Now alone together, Kanata knew exactly what to do. With practiced ease, she unbuttoned her coat, then her shirt.

She tugged the collar down, exposing one shoulder. Her battered body bore fresh bruises; bloodstained bandages clung to open wounds.

The bite marks on her neck remained—the skin around the two tiny punctures inflamed, unnaturally red, with a faint row of smaller teeth marks beside them.

“Today… please… bite somewhere without wounds… or I won’t sleep all night from the pain.”

Eyes closed, Kanata braced for the coming sting.

Sovereign Alessia was a vampire. Years ago, after a virus-infected vampire bat attacked her, traces of the pathogen lingered despite prompt serum treatment, slowly twisting her into a bloodthirsty being.

Very few knew. If Falling Cherry City’s citizens learned their Sovereign was infected, unrest would surely erupt.

Chaos-mongers would seize the chance to spread rumors—oust the young Sovereign, install their puppet.

Such turmoil had flared repeatedly when Alessia first claimed the throne. She’d spent years suppressing it, gradually winning over the masses.

Kanata had signed a confidentiality pact. Leak the secret out of spite? She and her sister would vanish.

They sealed the contract with blood. Since Kanata avoided unnecessary contact, Alessia found this arrangement… somewhat reassuring.

Each night around nine, after finishing work, watching her sister take medicine and sleep, briefing the servants, Kanata boarded the last train here.

Exhausted. A fish on the chopping block. Utterly at mercy.

“Your tone holds not a trace of pleading. Hardly the way to make a request.”

Alessia’s fingertips traced Kanata’s skin—smooth, delicate, effortlessly flawless. A natural gift others chased with costly creams.

“Thus… your request is denied.”

She chose a swollen, purplish bruise and bit down without mercy. Sharp fangs pierced tender, wounded flesh. A strange thrill flickered within her.

Sweet, iron-tinged blood welled—richer than aged honey.

A shudder ran through Kanata’s frame.

“Ah…”

That soft whimper, that flinch—perfect. Alessia craved more. She pressed deeper.

“S-sorry… Lady Alessia… but… you’re especially mischievous tonight…”

Weakness from blood loss warred with exhaustion-induced dizziness. Drowsiness crept in.

Pain locked her right shoulder still—any movement might invite harsher punishment.

The Sovereign favored an obedient “blood bank.” Kanata hadn’t always been compliant. Stern lessons had taught her well.

Heat bloomed at the bite—aching, tingling. Warmth spread through her limbs; flushed skin mimicked fever.

Arms limp, she barely clutched her skirt hem. Shoulders trembled.

“You look utterly pitiable like this. Even those who once hurled insults might soften.”

Alessia tucked a stray strand behind Kanata’s ear, breath warm against her lobe.

“To be a woman in this world is to wield your body—a weapon for survival.”

The words grated. It was urging her to discard dignity, to play the fragile maiden for comfort.

Such paths weren’t rare. In Cherryfall Dominion’s red-light district, girls burdened by poverty learned to please—to sell body or talent, dignity be damned, just to keep families afloat.

“Do you even have dignity left? You placed it on the ground the moment you sold yourself to me.”

Alessia’s voice, cold as frost, whispered truth into her ear.

Kanata was used to her ice-cold heart—yet her chest tightened.

If dignity could buy her sister health, freedom from the wheelchair… she’d surrender it gladly.

A sting in her nose. Tears slipped free, salty drops landing on Alessia’s hand.

“My Kanata… even your tears are endearing…”

Alessia murmured dreamily, thumb brushing the tears away—gentleness she didn’t realize she showed.

Just as Kanata wondered at the shift—*pain*. Her shirt had slipped lower during her daze, cleavage exposed.

The mischievous Sovereign had sneak-attacked her chest.

“Hah~!”

Kanata gripped Alessia’s shoulders. That deliberate ambush shattered the fragile moment.

As “compensation” for extra blood taken, Alessia later tucked folded bills into Kanata’s cleavage.

“How thrilling… tormenting you, so battered and bruised, is utterly addictive. Tonight… I look forward to your guidance.”

The night stretched on.