Chapter 23

I opened my laptop and scrolled through over fifty emails that had piled up over the past two days. I had turned down new assignments before, taking some time off to recuperate. Ironically, that time was now being spent on my mental recovery. Despite announcing that I would be unavailable for the week, my clients hadn’t stopped flooding me with requests. For once, I regretted being so good at my job. I wished they would just leave me alone for a while.

Half an hour passed as I responded to emails—well, more like copying and pasting the same message, explaining that I couldn’t fulfill their requests due to private matters. In moments like these, I found myself longing for a steady job with one company, instead of juggling demanding clients. But there was nothing I could do about it.

The job offers that came my way were meaningless. None of those companies could offer me any real protection, nor could they stand up to my powerful father.

A sudden thought struck me—just how much power did Hadrian hold? What did it mean to be the Lord Protector in the vampire world? Was he akin to royalty in the human world, a figure of immense influence? There was so much I didn’t understand. I barely even grasped the politics between werewolf packs. I knew my father ruled over the southern states, and entire towns belonged to wolves. I grew up in one of them—Crimsonville—where, despite the human majority, only werewolves appointed by my father ran everything. Could Hadrian’s position in Monteforte City be like my father’s rule in Crimsonville? If he was truly powerful, maybe I could leverage that power to protect myself.

Just as I finished responding to the last email, a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. It was Freya, come to give me the promised tour of the castle. I sighed, deciding to use this opportunity to ask her about Hadrian, his position, and the vampire world.

We walked down a long castle corridor, the marble floors gleaming beneath golden accents, with centuries-old paintings adorning the walls. I kept my gaze fixed on Freya, watching her closely. Her cheeks had a slight flush to them, and her skin, though pale, didn’t have the same coldness as Hadrian’s or Mr. Larkspur’s.

“I’m not a vampire if that’s what you’re thinking,” Freya said, noticing my intense stare.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to... That was rude,” I stammered, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“My father was a vampire, so I’m technically a half-vampire. But I’m still human... kind of. I do sometimes crave human blood, but I don’t need it to survive...” she explained, awkwardly yet with a hint of endearing honesty.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, though my mind was racing with the implications of her words.

“Wait... you’re saying you’re the child of a vampire?” I asked, grasping her hand, still processing everything.

Freya shrugged, her expression nonchalant. “My human mother was raped by a noble vampire, and she got pregnant. It’s an old story.”

I was stunned. My mouth hung open as I processed what she said. She laughed at my reaction, clearly finding my shock amusing.

“Can vampires really have children?” I blurted out, still struggling to grasp the reality of the situation.

Freya’s laughter grew louder as she led me outside to the beautiful patio, where she motioned for us to sit on a nearby bench.

“How much do you actually know about vampires?” she asked with a teasing smirk.

I hesitated, then answered, “I know they’re strong, drink blood, and avoid sunlight. Basically, they’re like living-dead creatures.”

Freya sighed dramatically. “Oh my… you really don’t know much, do you?” she said, genuinely pitying my ignorance.

“I only learned about vampires yesterday. So, yeah... not much to go on,” I admitted, embarrassed.

She smiled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, let me enlighten you. There are three types of vampires: nobles, commoners, and degenerates. Nobles are born vampires, and they grow up much like humans. But when they reach adulthood, they age slowly. They can’t live forever, but they can live for centuries. They can have children, but pregnancies are rare among them. Right now, there are only five noble families left in the world. The Lord Protector of Kessler is the head of one of them. His power is second only to that of the vampire king, Alaric Thorne. Most likely, when the current king dies, the Lord Protector will become the new king.”

I was captivated by her words, absorbing every detail. “That explains a lot…” I murmured, then asked, “What about the other types?”

“Commoners are vampires who were once human. Only nobles can turn humans into vampires, through a blood exchange ritual. The noble drinks from the human until they’re nearly dead, then feeds them their own blood. Commoners don’t age, can’t have children, and are more vulnerable to the sun than nobles. They live most of their immortal lives in darkness,” Freya continued, her voice filled with authority.

“And the degenerates?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Degenerates are what happens when commoners try to turn humans into vampires. It’s a failed process that leads to insanity. These vampires are driven by an uncontrollable thirst for blood, and they turn into wild, vicious beasts. Most of them don’t survive for long, and the ones who do manage to hold on to their minds are few and far between,” she explained, her tone grave.

I was absorbing everything she told me, but there was one last thing I had to ask. “Are vampires really... dead?”

“They’re alive,” she cut me off, shaking her head. “That’s a common mistake. Their hearts beat, just very slowly. They’re not dead. That’s why they stay young for so long.”

“What about the other myths? Garlic? Holy crosses?” I asked, my mind racing with the questions I’d seen in movies.

Freya burst out laughing, but then her expression became serious. “There’s one truth in the myths. Vampires are allergic to silver. They don’t die from touching it, but it can poison them. That’s the method assassins use to kill vampires.”

I leaned forward, intrigued. “Poison? How?”

“Powdered silver is often mixed into blood or food. It has no scent, so it’s hard to detect. The worst method is injecting liquid silver into a vampire’s veins. It’s a death sentence. That’s how my father died,” Freya said, her voice indifferent, though I sensed a bitterness behind it.

I couldn’t help but wonder about her relationship with her father. It didn’t sound like she had mourned his death.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Freya said, catching my gaze. “You didn’t have an easy life either.”

I smiled bitterly. “You’re right. My so-called father thinks of me as just another item to sell. I know exactly what it means to hate your own parent.”

“Thank you… Thalassa,” she said, her voice soft, then smiled brightly. “And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll be here.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever share my past with her. As we continued our tour, she led me to the grand terrace on the castle’s highest floor, the only place where the entire estate was visible. I learned that my room was in the west wing, mostly empty except for when special guests stayed. The north wing, the most luxurious, housed the Lord Protector and his family, while the south wing was reserved for lesser employees like Freya. The east wing, however, was where the “blood bags” lived—contracted blood donors.

Freya explained, “Only a few people are allowed into the east wing. The Lord Protector doesn’t want anyone disturbing the blood donors.”

“That sounds more like a prison,” I muttered, eyeing the wing.

“It’s more like a monastery,” Freya chuckled. “The blood bags can’t drink, smoke, or use drugs. Their health is monitored constantly. They can shop, go to spas, and get their hair done, but everything is strictly controlled.”

“That kind of sucks,” I commented.

“They don’t stay for long. Once they realize they’ll never be chosen, they leave after about a year,” she added.

“What happens when they leave?” I asked, suspicious.

“Nothing too terrible. They lose the financial support from the Lord Protector. Sometimes their memories are wiped, but that’s about it.”

I began to see Hadrian in a new light—untouchable, almost like a prince. I couldn’t blame those girls for wanting more than just to be his blood donors. There was something about him, something that made him dangerously alluring. And though I’d long since shut off any desire for intimacy, being near him awakened something within me.

I realized then what I had to do. To protect myself, I needed to ensure that those responsible for Amara’s death were punished—and then leave this place forever.