Purple Rose Harbor glowed under the setting sun, its white stone buildings bathed in orange light. As dusk fell, commoners hurried home for hearty dinners.

Sasha walked toward Count Dracula’s manor instead of taking a carriage. Dressed in noblewomen’s finery, she carried a small handbag in one hand and a parasol in the other. A veiled bonnet obscured her delicate features—but her flawless figure drew lingering stares anyway. The hidden face only deepened her allure, sparking curiosity in every passerby.

Just past this tavern-lined street stood the manor gates. Yet a crowd had gathered before one tavern entrance, murmuring excitedly.

*Avoid trouble. Return quickly.*

She still had no intel on this Count. Her mission had been to infiltrate imperial officials—even the prince himself—to uncover state secrets. Instead, she’d become a foreign noble’s kept woman. Scolded. Ordered to lie low. None of it mattered... as long as Sasha’s future remained untouched. *Little sister, let my sacrifice pave your path to happiness.*

Sasha turned to leave—but froze. Through the crowd’s gaps, she saw a girl. Eight or nine years old, curled on the ground, shielding her head. Three drunkards kicked her mercilessly.

“Please stop! I didn’t—I didn’t steal your money!”

The child sobbed, arms wrapped tightly over her skull. Too small. Too fragile. A kick to her ribs made her cough blood—internal injuries already showing.

“Liar! Pay back what you stole! Or I’ll beat you to death!”

A scruffy man in a green shirt and vest spat curses, boot slamming down again.

“Help me... God... please save me...”

Her voice faded, consciousness slipping. *Would any god hear her?* Sasha’s own faith had died years ago—watching so-called holy men wallow in filth while gods stayed silent. To them, commoners were just ants. Prayers changed nothing.

“Stop!”

The shout startled the thugs into stillness. A woman in noble dress had shoved through the crowd, cradling the girl. Her bonnet had flown off in the rush, revealing a face so pure it seemed saintly.

“Gorgeous... Whose lady is she?”

“Never seen her. Nobility, surely...”

“Like a goddess...”

The onlookers murmured admiration but stayed rooted, judging her like spectators at a show.

“Hmph. Mindin’ others’ business?” The thug licked his lips. “Pretty thing. Pay her debt? Thirty gold coins stolen. Imperial law says child thieves pay triple—or face the whip. She’d die after three lashes.” He leered. “But... keep *me* company? Maybe I’ll forget the debt.”

“Yeah... she’ll die anyway,” his friends chimed in, grinning.

No one moved to help. *Why risk trouble?* Commoners survived by minding their own. Heroes were just storybook fools.

Sasha ignored them, checking the girl’s injuries. Broken ribs. Internal bleeding. She’d die without a healer—and she was slipping into shock. *How could they do this to a child?*

“Hey! Decide!” The thug jabbed a finger. “Pay? Come with us? Or confess you’re broke? Nobles can’t break Her Majesty’s laws. Harboring thieves carries heavy penalties, *milady*.”

“...How much?”

“Ninety gold. After taxes, I’d get seventy-five. I’m generous—seventy’ll do.”

*Seventy gold?* Two coins fed a family for a year. This thug reeked of lies. Where was the stolen money?

“Hmph. I’ll give you three hundred.”

“Three hundred?!”

“Catch.”

Sasha flung a handful of white powder.

“Eyes! MY EYES!”

“Bitch! I can’t see!”

“Grab her—AGH!”

The crowd parted instinctively as Sasha sprinted away, the girl clutched tight against her chest.

*Huff... huff... huff...*

She burst into Count Dracula’s manor. Stone-faced servants opened doors wordlessly. Ignoring their wooden stares, she raced to her room—unaware the Count’s door stood slightly ajar.

“Boil water. Now.”

A servant bowed and vanished.

*These people... like ghosts.* What kind of master bred such silent obedience?

Sasha tore through her cabinets, finding a medical kit. Scissors. Gauze. Styptic powder. Painkillers. She cut away the girl’s torn clothes, cleaned mud from wounds with warm cloths, then applied medicine and bandages.

*No!* She pressed a hand to the girl’s forehead. Feverish. Blood seeped from her nose—internal damage. Sasha only knew basic first aid. No Healing Scroll. The clinic was too far... *Why didn’t I run straight there? I’ve killed her!*

“What do I do...?”

A shadow fell across the floor. A tall nobleman in casual wear stood behind her—golden hair, icy eyes. Count Dracula.

“M-My lord! She’s...”

“Gravely injured.”

“I found her on the street. I’m sorry—”

Since arriving at the harbor, she’d barely spoken to him. He treated her like a decorative pet—no demands, no cruelty. She knew nothing of his likes, his past, his purpose. *He’ll throw her out. She’ll die.* Her mission flashed in her mind: *Sacrifice myself for Sasha’s future. Nothing else matters.*

“She’ll die without treatment.”

The Count rose. *Here it comes.* Sasha’s throat tightened. Nobles always chose self-preservation. A dead child in his manor meant trouble. He’d discard her like trash.

Dracula pulled a scroll from his coat—purple cords binding its parchment. As he unrolled it, soft light bloomed. The scroll dissolved into glowing motes that settled over the girl. Bleeding ceased. Her breathing deepened. Scrapes sealed before their eyes.

“A... Healing Scroll?”

“I lack healing magic. The clinic might’ve been too late.” His voice stayed flat. “This is efficient.”

“Th-thank you, my lord!”

For the first time, Dracula Joe Shuya seemed... human. Saving a stranger. *This* was the virtue the holy texts praised.

“When she wakes, find her home. Send her back by carriage.”

“Yes, sir!”

He nodded and left. The girl stirred, blinking at Dracula’s retreating back, then at Sasha’s tear-streaked, smiling face.

“You... saved me, sister... Where am I...?”

“You’re safe now. Fully healed. But it wasn’t just me—the nobleman who left...”

“The big brother who just walked out?”

“Yes. Now, where’s your home?”

"Let me escort you back..."

"Ah~ It's already so late. If I don't head home now, I'll get scolded..."

————

Meanwhile, in the imperial capital... Duke Kein's residence.

Sitting on a garden chair, Duke Kein sketched on a drawing board.

Mary watched closely beside him. His beautiful face would lift now and then, squinting at distant flowers. His fair hand moved the brush with delicate precision. Sometimes, he'd frown adorably, pondering tweaks to the painting. Other times, his expression turned intensely focused when inspiration struck. Truth be told, compared to his artwork... Duke Kein himself resembled a living masterpiece.

"It's truly beautiful..."

"Hm? Mary, do you also think these flowers are lovely?"

"Ah?... Oh!! Yes! Yes! They are! The flowers are beautiful... truly beautiful!"

Blushing, Mary cursed herself inwardly for being such a lovesick fool—blurting out her thoughts by accident. Still, after half a month at the duke's residence, daily closeness revealed his perfection. Gentle, considerate, and beautiful, Duke Kein had slowly mended her shattered spirits. Her dreams had crumbled from disappointment in Count Dracula... She felt conflicted. Was she just fickle? But the count was that kind of man—a despicable pervert! Doing such things with his subordinate, when I could have... No! I'd never stoop that low! I refuse!... Yet bitterness lingered. She'd already given her heart... only to face such cruel reality.

Now, she needed a new adventure—a fresh pursuit of beautiful love, with someone like Duke Kein.

"Done~! Finished~ Ah... so tired..."

Duke Kein shook his arm, rubbing his sore shoulder. The painting of flowers rested on the easel. Delicate strokes captured their sunset charm, tinged with a hint of melancholy. His masterful skill rendered every petal... evoking a soulful depth that made it a true masterpiece.

"Really amazing..."

Watching from afar, Madame Fralen smiled faintly.

"Keane... Mary... tired? Come eat some fruit. Overseas merchants brought exotic kinds recently. I've already sliced them for you..."

"Mother, thank you for your trouble..."

"Madame Fralen, I'm so sorry... haha..."

"No need. Keane is my son... Mary, my niece. Doting on you is only natural. Mary, you're not so young—anyone caught your eye? Imperial capital suitors are excellent. I can put in a good word~"

"Pfft... cough... cough cough..."

Choking on fruit from her aunt's words, Mary gasped as everyone scrambled to help. Madame Fralen rushed over, patting her back.

"Alright, Mary? Take it slow..."

"Cough... no... I'm fine now..."

Catching her breath, Mary patted her chest lightly—but her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Glad you're fine. I'd fetch a doctor if needed."

Duke Kein stared worriedly, his caring gaze making Mary blush deeper... Madame Fralen saw it all. She pulled Keane aside to the nearby pavilion.

When they returned after their talk, Duke Kein's face was flushed too. Yet he seemed troubled by something unspoken...