"Lord Akat..."

In the dim corridor, only faint lamplight burned quietly, casting a chilling silence.

The unknown oil paintings on the walls added a hint of eeriness.

Beneath the hazy darkness, the girl’s eyes gleamed with an indescribable light.

She slightly raised a finger before her lips, silencing the question about to escape the woman beside her. "Shh, I know what you want to ask, Maria."

What?

Nothing more than why she’d humored that boy’s antics.

Well… by human standards, he wasn’t exactly a boy, but to Yuri, it made no difference.

So why had she done it?

For fun? An impulsive whim? Maybe a little, but more than that…

"Listen, Maria, he… carries that man’s scent. He’s that person’s descendant!"

She’d never forget the one being who’d made this body feel fear.

The human who’d forced the Evil King—master of fear and despair—to taste that sweet flavor!

Faint as it was, Yuri still sensed it: the familiar scent rising from his blood.

"No, perhaps it’s not just about being a descendant."

Lost in thought, the girl paused; her expression vanished in the darkness.

When Yuri spoke of that person, Maria froze abruptly, her face twisting with shock.

Yuri ignored her. After a few seconds, she suddenly laughed.

The crisp sound filled the corridor, bringing no warmth—only a bone-chilling cold that seeped into the soul.

"Ah… a predetermined fate? Truly a terrifying man. Removing one shackle only means donning another. Is this the role you’ve given me? Interesting…"

Muttering almost neurotically, Yuri’s smile widened.

Finally, she touched her index fingers and thumbs together, forming a strange shape before her eyes.

Through it, only one eye was visible—yet it felt like countless eyes watched you!

"So then, let’s see. Is this new shackle you’ve found for me… up to standard?"

If not, she’d devour his flesh and soul whole.

Lowering her hands, Yuri’s face calmed; the ripples of old memories faded.

She glanced sideways at the closed door, then left with the silent Maria.

…

Zuo Yuan’s healing was inhuman.

No ordinary human could wake the same day after multiple fatal wounds, let alone walk around lively three days later.

Mostly, he stayed quietly in his room.

Unlike rumored vampires, Yuri hadn’t drunk his blood immediately. After their first meeting, they hadn’t even crossed paths again.

Maria usually brought food or checked his wounds.

Zuo Yuan often felt her tall figure watched him strangely—but unsure of Yuri’s intentions, he kept his doubts silent.

Amid this tension, on the fourth day as the sun set.

"Lord Akat wishes to see you."

Zuo Yuan opened his eyes from cultivation to find the expressionless maid standing beside him.

He raised an eyebrow slightly. So it begins?

Under Maria’s gaze, he calmly rose bare-chested, pulled on spare clothes she’d provided.

His old clothes were torn; these fit perfectly despite cheaper fabric.

Maria gave him a brief, indifferent look, then led the way to the living room.

He paused silently, then followed quickly.

On the wide armchair, the golden-haired girl waited.

Drowsy, she let out a tiny yawn.

Bathed in light, she resembled an elegant Persian cat—tempting to stroke, yet radiating untouchable dignity.

Seeing Zuo Yuan, Yuri lifted her head. "You’re late, boy."

"My apologies."

He sat calmly opposite her, offering no retort.

He was at a disadvantage; best to stay obedient until he understood her game.

"Good. You know your place. Then…"

Yuri snapped her fingers. A dagger whooshed past Zuo Yuan’s ear, slicing strands of hair before embedding deep in the table between them.

Maria placed a pristine white cup before him.

Zuo Yuan froze; the icy chill lingered at his ear.

He glanced at the dagger, then the cup, and gave a resigned smile.

Without hesitation, he yanked out the blade and slit his wrist.

Blood dripped steadily, pooling in the cup!

When it was half-full, a pale finger pressed his wound.

A dim crimson light flashed—the scar vanished, skin healing smooth.

"That’s enough," Yuri said as Maria lifted the cup.

The scent hit her before the cup neared: unforgettable, unmistakable.

That man’s scent.

Her pupils glowed blood-red and bewitching, radiating danger.

She didn’t drink immediately. Just stared, lost in memory.

After a long moment, she sipped gently.

An indescribable sweetness flooded her mouth—richer than ordinary blood by countless times, an aroma that could make vampires fall.

Just like before. Unchanged. Truly nostalgic.