Blood-sucking fangs

Chapter 46

Just then, a light blue figure entered his field of vision. It was a girl running hurriedly from the other end of the lawn. She was running so fast that she even lost her shoes. His gaze was immediately drawn to her bare feet, which were not wearing socks. They were so white and so slender, sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight. He never imagined that just a foot could evoke such a strong impulse in him.

Even though he didn't blink, the foot disappeared from his sight. The girl put on her shoes and complained about the heartlessness of her companions.

The bird-like sounds didn't reach his ears; he was determined to play with those feet properly.

Unripe apples are always harder to pick, but isn't that just right? Be a little more shy and reserved; surrendering too quickly will only lead to being abandoned sooner.

He hoped the girl could last a month, which was already a high estimate, but she greatly exceeded his expectations.

"No, Count de von Nicola!"

"No, Gulan de von Nicola!"

"No, no, dear Gulan."

Volume Two, Chapter Sixty-Four: Father's Last Words

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The girl's feelings for him deepened, but her lips always uttered rejection. He was furious and annoyed. The entire upper class knew he was pursuing Frizzise, the daughter of the Medani widow, and knew he had been rebuffed. Everyone wore smug faces, waiting to see him make a fool of himself. Some particularly bored men even mimicked the girl's voice, saying, "No...no..."

"Why are you refusing me? Don't you love me?" One day he finally couldn't hold back and yelled at the poor girl.

The girl's eyes filled with tears, and she said in a trembling but firm tone, "But we're not married yet, Gu Lan."

Yes, that damned Medani, though a slut, raised her daughter to be a virgin!

He tried everything but couldn't get the girl to agree. At most, he could only say in an agitated tone, "How much I love you, my dear Gu Lan, do you love me? No, no, you don't love me, don't deny it, I know you don't love me, but I still love you, love you to the bone. You want proof? You want my body? God, you're so cruel! My whole soul belongs to you, and you still want my body! No! I can't give it to you, even if you hate me for it, I can't give it to you. That belongs to my future husband, it's the only thing I can give him. Please, don't be so cruel."

She humbled herself, pleading with tears in her eyes, but her stubborn little head still swayed from side to side.

Marriage? Spending your life with one woman? Wouldn't that kind of life be even more boring? But marrying this young woman shouldn't be a problem, right? She loves him madly and has a strong will that would never betray him, while he can continue his current life.

The only trouble was the rumors surrounding the philandering Count de von Nicolae, who had fallen for a virgin who didn't even know what a man was...

But who cares? They'll soon see who the real winner is.

Upon receiving his proposal, the girl was not overjoyed but instead showed a look of horror: "Gu Lan, my dear Gu Lan, how could you do this? Heavens, how could you be so cruel!"

He must have been frowning when he asked that question: "Don't you love me? Don't you want to marry me?"

"No—no!" The girl cried, as if she were about to be eaten by wolves. "God, why are you so cruel? Why do I have to love him so much? I know he can't do it, I know his heart can't be bound, but I still can't refuse. This is hell, this is heaven, God, how could you create such a place!"

"If you really don't want to, then just refuse." He was genuinely impatient.

"Will you really treat me as your only wife?" The girl raised her tear-streaked face. "Please tell me the truth, don't lie to me, please don't lie to me."

"Of course, you are of course my only wife." He made the promise with unusual ease, something he had said millions of times before.

She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in her smile.

They finally got married, and all of Paris was in an uproar. Some said the wine at their wedding was made from women's tears, and others said they received a thousand times more curses than blessings.

Perhaps that's really the case, otherwise, how could such a thing have happened later?

Volume Two, Chapter Sixty-Five: Father's Last Words

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Married life wasn't as unbearable as he had imagined. Especially when he discovered that his wife wasn't just endearing for her bound feet. Her temperament, her actions, her sleeping posture, even the way she combed her hair, gave him a feeling like rock sugar water—cool, sweet, not stimulating, not spicy, but comforting.

He was captivated, forgetting his previous plans. The eyes of countless noblewomen were glued to her all day long, like bees swarming around flowers, without finding it monotonous or irritating at all.

That period in my memory is always filled with sunshine and bright moonlight.

But at a banquet, he overheard people whispering: "Who would have thought Medinay's daughter had such charm!" "Yes, yes, at first I thought it was just a new game." "Poor Frotha, still waiting for him to turn around!" "My God! He's still so handsome, how could he fall for a green apple like Frisis?" "I never imagined he'd be so loyal to her, so in love with her!"...

Infatuation? Loyalty? Love?

Would these things happen to him? Would he give up all his fine champagne for a glass of rock sugar water? Of course not!

Was it laughable arrogance? Perhaps. But he resumed his womanizing ways, pretending not to see the pain on that small face.

He returned home late again and was surprised to find her, who always went to bed early, sitting on a soft stool with her back straight. He kissed her, and she accepted it numbly.

"You promised me that you would only have me as your wife."

“Of course I only have you as my wife, my dear little girl.” That’s what he always called her.

"Then what about the women outside?"

He was somewhat irritated, but he didn't intend to hide it—and it was impossible to hide anyway. The entire upper class was like that; as long as they weren't exposed to the light of day, everyone was still considered virtuous and chaste.

"Don't worry about this, you will always be my wife."

Every woman would be happy to hear him say that, but she stood up angrily from the soft stool: "I said I want fairness! Even if it's impossible emotionally, it should at least be fair in terms of body and dignity. So I will absolutely preserve my virginity for my husband, and likewise, I demand his fidelity after marriage! I said it, and you promised me, Gu Lan, you said you would do it!"

Did he say that? He couldn't remember, only that he thought she was making a big fuss over it: "You don't want to argue with me about this, do you, darling?"

She didn't argue with him, but looked at him seriously and said, "If you can't do it, then I will take back the chastity I've kept for you."

He chuckled dismissively, dismissing it as nothing more than a sarcastic threat. But he was wrong; just like him, she made no attempt to hide the fact that she had a lover.

He shouldn't care; that's how society is all. He should wisely pretend he doesn't know; everyone does it.

But he couldn't do it! He was furious! He grabbed her and yelled at her to break up with the other man completely.

Ah—he forgot how stubborn she was; that headstrong little virgin had reappeared.

Her voice trembled, but remained firm: "If you never associate with other women again, I'll do as you say! Otherwise, for every mistress you have, I'll find a lover!"

This wasn't a threat; it was her plan. She wanted fairness—she wanted him to be physically fair, even if he couldn't love her as much as she loved him emotionally.

How is that possible?

Volume Two, Chapter Sixty-Six: Father's Last Words

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He continued to associate with other women, and she continued to flirt with other men—even though he forbade her to leave the house, she always managed to escape the watchmen's eyes.

Finally, he could no longer tolerate it. Even if he wanted to pretend he didn't care, the rumors circulating in society made it impossible for him to. He exposed her, humiliated her in public, kicked her out of the house, and her reputation was ruined.

As she left, there was no regret on her face; her eyes remained filled with deep affection as she looked at him: "If you would rather do this than give me fairness, then this marriage truly has no reason to continue."

She left gracefully, but committed suicide that very night.

He finally realized they were right—he loved her.

That was the time when all of Europe was burned, and the Inquisition kept burning wizards, alchemists, Protestants, and anyone labeled as a propagator of heresy, whom they saw as the devil's mouthpiece.

Most people end up on the pyre because they offended someone in power or were being retaliated against; out of ten thousand, there might not be even one real wizard. Yet, people's belief in witchcraft and various rumors has reached an incomprehensible level.

They believed that the dead could be resurrected, that male goats were the embodiment of the devil, and that every Saturday the devil would come to earth to hold a gathering of demons with the wizards!

He threw himself madly into this delusional and chaotic belief, frantically seeking help from those so-called wizards. Why? To resurrect her? To see her one more time? To say something more? He didn't know; his thoughts were chaotic, his frantic actions lacked a clear objective, simply a refusal to end things this way!

That stubborn little head just vanished like that? Those crystal-clear little feet just disappeared like that? That little person, as delicate as candy water, just vanished like that?

Impossible! A play can't end at its climax, how can a person just die like that?

His actions finally attracted the attention of the Inquisition; more precisely, those who hated him finally seized their opportunity. The court sentenced him to death for witchcraft and confiscated all his property.

On the night before his execution, he met his elder relative, a haggard middle-aged man with a full head of white hair. When the man appeared in the solemn stone chamber wrapped in a black cloak, he thought he had really seen the devil.

That night, he became a vampire.

"Resurrection is impossible. Find her reincarnation. If you can still recognize her then."

That was the only reason he joined.

Do I regret it? Have I regretted it over the years? Maybe I have, especially when I first found her.

Although both his elders and the wizards he later met told him that a person's reincarnation doesn't happen so quickly, the long wait still made him anxious, especially worried that he might not be able to find her reincarnation.

He would always move from one place to another, quickly surveying the entire city before heading to the next place with a mix of disappointment and hope.

A second and a century make no difference to them, but that only applies to the physical body. The length of time always has an absolute impact on the mind.

Year after year of searching, he had long forgotten his initial feelings; his relentless efforts were simply because it had become a goal, a belief. What if he found her? Start over? Turn her into a vampire too?

He didn't know.

However, it was at that very moment that the moonlit massacre began.

Volume Two, Chapter Sixty-Seven: Father's Last Words

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It is said that this war between vampires and humans has happened more than once. Secret, legendary, and small-scale conflicts have been passed down among both humans and vampires. But this time, it is probably the largest in all the recorded accounts.

It was a bloody event that swept across Europe. The victims were both vampires and humans. Although traditionally a vampire doesn't have more than two offspring, in that event they created a large number of mindless vampire zombies that only knew how to suck blood. However, even so, they couldn't stop the attack of hundreds of thousands, millions, or even tens of millions of people.

The vampires lost, but humanity cannot claim victory either. In this mutually destructive situation, the Camarilla Treaty added a clause on escapism. Humans would not organize large-scale hunts, and in return, the vampires would not be allowed to create large numbers of vampire zombies and corpses.

He was in England at the time and was not directly involved in the war. Most of the time, he was just an observer. Until he met "her"—by then, she could no longer be called "her".

Although she recognized him at a glance, she felt no joy. She had been reincarnated, but as a man.

What was the purpose of his search all these years? What was the purpose of becoming like this? Was it all for a boy who hadn't even fully matured yet?

He was handsome, with sunny blond hair that seemed to fly like gold dust when he jumped, but what would he want a boy for?

Yes, homosexuality has always been a custom among the nobility, but she is no longer herself.

He regretted it, didn't he? During that time, he stood in the shadows of his room all night, wanting a thousand times to rush up and kill her. If only this one died, she would come back. He could wait; he had eternal life.

He didn't make a move, but another vampire did—it was an act of revenge because the boy's father had participated in the hunt.

He stood in the shadows, watching those gleaming, thin, sharp fangs pierce his pale skin, watching his rosy face gradually turn pale. Did it hurt? He didn't know, but every night afterward he still stood in that spot, looking at the now empty bed, until a thought suddenly popped into his head—what was it that he truly loved?

He was captivated by her beautiful little feet and charmed by her genuine and sweet demeanor. If that was all he loved, why not seek out a more beautiful face? Her appearance wasn't particularly outstanding, but weren't there any girls more beautiful than those feet? Were there no girls more adorable than her?

What truly drove him mad?

Her stubbornness, her temperament, her courage, her soul—aren't these what truly make her? Not just the body. What difference does it make whether she is herself or him? If the factors that attracted him are gone, what use is it even if her appearance remains the same?

Another missed opportunity; right before his eyes, her life was taken away.

Revenge was useless. But he still found the vampire, locked him in a stone chamber, and starved him to death in a way that vampires could not bear.

He knew he truly hated himself, but he couldn't die yet. Having made two mistakes, he would never, and absolutely could not, make a third.

Thinking of this, a smile curved his thin lips. Everything was going well; he was as stubborn as ever, but that didn't matter, they had plenty of time.

He stood up and poured himself a glass of champagne. His brow furrowed slightly. Long lifespans were indeed tedious, but surely no vampire would forget the lesson of the last time and attempt a new moonlit massacre so quickly? After all, that might lead to…

Volume Two, Chapter Sixty-Eight: Father's Last Words