Mirena’s entire body went limp.

Her strength vanished in an instant.

Worse still—

Not only was she powerless, but her senses remained painfully aware.

—*Isn’t this enough already?*

By now, under normal circumstances, the feeding should’ve ended long ago.

Yet Hestia kept drinking Mirena’s blood.

A wave of dizziness washed over her.

If this continued—

—wouldn’t she be drained into a dried husk!?

Just *thinking* of escape would kill her!?

She’d never imagined her death would come not from fleeing, but from merely *considering* it.

Was this fair? Stripping her of speech *and* thought?

What difference was there between her and a mindless doll?

Unable to endure it any longer, Mirena felt the sting on her inner thigh.

Her nose prickled. Tears spilled over.

Pathetic. An Elven Princess, reduced to this.

She’d never stepped beyond her gilded cage since birth.

Never even seen the world she’d created.

Why did other protagonists thrive while she couldn’t survive the first trial?

She knew she was a princess of a fallen kingdom.

A pet-princess, humiliated at will.

Obedience and sweet words earned Hestia’s favor.

But—

Did that mean she had to accept being devoured?

Was wanting freedom wrong?

She was an Elf. Belonging to no one.

How much longer must she endure this violation?

The injustice choked her. She sobbed openly.

Tears streamed down her face.

A voice inside urged: *Stop crying. You were once a strong boy. Face enemies bravely.*

Even as a girl now, she had to be strong—she’d lost her parents.

But her tears refused to obey.

“Don’t cry, Nana…”

The pain on her thigh faded.

Hestia stood beside her, gently stroking Mirena’s hair.

Seeing Hestia’s face only deepened Mirena’s despair.

“I don’t want to see you! Go away… Even *thinking* this is forbidden? You monster!”

Hestia’s expression tightened with helplessness.

She’d never comforted a girl her age.

That strange sense of déjà vu she’d felt from Mirena…

—*So it wasn’t what I hoped.*

She’d thought this Elf might be different.

But the difference wasn’t the one she craved.

Hestia sighed deeply.

Truth was, she’d entered the room to find Mirena perched at the window.

Reading her mind confirmed the escape plan.

Rage flared—*After all I’ve done for you?*

Before she knew it, Hestia was latched onto Mirena’s thigh, drinking.

Her blood was sweeter than any nectar.

Elven blood nourished and empowered.

And an Elven Princess’s? Exquisite.

“Listen well, Princess Mirena,” Hestia warned coldly, watching Mirena sob with eyes hidden behind trembling hands. “Don’t even dream of escaping. Without my permission, if you step one foot beyond this castle, I’ll show you hell’s true meaning. Your suffering now will seem like mercy.”

Mirena cried harder, tears flooding like a child’s.

Hestia exhaled softly. She pulled Mirena onto the bed, cradling her in warm arms.

Pressing her lips near Mirena’s pointed ear, she whispered:

“Be good. No thoughts of escape. Obey your master, and I’ll treat you kindly. Today… I went too far. You’re new to being my Blood Slave. Forcing you to adapt was cruel. I’m sorry.”

Mirena froze. *Did Hestia just… apologize?* Her 2.0-enhanced Elf ears must be malfunctioning.

“Stay by my side?” Hestia’s voice held no command—only a plea.

Mirena couldn’t refuse. She nodded silently.

—*This compromise must’ve cost her dearly.*

“Rest easy. I won’t drink from you for days. Not until your Withdrawal Reaction sets in.”

—*Almost drained her dry in my rage. Only her sobs snapped me out of it.*

“And sleep alone tonight. I have business elsewhere.”

Hestia rose, walking toward the door.

“W-wait… where are you going?” Mirena stammered, too ashamed to say “Master” after crying like a child.

“Just a tedious meeting. Sleep well.”

The door clicked shut.

Mirena stared at the ceiling.

*Even my thoughts aren’t safe from her.*

*To her, I’m just a doll. Existing only for her whims.*

*How exhausting—*

But the resolve hardened within her.

Staying meant death.

She’d survived tonight—but next time?

She rolled over, gazing at the starless night beyond the window.

Outside, Hestia strode down the corridor.

“Luce,” she ordered a maid. “Don’t follow me. Watch Mirena. Twenty-four hours. No blind spots. We’ll take shifts. If she flees, hunt her down at all costs.”

“Yes, my lady.” Luce bowed stiffly, then vanished into the rafters—her Familiars already spreading like shadows.

Hestia descended to the basement.

Its coffin-like shape had once unsettled her. Now, it felt like home.

She gripped the door handle.

A swarm of bats burst past her head.

Vampire Princes flinched, hairs standing on end as her crimson eyes swept over them.

She took the highest seat—the throne reserved for the Sovereign.

Fragile in appearance, yet radiating absolute authority.

“L-let the meeting… begin…”

The minister beside her couldn’t meet her glowing gaze. Its light pressed down like a physical weight.