The capital of the Holy Varnishel Empire, Yilisong City, stood as a cluster of white stone castles atop the plains' sole hill. This ancient city, nearly 400 years old, glowed as dawn's first light stretched from the jagged eastern mountains across the golden plains below.

Dong! Dong! Seven bell tolls praised the Seven True Gods. Inside and outside Yilisong's walls, nobles and commoners alike rose with the chimes to begin their day.

Merchants opened stalls, farmers plowed fields, shepherds tended flocks—all toiled diligently. Apprentices, blacksmiths or carpenters, rose early to tidy tools. Fetching wash water and a clean towel for their masters was a necessary courtesy.

Young nobles boarded carriages, munching breakfast while scheming how to face tutors. "I didn't finish yesterday's homework," one might think, "but no matter—I'll just act diligent. Teachers aren't completely heartless."

Adult nobles, however, had far more intriguing schedules.

As nobles, isolating yourself doomed your family to decline. True nobility meant embracing the circle: card games, outings, cockfights, dogfights, polo, theater, chasing trends—all vital, no matter the cost. Nobles couldn't focus solely on short-term gains.

Would poverty exile you from nobility? Then you'd never rise again. This mindset drove them to maintain appearances even on empty stomachs. "Better to die standing than live kneeling" was a noble-sounding phrase. The harsher truth? They'd stuff a watermelon in their mouths to save face.

Thus, established nobles upheld virtues like generosity. Spotting a newcomer from afar? Show concern; that's good breeding. Hence, adult nobles started their day at the tea house.

At a western district tea house, two familiar nobles bowed, sat together, and ordered favorite breakfasts and teas. Silently, they began exchanging valuable tidbits.

"My dear friend," one said, "have you heard? A new noble has arrived in the city!"

"Of course, my dear. Everyone's gossiping about it. Only a deaf man wouldn't know."

After the meal, they wiped mouths and sipped tea.

"I heard this new noble toured the capital in the duke's carriage."

"I know something more... lean closer, friend. I don't want to cause trouble..."

The noble whispered conspiratorially.

"I heard this new noble, Dracula Joe Shuya, possesses formidable power."

"Oh? How come I didn't know?"

"My nephew serves as an officer on Duke Kein's ship. He said it while drunk. Seems highly confidential... he only mentioned this noble is a fierce swordsman. Nothing else..."

"You're a true friend. I'll keep this secret. Rest assured..."

"Of course. I trust you... Well, it's late. I must go. See you another day..."

"Farewell~"

They waved goodbye.

About fifteen minutes later, that noble appeared in a dim alley. After a while, he emerged, glanced around to ensure no one watched, and hurriedly vanished.

In a shabby hut down the gloomy alley, a bandage-wrapped figure scribbled on paper. A red scroll cover bore label-like inscriptions:

————Dracula Joe Shuya

Count of Wallachia Kingdom... appeared at Purple Rose Harbor at XXX time... identity mysterious... age unknown... abilities unknown... rumored close ties to the Undead army, details unknown... personally skilled in swordsmanship... strength unknown...

Wallachia Kingdom... unheard of, likely fabricated... based on currency, possibly from XXX nation, pending verification... if true, value upgraded to SS-rank... specific worth: necromancy, passage through the Sea of Despair, foreign swordsmanship, foreign intelligence...

"What a fascinating fellow... If he came from beyond the Sea of Despair, I wonder how he crossed that treacherous stretch—teeming with sea king fish, reefs, whirlpools... plus merfolk, sea monsters, the Dark Elf Archipelago... I truly want to know... I crave... a complete world map..."

The figure rose, walked to a wall draped in cloth, and pulled it aside. A massive map covered the wall. The continent housing the Holy Varnishel Empire, Fire Eagle Duchy, and White Oak Kingdom occupied less than 7% of it. In the far eastern seas, "Origin Continent" was labeled. Detailed notes marked island chains, sea climates, currents... Yet the map was only 21% complete, vast blanks remaining.

"How I long... to see the world's full outline..."

The bandaged figure leaned over the map, gently caressing it.

————

The backyard of Duke Kein's mansion was a vineyard. Lady Nashir Franlen Heiltsimlem, the duke's mother, dressed in simple clothes, diligently weeded and fertilized grapevines. She occasionally straightened to rub her back and shoulders. Duke Kein appeared at the garden gate, walked softly to her side, and gently took the shears to help.

"Keane... my child, you're up early," she said, spotting him with kind eyes.

"Mother... the servants could handle this. You needn't do it yourself..."

"Ah, since you rarely have friends visit, I want them to taste grapes I grew myself... Keane, I haven't seen you this happy in ages. Your smiles these days outnumber the past... Is it because of those young friends?"

Duke Kein nodded.

"Yes, they're... very good friends. Worth cherishing."

Lady Nashir placed cut grapes in a basket and covered it.

"Then cherish them well... As a mother, I wish for your happiness. But in the capital, you can't hide at home forever. As a noble, you should socialize more... You're of age now. If there's a lady you fancy, tell me. I'll speak to Her Majesty the Empress... As a duke, your marriage requires imperial approval. I won't let you sacrifice for the family... That's the least I can do as your mother."

"I understand, Mother. Let me take that..."

Duke Kein took the basket.

"Hmm... your friends are foreigners, perhaps unused to early hours. Shall we prepare breakfast first?"

"They're already up... And breakfast is being prepared by Count Dracula's servants. Mother, you must try the cooking of a man named Faglas."

"The chef you praised so highly? Then let's hurry. Your words have me eager to taste foreign cuisine..."

————

The gates of the duke's mansion in the capital were unusually quiet.

Everyone knew a new noble had arrived—Count Dracula, the duke's friend. The count had a fiery temper... anyone daring to harass him or Duke Kein would get whipped or stomped underfoot. He showed no mercy to men or women. Those whipped claimed his technique was masterful: painful enough to send them fleeing, yet leaving no injury. Thus, certain nobles with peculiar tastes flocked daily to receive a few lashes, then lay contentedly groaning on the ground.

"I thought this 'Whip of Endless Agony' would keep them in line. How did it come to this..."

Count Dracula sighed at their thick-skinned persistence and incomprehensible degradation.

Today, under Keane's guidance, they'd tour the northern district of the capital. It housed many academies, including the Imperial Magic Academy and Research Institute. Count Dracula seemed highly interested, and Mary was equally curious. First-time visitors to the capital naturally marveled at everything.

The Imperial Magic Academy was less an academy and more a seven-story tower. Its open rooftop terrace held a massive star-observing instrument resembling a cannon. Legend said it was crafted by the gods.

"Can we go inside?" Count Dracula asked eagerly.

"Of course, but we can only visit the first and second floors. This is the empire's core zone. Even I can't access higher levels without a permit."

"I see... Well, the lower floors will do."

Keane shrugged helplessly and led the group inside, colliding head-on with a party exiting.

An ancient-looking elder led a group in robes. The elder was hunched, with absurdly long eyebrows and beard, eyes seemingly closed yet sharp and clear. Deep wrinkles crisscrossed his face, making him look on death's door. He wore a splendid white robe and leaned on a white staff. Its tip held a decorative crystal encasing a fiercely burning flame.

"Lord Ludingelnan!"

"Good day... I never expected to meet you here."

Keane immediately stepped forward with a bow.

"Hmm... Your Grace," the man replied, nodding at Duke Kein before his gaze swept past him to the group behind.

*This is Lord Rudingernan, who’s lived over 170 years...*

Curious, Pipe Captain activated his racial skill—Life Perception. An invisible ripple spread from his feet. Every living thing around him transformed into flame-like silhouettes mirroring their true forms... *What!? This old man! How is this possible!? He’s... empty!*

Within Life Perception’s range, all lifeforms revealed their true essence and energy signatures. Keane glowed with faint holy-like energy; Faglas resembled a swirling blood mist (a sign of bloodlust); Greenland’s vital points shimmered with indigo witchcraft energy, densest around his brain; Mary held weak holy energy, even fainter than Keane’s. The five men behind the elder each radiated different energies—only one matched Keane’s strength; the rest were feeble, flickering with fire, wind, water, or sand-like auras.

But Rudingernan himself? A void where life should be. Only one explanation remained: this wasn’t the real man. An illusion. Or some powerful concealment magic.

After parting ways with Rudingernan’s group, Count Dracula toured the tower’s first two floors under Keane’s guidance. The ground floor housed a factory crafting magical machinery. The second floor held lecture halls teaching arcane theory and a library stacked with ancient tomes. Though the tower seemed modest from outside, Keane explained it used spatial-warping magic to stretch its interior beyond physical limits—a technique too costly in rare materials for widespread use. Only this imperial capital site employed it.

Bored by the rest of the tour, Dracula’s party returned to the ducal manor.

---

That night, Dracula slipped from his room and knocked on Greenland’s door. The witch, who needed no sleep, answered instantly.

"Follow me."

"Yes, my lord."

They retreated to a shadowed garden corner. At Dracula’s nod, Greenland plucked several eyeball-sized metal orbs from her hair and tossed them into the darkness.

"All clear. No observers. What task does my master require?"

"I plan to infiltrate the magic tower tonight. Join me. Any obstacles?"

"None. I’ve already seeded surveillance puppets and spy-eyes there. Every move below the fourth floor is monitored. Though... strong energy fluctuations above Floor 4 risk detection. Ah—Master, Miss Mary approaches. 120 steps away... turning the corner behind you. She seems... affectionate toward you."

"I know. But she loves not *me*—she loves *Dracula*. I am Pipe, sovereign of the Reaper’s Scythe Pirate Crew, Lord of the Undead. Still... her midnight visit could ruin our plan. So... this is necessary. Forgive me, Greenland."

"M-Master...! ...Mmph! ...Ahnn..."

Earlier, after dinner, Mary had chatted with Duchess Franlen—Keane’s gentle, perceptive mother. Noticing Mary’s longing glances at Dracula, the duchess had urged: *"If you cherish someone, speak your heart. Love demands action. Silent admiration yields nothing."*

Resolved, Mary sought Dracula’s room—only to learn from a maid he’d gone to the garden with his bodyguard, Greenland. Hurrying to confess, she rounded the corner just in time to witness her heart shatter.

There stood her perfect Dracula... locked in a passionate embrace with Greenland, kissing her fiercely while the usually icy witch whimpered and moaned like a wanton slave from cheap romance novels.

*"You must have endured such torment, Master... Please, defile me as you wish..."*

*"Hmph... Kneel. Lick my boots, you filthy whore."*

*"Yes! Punish me... Bind me... Whip me... Defile me... I am your lowest slave. Punish me, I beg you—"*

The noble image of Count Dracula crumbled in Mary’s mind, replaced by visions of a demon ravaging innocent women.

*"So... this is the true Count Dracula? I was blind... Waaah!"*

Heartbroken, she fled.

Seconds after her footsteps faded, Greenland straightened up. Dracula’s demeanor snapped back to icy calm.

"My deepest apologies, Greenland. Forcing you into such a role..."

"No need to apologize, Master. Truthfully... I’ve always hoped you’d treat me this way. If you ever truly desire it, I’d welcome your command. Use me as you will."

"Tch... Ahem. *Now* is hardly the time for that. Alert Faglas to guard my chamber. We move at midnight."

"Yes, sir!"

*What idiotic idea was that?! So embarrassing!* Dracula’s face burned. *Damn those pornos I watched! Focus—you must uncover Rudingernan’s secrets tonight!*