Like a being above all yet beneath none, an existence whose commands could never be defied.

Ouyang felt her blood rushing backward through her veins, utterly drawn to the overwhelming presence behind her.

Even if she handed over the Dragon Seal, she could still appear anywhere in the Northern District.

Ouyang was certain—this aura was unmistakable. It belonged to *him*, the one who’d turned her into this. The Bloodkin Prince!

"Severing a Blood Clan member’s head won’t kill them. He’ll wake up in a few hours."

The familiar voice drifted from behind her, matching the tone and accent from their phone calls.

Following the sound, Ouyang tensed as she spotted a fluffy black orb perched on the dark stairs. It smoothed its short fur, revealing round, gleaming crimson eyes. One tiny bat-wing lifted in a friendly wave.

"Good evening, my lovely wife. Startled to see me like this?"

"I’m not your wife!"

Ouyang glared at the furry orb, muscles coiled tight. She only needed one answer. "Are you the Bloodkin Prince?"

"Precisely. I’m the one you’ve been speaking to daily."

The thought of chatting with a bat every day made Ouyang’s stomach churn. "Why are you here?"

"Blood Clan law forbids kin from killing kin. You broke our rules. Punishment is due."

The moment their eyes met, Ouyang’s feet locked in place as if bound by invisible force. The little orb spread its stubby wings and floated toward her.

"Come back with me to face judgment."

"N-no! I won’t go! You promised not to take me back!"

"This is separate from that promise. After your punishment, I’ll return you. Don’t worry—it’ll be quick. Just a little pain."

The bat’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, delighted by Ouyang’s trembling, pitiful form. Her boyish aura had faded; womanhood bloomed in her fear.

Even from afar, her scent intoxicated him—a divine fruit’s fragrance that had lured the Mosterian bartender off course.

If left unmasked, this criminal allure would draw other Mosterians.

Before the fruit ripened, the gardener must harvest it himself.

"What are you doing?!"

Unable to resist the Bloodkin Prince’s command, Ouyang watched in horror as the bat flew to her face. They vanished instantly.

*This time,* she realized with icy dread, *there’s no escape.*

Ouyang reappeared in a mysterious room. Dark mahogany wardrobes and desks lined walls draped in rose-red wallpaper patterned with roses. A blood-red carpet muffled her footsteps.

Desperate to flee, she didn’t sense the presence behind her. The bat transformed instantly, covering her eyes with one hand while pinning her down onto a plush bed.

"I did it—I’ll face it! Don’t blindfold me! Let me see the devil who did this, so I can kill you next time!"

Helpless under the Bloodkin Prince’s touch, Ouyang felt her clothes stripped away. He lingered, admiring the body he’d remade.

"*Next time?*" His voice floated warmly from the bedside drawer, where glass clinked softly. Liquid sloshed in a bottle. "I’ll make sure your body remembers: there won’t be one."

"What icy thing are you putting on me? Take it off!"

"Just wait. You’ll see."

[800 words omitted]

The Bloodkin Prince’s tender yet wicked words seeped into Ouyang’s bones, chilling her deeper than any fear she’d ever known.

She recalled the faces of subordinates she’d punished in confinement rooms—their terror, their pleas.

*Karma truly turns the wheel.*

No land knows true freedom; rules shape every world.

She’d sought revenge. To mend her wounds. To sever this chain with her own hands.

It was self-preservation. She’d done nothing wrong.

So she’d never beg. No matter the punishment, she’d never whisper *sorry* or *I won’t do it again* to this monster.

Blood filled her mouth where she’d bitten her lip raw. She refused to cry out. But the blindfold grew damp. Warm tears traced paths down her icy cheeks.

Her body had been defiled by this cursed Bloodkin Prince...