Chapter 149: An All-Too-Desirable Spectator

The next reply took a little longer to arrive.

You do know I'm at university, Mom? I'm fine with you sleeping in my bed, but there's only one excuse I can give my vampire dad in that situation. You okay with that?

Blanche rolled her eyes.

Another unnecessary complication.

Then again, it was the least of her worries.

I don't mind. Unless you've already got someone who would mind.

Nope. Nothing going on. I'll be there at five.

Oh, and your father (the real one)—the one I'm apparently married to—isn't aware, and I don't plan on telling him.

She silently thanked the gods once again for her perfect memory.

Between Sebastian, her adoptive father here, and Kiyan—Aaron over there—her adoptive father in the Otherworld...

It would have been all too easy to lose track.

Ouch. He's not gonna like that. Got it.

One problem solved.

She glanced at her best friend, diligently copying the day's lesson.

Eva wasn't going to like it either.

The rest of the morning passed without incident—so much so that Blanche found herself bored.

School no longer held much meaning for her.

Ironically, Roberto's impromptu lecture had been far more interesting.

Learning the difference between silicon and basalt wasn't going to teach her how to become a queen.

Absentmindedly, she opened her stats window and examined her brand-new skill.

Blanche had chosen Curse.

For ten seconds, any living creature became nothing more than an ordinary human.

A spell burdened with countless restrictions.

Its level determined how much resistance the target possessed.

Its activation time varied.

There was the cooldown between uses.

And improving it required meeting extremely specific conditions.

First, ordinary creatures.

Then, at level four, intermediate ones.

At level seven, powerful enemies.

Not to mention level nine, reserved exclusively for dungeon bosses so she could strip legendary creatures of their supernatural nature.

Never had a spell been so complicated.

But it was worth the effort.

If she ever managed to reduce even a god to a mere human...

...even for a few minutes...

More surprising still, without her Drain ability, her attributes had stopped increasing altogether.

The game was becoming significantly more difficult.

Eva left her alone until lunchtime.

"She's acting weird today," Eva whispered to Roberto.

Blanche watched them from directly behind in the cafeteria line, each balancing a tray, completely unaware that she could now hear the faintest sound from the opposite end of the room.

A headache blossomed instantly.

Had she not desperately needed sugar and protein, she would already have fled to her secret self-defense lesson.

The cafeteria was pure torture for someone whose senses had only recently become so acute.

Her ears burned.

"Maybe she's finally going through her teenage rebellion," Roberto replied with a shrug.

"Haha. Very funny," Eva deadpanned.

"I can hear you," Blanche called from just behind them, tray in hand.

Instant silence.

She was almost pleased.

If her friends were making that much noise, the rest of their group had become strangely quiet, exchanging worried glances instead.

Blanche paid them no attention.

She headed straight for Erik.

Barely had she walked through the doorway before the five of them were already conspiring about her increasingly frequent absences and her mental state.

The selfish, carefree Blanche they had once known had changed.

For better...

And for worse.

She cared about them now—

But only when she was actually there.

Had she made other friends?

Where did she spend all her time?

What was she really doing?

Except Erik wasn't alone this time.

She raised an eyebrow.

"He invited himself in."

That was her private instructor's only response to her unspoken question.

Seated on a chair that had seemingly materialized out of thin air, Kiyan greeted her with a simple nod.

Settled behind an almost perfect replica of Erik's desk, he immediately turned his attention back to the computer—

The only genuine object in the room.

Everything else was the product of his materialization ability.

The contrast was as striking as ever.

The attic hadn't changed.

Ancient oak beams, blackened with age, stretched beneath the roof.

The wooden floor creaked softly beneath every step.

A handful of wooden crates, training dummies, and weapon racks occupied the corners, while the pale winter light filtered through dusty skylights.

The place retained its austere, almost oppressive atmosphere—

Exactly the kind of environment Erik loved using to push his students beyond their limits.

And yet...

Ever since Kiyan had started spending time there...

Something had changed.

Without him doing anything at all.

His mere presence softened the room.

The subtle scent of his woody cologne now mingled with the smells of aged timber and worn leather.

A steaming mug of coffee rested beside his keyboard.

Several neatly stacked pages filled with elegant handwriting lay nearby.

The glow of the monitor occasionally cast bluish reflections across his focused face.

The attic no longer resembled nothing more than a chamber of educational torture.

It felt...

Alive.

Lived in.

Even warm.

As though Kiyan carried a touch of love with him wherever he chose to settle.

Blanche returned his greeting with a discreet smile as she approached.

He answered with the faintest inclination of his head—

Almost imperceptible—

Before her favorite sociopath pounced without giving her the slightest opportunity to enjoy the moment.

"You can daydream later."

Erik attacked immediately.

No further words.

No warm-up speech.

The first strike came so quickly that only her reflexes allowed her to evade it.

The opening minutes resembled more of a warm-up than an actual fight.

Simple combinations.

Footwork.

Recovering her guard.

Enough to wake up her muscles without breaking them just yet.

Then Erik decided that was enough.

His expression changed.

So did his smile.

And without warning...

He shifted into another gear.

His attacks became faster.

More brutal.

More precise.

Every feint concealed another.

Every opening was nothing more than bait designed to lure her into making a mistake.

Usually, Blanche loved this part.

Today...

Today she couldn't stay focused.

Because Kiyan was there.

He said nothing.

Never interfered.

Most of the time, he genuinely worked at his computer, typing a few lines, reviewing files, making notes in the margins of documents.

But every so often...

He looked up.

Just for a few seconds.

Long enough to observe a movement.

A parry.

A mistake.

Then he returned to his work.

Those fleeting glances, however were enough to throw Blanche's entire concentration into disarray.