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Watching the couple playfully exaggerate surrender at the sight of the cross in Henry's hand—only to follow it with mocking laughter—Henry lowered it like a defeated rooster, letting it hang from his chest.
In truth, Henry was acting as well. What occupied his mind was something else entirely:
Do vampires in the Marvel universe experience rejuvenation?
Setting aside animated versions, most portrayals of vampires in film and television followed a common rule—their appearance froze at the moment of transformation. Turned as a child, they remained a child forever. Turned old, they stayed an immortal elder.
Perhaps only the Twilight series portrayed vampires differently—aside from children, all appeared somewhere between young adulthood and middle age, never truly elderly.
But in the Blade trilogy and Underworld, there were clearly vampires who showed signs of aging.
Ignoring casting choices, the existence of elderly vampires—and the concept of "pureblood" vampires in Marvel—suggested that vampires in this world didn't have fixed appearances. They aged… or at least changed.
So how did they achieve rejuvenation? Why didn't vampire elders maintain youthful forms instead of appearing old?
The ecosystem of vampires in this universe was becoming increasingly intriguing.
Maybe I should capture one and study it…
Dangerous Kryptonian thoughts were quietly taking root—while the vampire couple in front of him remained completely unaware.
James Arden spoke confidently, "Mr. Brown, I didn't invite you here today to scold anyone, nor to revisit old matters.
"I simply want to remind you—this world is far more complicated than you think. Do you believe Stark can protect you? Whether it's the elder Stark or the younger one, they can barely protect themselves.
"Or perhaps you think your enviable talents—your bulletproof body of steel—are truly flawless? Can it protect everyone you care about, even when you're not by their side?
"There are countless ways to make people yield. I don't need to threaten your life—or anyone close to you. I only need to nudge them off their normal path, create a little inconvenience.
"Just like what happened to you today. Did Stark help you? Or were you planning to use that bulletproof body of yours to force your way through customs with your little girlfriend?
"Do you understand now? Power—that is true strength. And in front of real power, everything you have is insignificant. I only hope our relationship can be… simpler. More harmonious."
Faced with a threat this blunt, Henry fell silent.
On the surface, he appeared intimidated. But his mind was racing, calculating the best way out.
Charlize's visa cancellation. Katy nearly being detained in quarantine. It was now clear—this couple was behind it.
In a contest of power like this, even a Kryptonian was like fish on a chopping block. The only one who might stand against them was Tony Stark—despite their open disdain for the name.
But why would that arrogant genius help him? Did Henry offer enough value?
Perhaps Henry's performance was too convincing—the couple looked thoroughly satisfied. Or perhaps the long speech had made the vampire thirsty.
With a snap of James Arden's fingers, drinks were brought in.
Three wine glasses.
And a decanter filled with a thick, dark crimson liquid.
Unless his Kryptonian nose had failed him, Henry could swear—it wasn't wine.
It was blood.
The sommelier's hands trembled ever so slightly, his eyes darting nervously. He didn't want to look at what he was pouring—but he had to.
Yet outwardly, he remained professional. Flawless.
The blood wasn't poured into Henry's glass.
The couple drank instead—elegant, refined, as if savoring a vintage wine.
The only break in etiquette was that blood, unlike wine, tended to cling to the lips. Instead of wiping it away, they licked it clean.
Lilith Arden's hazy gaze resembled someone intoxicated—almost high. Henry couldn't help wondering if their "source" had been a drug user.
It was in this state of indulgence that she spoke:
"Child, you are still young. You don't understand—but I won't blame you. When you reach a certain age, you'll realize that the body is the greatest wealth.
"What use are power and money if you're confined to a wheelchair, dependent on others? Watching the young—so full of vitality, with skin as smooth and radiant as an infant's… it's tragic.
"But look at us now. Eternal life. Isn't this the most beautiful arrangement?
"I won't hide it from you—everything has a cost.
"Just like wealth is finite. The more you take, the less others have. Youth is the same. Parents sacrifice their present for their children's future.
"And when you want it back… you can only take it from the young.
"Do you know, child? I was once deeply envious of the girl beside you.
"She was radiant. Glowing. Wrapped in love, she seemed to emit happiness itself. If I could become like her… would you fall in love with me? Would more people love me?
"Heh… have you heard of Countess Elizabeth Báthory? I've always wanted to try bathing in the blood of beautiful women—see if it grants more youth and vitality. Like your girl."
The infamous "Blood Countess"—recognized as one of history's most prolific female serial killers—was not a name to be mentioned lightly.
And yet here she was, speaking of it as casually as idle gossip.
The couple hadn't raised their voices or issued explicit death threats—but every word carried unmistakable menace. Personal. Direct.
Today, it was just administrative interference.
But Henry had no doubt—they could escalate at any time. And they were confident no one could stop them.
Henry forced a strained smile. "Mr. Arden… Mrs. Arden… is this really necessary? Not even giving me the option to refuse?"
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