Ch. 346..350: The Vampire Prince's Blindfolded Bride Chapter 346-350
Chapter 346: Drives me crazy
"Father, Mother, I have something to tell you," Lillian said, bowing gracefully before her parents. Her eyes held a determined gleam, and her posture was unusually rigid, signaling the importance of her announcement. Esmond, ever perceptive, noticed the gravity of her expression and immediately grew concerned.
"Is everything alright, my dear?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry. "At this hour, you’ve come to see us," he added.
"Yes, Father. Everything is fine," Lillian reassured him, her tone steady and confident. "I am ready with my decision regarding my marriage."
Both Margaret and Esmond exchanged glances with each other, wondering if she would again refuse. Lewis was a good man in their eyes.
"What have you thought then? You asked for a month from Lewis, but you came up with a decision earlier than that," Margaret said with an anxious look.
"Mother, I am ready to marry Lewis. He is perfect for me," Lillian announced her decision with a tiny smile across her lips.
"What?" Both the parents exclaimed in disbelief.
"Yes. I want to marry Lewis. He is truthful and never flattered with me. He even showed me the mirror of my own faults because of which I have become insecured about a lot of things around me. I like men who are true to their nature. I have built a strong trust in him," Lillian explained to her parents.
Esmond and Margaret could not contain their smiles. "We are so delighted, Lily. You’ve finally made a wise decision," Margaret exclaimed, her face lighting up with pride and joy.
Esmond, equally pleased, added, "Then, we need to prepare for the marriage of our daughter as well. Should it happen on the same day as Izaak’s? Let’s discuss this in the morning! I need to call Lewis’s parents to finalize the arrangements."
"Yes, Father. Thank you for bringing this proposal. I’m truly grateful," Lillian expressed, her voice full of humble gratitude.
Esmond chuckled softly. "Anything for my daughter. There’s no need to thank me for this. It’s my duty as a father to find you a man who is worthy of you."
Margaret, still beaming, gently suggested, "You should go now and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll discuss everything in the morning."
"Yes, Mother." Lillian rose from her seat, bowing respectfully to her parents before leaving the chamber.
"Lewis will keep our daughter happy. He won her heart in such a short time," Margaret stated, her voice brimming with maternal pride. The weight of her worries as a mother seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of peace.
"After Magnus came to Velaris, many good things have happened. All our children have found their other halves. I also believe that Alora’s entry into our royal family was a blessing for us," she asserted, acknowledging the positive influence Alora had brought into their lives.
Esmond nodded, his expression remained thoughtful. "I can’t agree more with you, dear. Our family used to be in fragments. When Magnus first told me about this, I was furious. I couldn’t understand what he meant. But later, I realized he was right. We were all separated by hearts, living in the same palace yet so disconnected."
"Yes. That was truly the case," Margaret said. "Let’s retired to bed. It’s already late," she pronounced and placed her hand on his shoulder.
~~~~~
Magnus entered the chamber in his night attire, his footsteps soft against the polished floor. The room was dimly lit by a few flickering candles, casting a warm and intimate glow.
He paused for a moment, taking in the serene scene before him. Alora was already in bed, propped up against a pile of soft pillows. A book lay open in her hands, and she was completely absorbed in its pages.
The candlelight illuminated her face, highlighting her delicate features and casting a gentle radiance over her skin. To Magnus, she looked like an ethereal beauty.
Magnus lay beside Alora, his mind still grappling with the reality of her presence and safety. Only a day ago, their lives had been on the brink of upheaval, a crisis that had threatened to tear them apart.
The memory of the impending danger still lingered in his mind, making him profoundly grateful that Alora was now safe and sound beside him. The thought of being separated from her for an extended period had been almost unbearable, and the relief he felt at having her close was overwhelming.
As Alora continued to read, flipping through the pages with a serene focus, she eventually noticed Magnus’s gaze fixed upon her. She looked up from her book, her eyes meeting his with a hint of curiosity and warmth.
"Magnus!" Alora smiled as she noticed him standing beside the bed. "How long have you been there?" she asked, her voice filled with playful curiosity.
"I entered just a minute ago," Magnus replied, moving closer and sitting down beside her. He propped himself up on his right elbow, leaning in to look at the book she had been reading. "What are you engrossed in?"
Alora glanced at the book on the bedside table before answering. "It’s a story about a young boy who, after becoming an adult, embarks on a journey of wonder."
Magnus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What kind of wonders does the boy experience?"
"He changes the entire law system," Alora explained. "I’m only halfway through, but I’m already captivated by the story."
She reached over to the bedside table, carefully placing the book back in the drawer. As she settled back against the pillows, Magnus leaned in, closing the distance between them. Without giving her a chance to respond, he kissed her deeply.
Alora’s eyes fluttered shut as the kiss intensified. The sheets rustled with their movement, and she soon found herself lying on the mattress. Her hands roamed over Magnus’s back, exploring the familiar contours. With a burst of newfound strength, she flipped him over, their roles reversing.
They both gasped for breath as their lips parted, their eyes locking with a newfound intensity. The room seemed to hold its breath, charged with the energy between them.
Magnus’s fingers traced along Alora’s cheek, his touch tender and affectionate. "Your eyes," he murmured, his gaze softening. "They are red," he whispered.
Alora leaned down, her eyes filled with passion, and captured Magnus’s lips in a fervent kiss.
He, too, responded eagerly, his hand moving to her lower back to draw her closer. His other hand threaded through her hair, gently holding it in place as he deepened the kiss.
As they kissed, Magnus became acutely aware of how heightened Alora’s senses had become since her transformation. He could feel the subtle shift in her touch, the way her fingers explored with newfound sensitivity.
Her hands glided over the fabric of his chest, the delicate material of his thin robe yielding to her touch. With deft movements, she began to undo the knots, her fingers brushing against his skin.
The robe fell away, revealing Magnus’s bare chest. Alora’s hands rested against his exposed skin, her touch warm and tender. She paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on him with a mix of admiration and desire.
Pulling away slightly, Alora’s eyes locked with Magnus’s, the intensity of their previous kiss giving way to a moment of tender vulnerability.
Both of them breathed deeply, savoring the much-needed oxygen as their bodies and hearts gradually settled from the passionate exchange.
Her thumbs rested on his cheeks. "I love you a lot. It increases every day," Alora said while taking deep breaths.
Alora then lowered her head, her lips finding the crook of Magnus’s neck. She began to shower his skin with soft, affectionate kisses, her breath warm against his flesh. Each gentle touch of her lips sent shivers down his spine, and he responded with low, appreciative groans that escaped his throat.
His fingers traced delicate patterns along her spine.
He closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment as Alora’s kisses continued to travel along his neck and shoulders. She inched lower, her lips meeting the cold skin on his chest.
"Alora!" Magnus groaned her name, his voice thick with desire. With a firm grip on her hair, he gently pulled her up until their faces were at the same level.
The intensity of the moment surged as he unleashed his passion, his lips nibbling hers with fervent insistence before seeking entry into her mouth.
As their kiss continued, Magnus’s hands moved with urgency. He worked on her dress, but his impatience quickly led him to tear it from the top. The fabric gave way with a soft rip, exposing her skin beneath.
Alora gasped, her voice tinged with both surprise and a thrill of excitement.
"Magnus!" she almost screamed as she drew back.
Before she could react further, Magnus’s weight pressed down on her, pinning her gently to the mattress. His face buried into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and savoring the warmth of her skin, "Umm... This fragrance of yours drive me crazy." His hands roamed with purpose, exploring the contours of her body with a growing intensity.
As his fingers made contact with her curves, a shiver of pleasure coursed through Alora. Her back arched instinctively, responding to the gentle but deliberate touch of his hand.
"Ah, Magnus," Alora moaned his name, her fingers reached the locks of his hair.
His hands moved with a confident grace, his touch eliciting responses from Alora that only deepened his own arousal.
"Love, you are already giving in. I’ve not even begun yet," Magnus said.
"I don’t know. I-I feel hot... I never experienced like this before," Alora admitted, her eyes searching for an answer in his.
"Because you are a vampire now," Magnus said and smirked.
Chapter 347: A leisurely game
The next morning, Magnus carefully penned a message for Rienna, sealing it with his personal insignia before handing it to Tobias, his most trusted attendant.
Tobias, ever diligent and respectful, took the message with a slight bow, awaiting further instructions. Magnus stood up from his ornate chair, his expression calm yet carrying the weight of the decisions he had to make.
"Inform Alora that I won’t be here until the afternoon," Magnus instructed, his voice firm but measured, as he straightened his attire, preparing for the day ahead.
Tobias, always eager to serve, couldn’t help but ask, his tone filled with humility, "Where is His Highness heading to?"
Magnus paused for a moment, his gaze distant as if contemplating his next move. "I’m going to see Damien," he finally responded, the name hanging in the air like a dark cloud. "He hasn’t been executed yet. The day of execution has been set for tomorrow," Magnus added.
"I understand, Your Highness," Tobias said and bowed to him.
Magnus strode purposefully out of the chamber. He reached the carriage and entered in. Once inside, he leaned back against the plush seat, letting out a quiet breath.
Before he could settle into his thoughts, the carriage door swung open. Magnus looked up to see Izaak, his eldest brother, standing there with a determined expression.
"I’m coming with you," Izaak declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. Magnus barely had time to open his mouth to protest before Izaak climbed in, making himself comfortable beside him. To Magnus’s surprise, his second brother Alaric quickly followed, slipping inside with a grin.
The door clicked shut behind them, and the carriage jolted into motion. Magnus glanced between his two brothers, suspicion and annoyance flickering in his eyes.
"I’m not heading out for a leisurely game," he remarked dryly, his gaze narrowing on the two. "And how exactly did you know where I was going?"
"It wasn’t hard to figure out," Izaak replied with a nonchalant shrug. His confidence was characteristic, as was his knack for knowing what Magnus was up to.
Magnus shook his head slightly, not entirely pleased with their unexpected company. "Shouldn’t you be busy with wedding preparations?" he asked, directing his question more pointedly at Izaak.
Izaak’s expression softened, a hint of weariness in his voice as he replied, "I am. But given the recent troubles, we’ve postponed it for another week. There’s too much going on right now to celebrate properly."
Magnus nodded, understanding the reasoning even if he wasn’t thrilled with the intrusion. He was about to say something more when Alaric, always the energetic one, leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. "I have some good news to share," he announced, clearly eager to change the mood.
Both Magnus and Izaak turned their attention to Alaric, their curiosity piqued. It wasn’t often that Alaric carried news with such enthusiasm.
"Our sister has agreed to marry Lewis," Alaric revealed, his voice brimming with excitement. "Last night, she told our parents. She’s finally learned to trust."
Magnus’s stern expression softened as he absorbed the news. This was indeed unexpected but welcomed. Izaak, too, seemed pleased, his earlier tension giving way to a warm smile.
"That’s wonderful news," Magnus replied, his voice warm with genuine happiness for their sister. "She’s made a good choice. Hopefully, she won’t ruin her life by suspecting all the time."
Izaak, sharp as ever, caught the slight tension in Magnus’s tone. He narrowed his eyes and studied his younger brother. "Why do you sound as if you and Lillian argued again?"
"She’s younger than us, Magnus," Alaric added, trying to smooth things over. "Her words are sharp, but you should ignore them. She doesn’t always mean what she says."
Magnus kept silent about the real reason for their argument—Lillian’s unfounded suspicions about Melody and her harsh accusation that he was greedy for the throne. He knew that sharing this would only create unnecessary conflict between Izaak and Lillian, and the last thing he wanted was to stir up more trouble within the family.
Izaak wasn’t so easily deterred. "Did she say something to you?" he pressed, his voice firm, demanding an answer.
Magnus went silent, his hand drifting to his forehead as he rubbed his temple. The weight of Lillian’s words still lingered in his mind, but he chose to keep them to himself.
He let the silence speak for him, hoping that Izaak and Alaric would drop the subject. After a moment, he simply sighed and leaned back in his seat, signaling that he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it further.
"Magnus is ever so mysterious. I wish Alora could read his mind," Alaric remarked with a light chuckle, trying to ease the tension that had settled in the carriage.
Magnus remained silent, his thoughts still wrapped around the previous conversation, but Alaric’s comment had successfully diverted Izaak’s attention.
"What kind of ability does she have, I wonder? Have you tried finding out?" Izaak asked, his curiosity piqued as their discussion naturally shifted to Alora, the enigmatic figure who often lingered in their thoughts.
Magnus shook his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I haven’t, and I’m not interested in knowing what abilities she possesses," he replied calmly. "As long as they remain hidden, it’s better that way. Alora has already suffered enough because of her eyes. So many enemies got attracted to her just because her eyes have a magic that everyone wants to possess."
Izaak nodded thoughtfully, his mind churning over the possibilities. "Hmm. But she’s stronger than any of us, isn’t she? Her eyes... I can’t help but wonder if they’ve grown even more powerful. Maybe she’s gained control over them, learned to harness whatever power they hold."
Magnus’s expression grew more serious as he considered Izaak’s words. Alora’s strength had always been a topic of quiet speculation among them, but none of them truly knew the extent of her abilities—or the cost that came with them.
"When will you transform Melody?" Magnus suddenly asked, shifting the focus back to Izaak. His gaze was steady as he tilted his head slightly, his tone measured but curious. "She won’t wake up the way Alora did. Are you prepared to wait for a year? Are you ready for what that might mean?"
Izaak’s face tightened slightly at the question, his thoughts immediately turning to Melody. The process of transformation was a delicate and dangerous one, something that couldn’t be rushed or taken lightly. Unlike Alora, who had woken up with newfound strength and abilities, Melody’s journey would be different—potentially more fraught with challenges and uncertainty.
"I’m ready to wait," Izaak responded after a moment of contemplation, his voice firm with determination. "Melody’s transformation needs to happen in its own time. I’ll wait, no matter how long it take," He vividly remembered his vision about Melody. She came to him with a rose in her hand and eyes red. And he was eager to see that vision come true.
Chapter 348: I have one sad memory
Damien’s entire body was wracked with pain. The ashwood drink he’d been forced to swallow earlier was tearing him apart from the inside, making his insides feel like they were on fire.
Every breath was a struggle as his throat alternated between being unbearably dry and agonizingly itchy. Hunger gnawed at him, primal and overwhelming, driving him nearly to madness.
He needed blood—his body screamed for it—just a few drops to quench his thirst and stave off the unbearable weakness creeping over him.
Suddenly, the grating sound of metal on metal echoed through the dungeon, and Damien’s head snapped up. The iron gate creaked open, revealing the silhouettes of three figures.
As they stepped into the dim light, Damien’s eyes widened in disbelief. There, standing unharmed and very much alive, was Magnus.
His voice, hoarse from the torture he had endured, barely escaped his cracked lips as he croaked out a question, "H-how did you manage to live?" The shock and confusion in his voice were evident, as he had been certain that Magnus wouldn’t have survived after his deadly attack.
Damien’s voice trembled as desperation took hold of him. He was weak, battered, and helpless, with only one thought consuming his mind—survival. "Let me live," he pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear and pain. "I won’t do anything. I promise you three, just give me a chance to live. Please, I beg you."
His eyes darted between the three princes, searching for even a glimmer of mercy. But the cold, unforgiving gaze that met his own made his heart sink.
Izaak stepped forward, his presence dominating the dark dungeon. The corners of his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk as he looked down at Damien, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I don’t think you should be requesting mercy, Damien," he said, his voice dripping with menace.
"Instead, you should be begging us to free you from this torment," Izaak continued, leaning closer, his breath hot against Damien’s ear. "Every second will only become more excruciating for you, Damien Von Grimm. The pain you feel now is just the beginning."
"Do you now realize the grave mistake you made?" Alaric asked this time, his voice low and taunting. He didn’t need to elaborate—Damien knew exactly what he was referring to.
His actions had not only ignited a deadly conflict between the vampires and the witches but had also endangered the life of their brother and Alora, someone he had never intended to harm.
All Damien wanted was a single chance—just one opportunity to escape this place. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was a futile hope. The odds were stacked against him, and there was no mercy in the eyes of those who now stood before him.
A cold silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken threats, until Magnus finally broke it. His voice was steady, almost too calm, as he addressed Damien. "You asked me a question, Damien. Do you remember what it was?"
Magnus moved with a calculated grace, lowering himself to one knee until his face was level with Damien’s. Magnus rested his right knee on the cold stone floor, his left hand casually perched on his knee, as if this were a casual conversation rather than an interrogation.
"Can’t recall?" Magnus asked, his tone mocking as he peered into Damien’s eyes. There was no compassion in his gaze, only a cold, piercing intensity that made Damien’s blood run cold. "You’re so good at manipulating others, twisting their emotions with their own tragic memories. But you seem to be struggling to remember your own deeds now, aren’t you?"
But before he could speak, Magnus pressed on, his voice turning even sharper. "Gloria didn’t want to go against the King. She was loyal, despite everything, and that’s why you killed her. You made her recall her saddest memory, the death of her daughter, the reason why she fell weak in front of you."
The memory came rushing back to Damien in a sudden, terrifying clarity. He remembered the question he had posed to Magnus, the one he had asked with a cruel curiosity just before he had plunged the dagger into Magnus’s heart. It was a moment of twisted satisfaction for Damien then, but now, it haunted him.
"Why is there no sad memory in you?" Damien’s voice trembled as he repeated the question, his tone now stripped of the arrogance it once held.
He could barely force the words out, his voice low and broken.
Magnus’s eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his features before it was replaced by a fury that was almost palpable. "I have one sad memory," Magnus said, his voice tight with emotion. "The memory of my aunt’s death. Tell me, Damien, that you were the one who killed her."
The words were a demand, not a question, and Damien could see the raw wound that still lingered in Magnus’s eyes. The fury and hurt were unmistakable, radiating off him like a storm ready to break.
For a moment, Damien just stared into those eyes, seeing the pain he had caused reflected back at him. He could sense Magnus probing into his thoughts, and he knew it would take mere seconds for him to find the truth. This, however, gave him satisfaction. Finally, he could see that pain in Magnus’s eyes.
And then it happened—Magnus saw it. The truth of what Damien had done, hidden deep within his mind, was laid bare.
In an instant, Magnus’s fury erupted. Before Damien could even react, Magnus’s hand shot out, seizing him by the throat with a grip like iron. The suddenness of the attack left Damien breathless, his eyes widening in shock and fear.
With a strength fueled by rage, Magnus yanked Damien off the ground, his feet leaving the cold dungeon floor as he was lifted effortlessly into the air.
The impact of his back slamming against the wall sent a jolt of pain through Damien’s already weakened body. His vision blurred as he struggled to breathe, Magnus’s hand cutting off his air supply as he held him there, suspended against the rough stone wall.
"Magnus!" Izaak’s sharp voice cut through the tension, but Magnus didn’t seem to hear him.
Chapter 349: Your mind games
Alaric’s voice was firm but edged with concern as he turned to Izaak. "He won’t listen. Let him do what he needs to," he insisted, understanding the resolve burning within Magnus.
Magnus tightened his grip around Damien’s throat, his eyes filled with cold fury. Damien, despite his weakening state, forced a smirk, though his struggle to break free was evident.
"Magnus, you really don’t want to dirty your hands with my blood, do you?" Damien wheezed, trying to inject a note of fearlessness into his voice.
Magnus’s expression remained unmoved, his tone low and lethal. "Your mind games won’t work on me, Damien. The day I found my aunt dead under mysterious circumstances, I swore I’d kill the one responsible with my own hands. You should have been smarter in your pursuit of victory," he snarled, his grip tightening further.
Damien, realizing his helplessness, forced a bitter chuckle. "Then do it, Magnus. Kill me. But know this—you’ll never forget my face. Taking my heart out won’t be easy for someone like you. You’ve gone soft since marrying Alora," he spat out, trying to provoke Magnus with every word.
Magnus’s lips curled into a cold, merciless smile. "Do you really think I’ll give you an easy death? Where’s the satisfaction in that? You will suffer," he hissed, abruptly releasing Damien’s neck. Damien slumped against the wall, gasping for air, but his lips curled into a sinister grin as he regained his composure.
"Make sure I don’t escape, Magnus," Damien sneered, lifting his head defiantly. "Because when I do, I’ll tear out the heart of your beloved Alora." His voice dripped with malice as his eyes gleamed with malevolence.
Before Magnus could react, Izaak stepped forward, placing a calming hand on his brother’s shoulder. "That won’t happen, Damien," Izaak said, his voice steady and filled with quiet power. "Her eyes will be your undoing." His words brought a sense of calm over Magnus, who momentarily softened under the weight of Izaak’s reassurance.
Damien gritted his teeth, fury simmering beneath his gaze as the iron shackles clinked ominously around his wrists.
His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he was powerless as the two guardians secured the bindings, their faces stoic and unyielding.
The sound of metal against metal reverberated through the cold, stone walls of the dungeon, a prelude to the next round of torment.
With a swift, practiced motion, one of the guardians forced a goblet filled with a dark, viscous liquid to Damien’s lips. The Ashwood brew slid down his throat, burning his insides like fire. Damien’s body convulsed, and his sharp, agonized cries pierced the oppressive silence, echoing off the walls of the dank dungeon.
Magnus watched for a moment, his face a mask of indifference, before turning on his heels. Without a word, he strode toward the exit, his brothers Izaak and Alaric flanking him. The heavy metal gate creaked open, and they stepped out into the corridor, leaving the wretched sounds of Damien’s suffering behind them.
As they made their way through the path of the prison, Magnus broke the silence. "The shapeshifters we captured—they’re not from this kingdom. They hail from the Northern Kingdom," he informed his brothers, his voice as sharp and clear as a blade.
Izaak, ever the strategist, narrowed his eyes in thought. "How many of them are there?" he asked, his mind already working through the implications.
Magnus’s expression was grim. "Around a dozen," he replied. "We’ve managed to capture ten of them, but two are still out there, free. If we don’t find them soon, they could stir up more trouble than we can handle. We need to catch them before they wreak havoc."
They reached the courtyard where the sleek, black carriage awaited them. The coachman swiftly descended from his perch and opened the carriage door with a bow.
Magnus, Izaak, and Alaric entered the carriage. As the door closed behind them with a solid click, the carriage lurched forward, the horses setting off at a brisk pace.
Magnus leaned back against the cushioned seat, his gaze distant but determined. "We’ll need to act fast," he said, breaking the silence once more. "We can’t afford to let those two escape our grasp."
Alaric nodded and said, "We’ll split our forces. We can cover more ground that way."
Izaak crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful yet resolute. "We’ll find them, Magnus," Izaak said with unwavering confidence, his eyes locking onto his brother’s. After a brief pause, his expression shifted to one of inquiry. "But could you read Damien’s mind this time? Can you get a sense of where they might be hiding?"
Magnus hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing as he recalled the fragmented and chaotic thoughts he had glimpsed in Damien’s mind.
"They’re hiding among the werewolf packs," he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration. "But I couldn’t discern which one. His thoughts were deliberately clouded, layered with deception. What I can assure you, though, is that they are still within this capital. They won’t risk leaving, not while their primary task remains incomplete."
Izaak and Alaric listened intently, their expressions darkening as the gravity of the situation settled over them. Magnus continued, his tone resolute, "Their mission is clear—they’re here to rescue Damien, and they’ll stop at nothing to accomplish that. We can’t afford to let our guard down, not for a moment."
Alaric leaned forward as his mind already working through the necessary precautions. "Then we need to bolster our defenses immediately. Double the guards at every entrance and post sentries at strategic points around the dungeon. No one goes in or out without our explicit permission."
"I’ll talk to the Werewolves Elders. They will cooperate us," Izaak said with a determined gaze.
"Hmm. If the shapeshifters aren’t caught early, they may become a threat for us later," Magnus stated.
"We understand. Don’t worry. We will catch them. In the packs, Alphas can easily spot the ones who don’t belong to their packs if they are informed about the moles," Izaak reminded him and told Magnus not to stress out himself.
Chapter 350: A gratitude gift for Odin
"What? Why should we go to Odin’s house?" Venus asked. She watched her mother, Rhea, busily preparing a basket filled with various homemade treats. The whole situation seemed out of the blue to her.
Rhea didn’t pause in her work, carefully arranging the contents of the basket. "Because, my dear, Odin protected us for more than a month," she explained gently, glancing up at Venus with a warm, understanding smile. "He put himself on the line to ensure our safety, and we owe him a lot for that. It’s only right that we thank him personally."
Venus frowned slightly, still not entirely convinced. "But why now? And why with cakes?" she questioned, her tone softening a bit as she saw the sincerity in her mother’s eyes.
Rhea chuckled softly as she looked at Venus fully. "When Odin was here, he often mentioned how much he liked the milk cakes I made. He even joked about how they reminded him of home. This is just a small gesture, something from the heart, to show our gratitude. I want him to know that we appreciate everything he did for us."
As Rhea spoke, Norman, who had been sitting quietly at the sofa with a book in his hand, set it aside. He had been listening to the conversation, and now he chimed in.
"Your mother is right, Venus," he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of his conviction. "Odin did a lot for us. He risked more than we know, and we can’t repay him with money or material things. But a gesture like this—something that shows we care and haven’t forgotten his kindness—can mean a great deal."
Venus was reluctant about going to his house. She remembered well how he said to her not to show her face to him. Venus lips twisted in annoyance, but she couldn’t deny the fact that Odin did help them a lot.
"But will we be allowed in a vampire’s house?" Venus questioned, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, are humans even permitted in their places? I don’t think we should go there," she suggested cautiously, her earlier reluctance creeping back into her tone.
Norman and Rhea exchanged uneasy glances, the reality of the situation dawning on them. Rhea’s smile faded as she realized they hadn’t fully considered the implications of visiting a vampire’s residence.
"Ahh, I didn’t even think about that," Rhea admitted, her enthusiasm deflating. She turned to the servant, who was standing nearby, and instructed them to take the basket back to the kitchen.
But before the servant could move, Venus quickly stopped her. "Wait," she said, her tone more decisive. "I know where I can find Odin. If Mother still wants to give him the basket, I can deliver it to him."
Rhea’s eyes widened in surprise. "Will you go alone?" she asked, concern was evident in her voice.
Venus nodded, trying to reassure her mother. "The place is in the market, Mother. Odin mentioned once that he and Griffin are usually there. It’s not far, and it’s a public area, so it should be safe."
Norman, intrigued by this sudden turn of events, leaned forward. "Which place?" he asked.
At this, Venus hesitated, the truth catching in her throat. The place she was referring to wasn’t just any ordinary spot—it was a bar specifically catering to vampires, an exclusive gathering place where the elite could socialize and indulge in their preferred pleasures.
Humans were rarely seen there, and those who ventured in usually did so at their own risk. She knew this, and yet she found herself unable to tell her parents the truth. Instead, she forced a casual smile and replied, "Uh, Father, it’s... it’s a kind of tea house."
The words felt strange on her tongue, and she could hardly believe she had lied about something so significant.
"A tea house? Why would the vampires drink tea?" Norman inquired with a confused glance.
"Forgive me. I mean to say that it is a place, where every kind of drinks are served. The market takes a long time to reach. Mother has a lot of works to do. That’s why I volunteered myself. Maybe next time Odin will come, then Mother can prepare milk cakes for him again," Venus opined.
Rhea considered Venus’s words, her initial concern giving way to practicality. The basket was already prepared, and it would be a shame to waste the opportunity to express their gratitude.
"You’re right," Rhea finally agreed, her tone softening. "You should deliver it then. And while you’re in the market, could you bring back a few things for me? If I go, it’ll delay lunch, and I’ve already put so much effort into preparing this basket. It’s better for you to go."
Norman, who had been listening intently, gave a slow nod of approval. "Alright, Venus, you can go," he said, though his voice carried an undertone of concern.
Despite his permission, the thought of his daughter wandering through a market frequented by vampires alone didn’t sit well with him. So, he went outside to instruct the two guards to follow her daughter.
A servant carefully carried the basket to the waiting carriage, placing it gently on the cushioned seat. Venus followed, settling herself on the opposite side with a thoughtful expression.
As the coachman locked the door from the outside and the carriage began to move, a quiet murmur escaped her lips, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "I should have avoided seeing Odin... but I can’t seem to stay away. If he gets annoyed by my presence, then so be it. I’ll face whatever comes."
A smile carved on her lips as she began thinking how Odin would appear seeing her again. She didn’t like the way he talked to her the last day. She was no longer the old Venus. She was changed and she wanted Odin to acknowledge more than anyone.
The journey to the market took over an hour, the carriage rocking gently as it made its way through the winding roads. She stepped out of the carriage, the cool air brushing against her skin, and she looked around at the bustling market before her.
The coachman retrieved the basket from the carriage, holding it out for her. "I’ll take it from here," Venus said, her voice steady as she accepted the basket. "You three should stay here."
One of the guards, a stern-looking man with sharp eyes, stepped forward, his expression firm. "But our Master has instructed us to follow Miss Venus," he reminded her, clearly unwilling to defy Norman’s orders.
Venus met his gaze. "I understand, but I’ll be fine. I’ll return soon, and there’s no need to follow me." Before the guard could protest further, Venus turned and began walking swiftly into the market, the basket held securely in her hands.