Originally, seven members of the Blood Clan resided in this ancient castle.

Bolis, who cherished breathing fresh air and preferred quiet places, refused to relocate to Zero District. He chose to stay alone.

One winter night near the war’s end, heavy snow fell. Three Wolfkin brothers—gravely wounded and fleeing through the pine forest—accidentally encountered Bolis.

Fearing humans might discover them, Bolis spent a fortune forging documents so they could recover safely.

To repay his life-saving kindness, the three Wolfkin brothers—who’d once been enslaved by other Blood Clan members—took over all household chores. They cleaned every corner inside and out, making Bolis’s home life truly comfortable.

Until one day… only his head remained, sealed inside a jar.

“What a real wolf…”

Hearing Bolis’s story, Ouyang sighed with conflicted emotions. The fable of the farmer and the snake had played out before Bolis’s eyes.

“Since I’ve recalled my own foolish past… why not share why you came here?”

“I came to save—Mmph! Mmph!”

Ouyang, unwilling to revisit painful memories, swiftly clamped a hand over the little coal ball’s mouth. She yanked it down and explained tensely:

“No special reason. We’re here to save you.”

“I see…”

The young Bloodkin abruptly ended the topic. Bolis narrowed his crimson eyes slightly, noticing the boy’s odd, unhappy glare fixed on the Bloodkin Prince—a gaze laced with faint anger.

Wanting to give them privacy, Bolis excused himself to another room for fresh air.

Left alone, Ouyang’s resentment simmered. She couldn’t swallow this. She had to confront the Bloodkin Prince directly—demand why he’d treated her like a one-night stand.

But she immediately rejected the thought.

*No. I can’t say that outright to his face.*

Even if she asked, she could already imagine his calm, righteous reply: *“It was pure enjoyment. I spared you future pain…”*

Ouyang shook her head. Her heart twisted like a writhing worm, tangled with unease.

*It’s just a name. What’s the big deal?*

Her expression stayed eerily calm—almost predatory—as she stood silently behind the Bloodkin Prince. Inside, she trembled.

Gathering courage, she parted her lips slightly and said coldly:

“Hey… you still haven’t told me your name. I can’t just call you ‘Prince Regent’ like the others, can I?”

“No need. Just call me ‘husband’.”

“Not a chance.”

Seeing Ouyang’s stubborn face, neither the Bloodkin Prince nor the bartender bothered explaining Blood Clan customs.

“A Bloodkin’s true name holds power,” the Prince said calmly, sensing her frustration. “Revealing it now is dangerous. If the Holy Order Knights ever captured you and forced it from you… they’d seal us away in eternal darkness. Forever.”

Having never witnessed the Holy Order’s massacres, Ouyang couldn’t grasp his warning. Seeing her sullen expression, he added gravely:

“Only when you’re ready to give me your entire future… will I share my true name.”

The little coal ball’s serious face resembled a marriage proposal.

*If he were a woman,* Ouyang thought, *she’d have said yes by now.*

“My future…”

“Bloodkin live forever. We’d stay together eternally… and raise a football team’s worth of children.”

Hearing his eager vision of their future, Ouyang’s slender legs surreptitiously stepped back several paces.

Bloodkin did live longer—but his fantasy clearly revolved around exhausting her completely in bed. Not just in this life, but half of the next one too.

“I’ll… think about it.”

*Too weak now. Even assassination attempts would fail.*

To kill him, she’d need equal strength. After repeated lessons, she knew she lacked the power to negotiate as his equal.

But love? That trick would never work on her.

“One day, you’ll understand who truly loves you.”

The Bloodkin Prince fluttered his wings and settled back atop Ouyang’s head. “Let me rest a while longer. Wake me when the other two arrive.”

“Wait! Don’t sleep yet!”

Determined to retaliate for last night’s exhaustion, Ouyang yanked the coal ball down again. “When the Wolfkin show up, I refuse to be your cheer squad. Teach me some of your tricks instead.”

With a powerful Bloodkin Prince as her shield—and a chance to learn Bloodkin skills—Ouyang planned to steal every defensive technique she could. She poked the drowsy Prince repeatedly until his eyes finally opened.

Bleary-eyed, he groaned: “We Bloodkin fight with elegance and grace. No true Bloodkin wields a silver sword through brute force. We command objects effortlessly with our blood-gifted power.”

He recalled recent encounters. “Our abilities vary: some control minds, others manipulate blood to shape weapons… Mastering all is impossible. And never drink Mosterian blood to strengthen yourself.” He yawned wearily. “The more power you take, the harder it is to control. You might go berserk.”

Ouyang shuddered. His warning felt like firsthand horror.

“Strong willpower means stronger Bloodkin.”

Studying Ouyang’s tear-prone fragility, the Prince’s crimson eyes narrowed. A dark smile curled his lips.

“With your delicate spirit… you’ll just have to endure it.”