"If you're awake, stop pretending to sleep. Keep faking it, and I'll make sure you never wake up again."

The Bloodkin Prince’s lips curled slightly. He’d long spotted Ouyang’s act and decided to play along. After all, letting her stay conscious would only mean screams and shouts—disturbing the neighbors with her racket.

Certain sounds, after all, were only enjoyable when heard within one’s own home.

He’d changed Ouyang into clean pajamas and a fresh menstrual pad, tucking her snugly under soft blankets. A heating pad—*nuan bao bao*—was pressed against her aching abdomen. Treating her like a treasure, he’d cared for her meticulously, the way one would tend to a beloved wife. Pride and quiet joy warmed his chest.

A thermos of red-sugar ginger tea, brewed by his own hand, sat on the nightstand. Truthfully, he’d come solely to bring her comfort.

But this wild little house cat—always scratching and spitting—would never appreciate his kindness. Force, then, was the only solution.

"Everything about you belongs to me. Seeing you now or later makes no difference."

*Get out… just get out… I never want to see you again in this lifetime!*

Trapped in silence, Ouyang screamed inwardly, wishing she could kill this deranged Bloodkin before her.

So tyrannical. So unreasonable. To be shackled to such a bloodsucker—truly, she must have angered the heavens eight lifetimes over.

"One more thing," he added smoothly. "I’ve already handled your first period. I suggest you move out soon. You wouldn’t want *her* coming home from school and asking why there are cotton strips in your bathroom, would you?"

It was as if he’d planted a surveillance camera inside her skull—or perhaps he was the worm in her gut. Every move she made, he knew.

Ouyang hadn’t even considered that problem. Yet even now, gratitude died unspoken on her tongue.

Their fragile peace existed only because her body refused to obey her.

If he dared loosen her restraints, Ouyang vowed to repay him tenfold—in ways far worse than death.

"I know you want to kill me."

She didn’t deny it. *Yes.*

"I won’t grant that wish. And one day, you’ll thank me for it."

*Thank you? Over my dead body!*

She’d sooner let a donkey kick her brain than utter thanks to this monster.

"I won’t disturb your rest. I’m leaving."

*Then untie me first!* Ouyang fumed silently, stiff as a corpse. *This paralysis is unbearable.*

"The bindings will fade once I’m gone. Oh—and I spotted an interesting document in your living room. Quite a fortunate find." His voice turned casual. "It concerns you. You might want to read it. No harm in that."

Rummaging through a stranger’s home was rude. Even Ouyang wouldn’t dare touch Brother Long’s files.

*How dare he—*

Her furious thought shattered as fingers brushed her forehead, sweeping aside her bangs. Warmth pressed softly against her skin.

*Even leaving, he steals a kiss? Unforgivable.*

The heating pad on her belly glowed warmer, easing the cramps. Exhaustion dragged Ouyang into a shallow sleep. When she woke, the curtains glowed amber—dusk had fallen.

She shuffled to the living room. The wall clock confirmed it: Brother Long should be on his way home with Little Qiu.

Just as the Bloodkin Prince mentioned, a thick black-covered book lay on the rectangular coffee table. A top-secret file—only twelve officers and Brother Long were cleared to read it.

Xiaomo’s internal documents used five colors to denote clearance levels. Ouyang stared at the black cover, solemn and severe.

His words echoed: *It concerns you.*

*Read it? Or not?*

Heart pounding, she reached for the book.

—

**Operation: Eradication of Mosterians in the Northern District**

The simpler the title, the deeper the chill in Ouyang’s bones.

She flipped open the file.

Page one alone froze her blood. It chronicled Ouyang Qingdan’s life in meticulous detail—from birth to present. Beyond basic family records, it listed every school she’d attended, every friend she’d had. Photographs documented each year like a grotesque growth chart.

One infant photo stood out: a red circle marked the birthmark on her right shoulder. *They’ve watched me since I was born.*

The plan named Ouyang Qingdan as lead operative to violently suppress Mosterians hiding in the Northern and Zero Districts.

Attached was a blueprint of Xiaomo Tower. A combat room had been selected. A lab for ability enhancement was noted—using captured Blood Clan data as reference. Electric shocks. Psychological stress. Pressure training. All to force Ouyang Qingdan’s latent powers to surface, pushing her strength to match that of the **[Chariot]**.

*[Chariot]*—merely one rank among the Blood Clan’s hierarchy.

…

The operation’s core goal: sever all external supply lines to the Zero District. Let the Mosterians there wither and die.

Claudia would coordinate the launch date.

…

Final objective: total eradication of Mosterians from the Northern District. Not one left alive.

—

Ouyang closed the book, sweat beading on her forehead. She placed it back exactly as she’d found it.

It felt like someone had rewritten her destiny. The truth coiled in her skull, venomous and suffocating.

She couldn’t believe the approving signature on the file—*Brother Long’s handwriting*.

Footsteps echoed from downstairs. Familiar laughter. They’d be inside any second.

Ouyang slapped her cheeks, forcing calm onto her face.

"Brother Ouyang! You’re back! I thought you’d gotten lost again!"

"No. Just… drank too much with friends."

"Hehe, no need to explain. My brother told me everything~"

Relief flooded Little Qiu’s voice as she grabbed Ouyang’s hand—then froze. "Brother Ouyang… are you sick? You’re ice-cold—"

Ouyang yanked her hand back, hiding it behind her. A bitter smile formed. "I’m fine. My body’s always been like this. I’m used to it."