Chapter 10

“…I’m sorry for coming unannounced.”

The grip that had been holding Agnes, strong and desperate, slowly loosened.

It seemed Dylan had sensed her fear.

Agnes scrambled to hide the emotions he had already seen through and spoke in a flustered rush.

“No, it’s fine. I was actually worried you hadn’t come. I thought maybe you’d taken care of it in the Imperial Palace… but if not, you should have come to me, just as you promised.”

“As I promised.”

He repeated her words quietly, though it was hard to read his expression.

Agnes tilted her head slightly, then slipped off the shawl draped over her shoulders.

Her skin, hidden beneath the simple nightgown and shawl, was revealed under the pale moonlight.

When she lifted her bare arm toward him, Dylan took it in both hands, as if handling something sacred.

The next step came quickly.

He could no longer restrain himself. His lips, flushed red, pressed against her skin.

As his breath cooled her arm, sharp fangs sank deep into her flesh.

“Ah…!”

It wasn’t a pain one could ever grow used to, no matter how many times it happened.

Instinctively, Agnes tried to step back, but Dylan’s strong arm circled her waist, holding her close.

It was the grip of a predator restraining its prey.

Agnes trembled, staring at the man so often called a cursed monster.

Dylan buried his face deeper, close enough that the tip of his nose pressed against her skin, and drank the blood flowing from her wound.

With every movement of his throat, Agnes’s head grew lighter.

At the same time, something strange swelled in her chest, an inexplicable feeling of being invaded even as he drank from her.

But unlike that night in the ballroom when everything had been rushed and frantic, this time his movements were calm and almost restrained.

Because of that, she gradually found herself breathing evenly again.

When Dylan finally lifted his head, it seemed his meal was finished.

His breath brushed against her skin, warmer now than before.

Taking a white handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it gently to her arm.

Thankfully, the wound was shallow, and only a small stain of blood marked the fabric.

“Are you all right?”

That one question snapped her scattered thoughts back into focus. Agnes gave a faint, embarrassed smile and nodded.

“I’m fine. I’ve done this before, remember? What about you, Your Grace? It’s been five days… You could have called me to the palace if it was that bad.”

“I didn’t want to call you there. His Majesty is difficult to deal with when he’s in a temper.”

Dylan looked far more composed now.

His eyes had regained their clear blue hue, and his cheeks, once ghostly pale, now held a trace of human warmth.

The dark circles beneath his eyes had nearly vanished, and his breathing sounded calm again.

But the moment the Emperor was mentioned, his brows drew together and his gaze turned sharp.

It surprised her. Gavelin had made their relationship sound close and trusting.

She wanted to ask but held back. Asking about family matters when they weren’t even a real couple felt inappropriate.

“Next time, please just send for me,” she said instead. “You looked terrible earlier. You said drinking every three days was ideal, right? Then let’s do that.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve never had the luxury of drinking that often.”

“But now you have me.”

“As long as I can keep my composure, it’s enough. I’ll come every five days.”

His tone left no room for argument.

Agnes couldn’t understand it.

Of course, she always felt weak after he fed, but it wasn’t nearly as severe as the exhaustion he suffered.

Why refuse when she was willingly offering?

When Dylan turned as if to leave, she hurriedly grabbed his sleeve.

“Every five days is too dangerous. What if something delays you? Please, at least make it every four…”

“I don’t act carelessly.”

Agnes frowned slightly.

That wasn’t true. He couldn’t fully control himself; she had already witnessed it.

“Then what about that night at the ballroom? You looked like it had been far longer than five days!”

“You don’t need to know.”

The finality in his voice drew a clear line between them.

Agnes opened her mouth, then closed it again.

She wasn’t trying to act like the mistress of the Vasteron household. She knew she had no such right, and she didn’t even want it.

But this, providing her blood, was part of her duty. It was something she should be concerned about.

Her lips pressed together tightly. Seeing that, Dylan sighed.

Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he spoke quietly.

“I’m investigating the Overhen family. There’s no need to worry, I won’t break my word.”

So he thought she was scolding him because she doubted him.

Agnes’s shoulders sank, and she replied softly.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you… I just thought you might want to ask me about Overhen. Wouldn’t I know at least something that could help?”

Her tone was gentle, almost hopeful, but Dylan’s response was indifferent.

“Do you have any useful information to offer?”

He didn’t sound dismissive, but neither did he sound interested.

Agnes felt her cheeks grow hot.

Of course, he must already have spies planted in Overhen’s estate, people who knew far more than she ever could.

She had lived like one of Count Overhen’s ornaments, quiet and unnoticed, managing only what little she could, organizing his notes, directing the servants, maintaining the house, entertaining guests.

“…You’re right. You probably already know everything I do.”

“If you recall anything useful, please tell me.”

His voice remained distant, his tone unchanged.

Instead of sighing, Agnes forced a small smile.

Dylan’s crimson lips moved again.

“Soon, you’ll have to meet His Majesty. I’ll give you notice when the time comes, so be prepared.”

“Yes, I’ll be ready.”

She answered immediately, but he still looked worried.

Did he think she wouldn’t be able to handle it?

He didn’t say. Instead, he rose from his seat.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

“Have a good night, Your Grace.”

Only after he left could Agnes release the breath she had been holding.

Even so, her chest felt tight.

‘What more can I do? Would interfering only make things worse?’

She had come here to help however she could, yet the frustration in her heart refused to fade.

* * *

The next day, Dylan was nowhere to be found.

Perhaps he had gone out again.

Stories said vampires feared sunlight, but Dylan seemed unaffected.

Maybe those were just myths after all.

When told that lunch was ready, Agnes made her way to the dining room.

Though she could have eaten in her room, she preferred dining outside whenever possible.

It helped ease her restlessness and allowed her to get to know the household staff.

Walking down the corridor, she often ran into the maids who had followed her from House Everchen, which was always comforting.

The one she was happiest to see was Lizzie, who had served her since childhood.

They were the same age, and Lizzie’s bright personality had always made her easy to talk to.

Now working in the kitchen, Lizzie seemed pleased with her new position. Her nose, dusted with freckles, crinkled as she grinned.

“My lady, we’re having beef for lunch today. Prime cuts, too. His Grace gave the orders himself. He must care about you a great deal.”

Beef, of all things.

He had drunk her blood just yesterday; this must be his way of helping her recover.

After his cold attitude last night, the gesture caught her so off guard she almost laughed.