"I don't even know what's wrong with me... I just can't shake this strange obsession with you..."

Alessia looked down at the girl beneath her—Kanata's hateful glare only sent an inexplicable thrill through her.

The doctor said this attachment stemmed from blood. Since the first human blood she ever drank came from Kanata's body, a peculiar dependency had taken root. But it only worked for the first person. By the second or third, that heart-pounding rush was gone.

Ever since tasting Kanata's blood over a decade ago, she'd been addicted to that feeling.

To possess her completely. To exist solely for herself. For Kanata's blood to flow only for her...

How exquisite. Utterly irresistible.

"Unless you die," Alessia murmured, "this possessiveness will never fade."

Once again, Kanata saw her own helpless reflection in those crimson eyes—along with the feverish, burning intensity within.

Alessia's fingers trailed slowly upward from Kanata's abs, skimming past the curve of her chest, finally resting just above her collarbone.

Her favorite spot. That delicate, alluring collarbone.

Previous bite marks still lingered; even the wounds from the night she expelled Kanata from the Imperial Guard were only just beginning to scab.

The scars were faintly unsightly—but they did nothing to dull her craving.

"If this... is a dream... then why... why can't I wake up?"

Kanata hated her nightmare-prone nature. If it had to be a nightmare, she'd rather dream of being torn apart by infected creatures than *her*—this cold, merciless woman.

"What dream?" Alessia shattered the fragile hope with a whisper. "This isn't a dream. You're truly beneath me right now... and you'll offer your body obediently."

If it were just a shameful dream, she could've woken up and pretended nothing happened.

But Alessia said it wasn't.

"I never noticed before... how alluring your body is." Her palm glided over Kanata's skin. "Look at this—smooth as fine silk, even without care..."

The bond between drinker and donor was mutually beneficial: radiant, flawless skin.

The only cost—a tiny one—was sharing the withdrawal.

"How could I let those filthy beings touch something so perfect?"

Alessia leaned toward Kanata's left collarbone—the one untouched spot.

A sharp scent of alcohol hit Kanata's nose. Alessia's cheeks flushed crimson, her excitement unnaturally heightened. Tipsy, not drunk—proof of decent tolerance.

"And how much better are *you*..." Kanata's voice trembled, "...than those... so-called... 'filthy beings'?"

To sit as Sovereign, Alessia's hands were stained with blood—*including her mentor's*. How dare she call others unclean?

A sharp sting pricked Kanata's nose. Traitorous tears spilled over; her tear ducts felt ready to break.

*What did I do wrong? Why does she keep hurting me?*

Her heart ached—a thousand blades couldn't capture this pain.

"Tell me... what must I do... for you... to let me go..."

Kanata's expression crumpled into quiet pleading.