Three weeks have passed.
I sat in my private office, a sunlit chamber overlooking the vineyards of Ptere, managing matters of the estate. Stacks of parchment lined my desk—tax reports, land surveys, trade updates—all demanding my signature. Beside me stood Kane, my most trusted aide and advisor, a grizzled man of forty-five with a presence as steady as stone.
Kane once served in the royal military, renowned for his mastery as a martial art mage—a rare class that merged spellcraft with hand-to-hand combat. Even in his mid-forties, he remained sharp, disciplined, and dangerous. More importantly, he was one of the few humans who knew the truth about me: that I was not just a vampire, but a Daywalker.
I still remember the day he found out. He didn't flinch, didn't raise his voice or draw his sword. He merely nodded and said, "I've fought monsters before. You're not one of them."
"An invitation has arrived, my lady," Kane announced, handing over a sealed envelope.
I broke the wax and unfolded the letter. Count Brad Levantes. A formal debut party—for his daughter, no less. A noble tradition meant to present her to the aristocracy.
"In five days," I muttered. "And twenty hours by carriage."
Kane raised a brow. "Will you attend?"
I sighed. "I suppose I must. He is a count."
Another tiresome gathering of backhanded compliments and veiled judgments. Still, appearances had to be maintained.
Before I could brood longer, one of the servants arrived to announce the arrival of the blacksmith and the tailor.
I stood quickly. "At last."
---
The Blade and the Battle Dress
I first met with the blacksmith in the courtyard. He had fulfilled my special commission: a katana forged from a newly developed alloy I instructed—Mitrisil, a blend of mithril, carbon, and silver.
The result was breathtaking. Sleek, light, and razor-sharp. Its edge shimmered faintly in the light. The silver embedded in the alloy would sear any vampire or werewolf it cut, suppressing their regeneration. Against humans, it would be mercifully quick—and fatally efficient.
I smiled as I ran a gloved finger along the sheath. "Perfect."
I rewarded the blacksmith with a pouch of gold. He grinned like a child on festival day.
Next, the tailor presented my battle dress. It was elegant yet practical: a frilled upper blouse with reinforced lining, paired with slim black pants that hugged my figure without restricting movement. A detachable flowing overskirt concealed the pants, allowing me to appear as if I wore a traditional two-piece noble ensemble.
"Function meets fashion," I praised. "Exquisite."
The tailor beamed. Another pouch of gold changed hands.
Later, in the courtyard, I practiced with Tania. She learned to toss the katana to me from a distance. I used my vampiric speed to catch it mid-air, unsheathing it in fluid motion. With each throw, the coordination between us improved. This wasn't just practice—it was a deadly new technique in the making.
A Forbidden Thought
That night, I sat alone on my balcony, the stars blinking above, a glass of blood wine in hand. The taste was smooth, familiar. But my thoughts drifted elsewhere—toward the future.
What if I created more Daywalkers?
I had a theory, born from a mix of memory and instinct. If I could successfully turn a loyal servant into a vampire through controlled transfusion—infusing my Daywalker blood into theirs—could I build a personal guard? Or even… a harem of beautiful, loyal, powerful vampire women?
For that, I'd need to be a little wicked.
"Tania," I called softly. "Bring me a loyal maid. Someone beautiful, and obedient."
Tania hesitated, then bowed. "Yes, my lady."
Moments later, she returned with Liza—a dark-haired maid with soft brown eyes and a figure that could turn heads even in the royal court.
"I am ready to serve you, body and mind, Viscountess," Liza said, kneeling before me without fear.
"Tania, prepare a knife, a goblet, and both normal wine and blood wine," I instructed.
When everything was brought, I took the knife and made a small cut on my finger, letting a few drops of my blood fall into the goblet. I added red wine, stirred, and handed it to Liza.
"Drink," I said.
She did.
Then, moments later,
Her body trembled. Her cheeks flushed. A thin layer of sweat glistened on her skin. Then she collapsed.
Tania knelt beside her. "She's breathing... but burning up."
Suddenly, Liza sat upright, her eyes wide, fangs bared. She lunged—toward Tania.
I moved faster than thought, restraining her.
"Drink this," I said firmly, pouring blood wine into her mouth.
She swallowed. Slowly, her body relaxed. Her fangs began to shrink—though not completely.
I examined her. "Still longer than a human's… promising."
"She'll need regular doses of blood wine," I told Tania.
"Yes, my lady," she nodded, guiding Liza to rest in her quarters.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
The first trial was complete. The second would come at sunrise.