I made my way to the breakfast room in the early hours of the morning. Annabel had already left my chambers before me. It seemed she still hadn't shed her shy demeanor. Accompanied by the cool breeze drifting through the corridor windows, I reached the door of the dining room. When I stepped inside, everyone was already there.
Now that I think about it, when I first arrived in this world, the only ones seated at my table were a sullen Annabel and my bastard son, Lucareth. But now, Annabel and her son, along with the others, were sitting around the table, chatting with relative cheer. Meanwhile, Willabelle and her son had started dining with us, as they were staying at my estate, and she had no reason to refuse my invitation.
Oddly enough, Willabelle's son, Magnus, and my bastard son, Lucareth, who were close in age, hadn't become friends. I wondered if it was because they were enemies in the original story, but that seemed illogical. They hadn't become enemies in this world. This detail was significant because I still didn't know whether the original story, even if it wasn't this world's unchangeable fate, still held some influence over it.
To be fair, both boys were rather reserved and clung to their mothers. Perhaps that's why the right environment for them to bond hadn't formed.
"Good morning, my Lord."
The first greeting came from Willabelle, followed by the others.
Annabel, with a faint smile and a flush on her cheeks, said, "Good morning, my Lord."
Strangely, Rebecca merely muttered, "Good morning," without looking at me.
After giving a brief nod to those at the table, I took my seat. One of the servants, knowing my preferences, had already prepared my coffee and placed it before me as I sat. Everything was refined and in its proper place, but Rebecca's silence created a void colder than the crystal decanter on the table.
Her curt "Good morning" and avoidance of my gaze began to occupy my thoughts. It was unlike her. Normally, she greeted me with a teasing yet warm smile, never resting until she knew how my day would unfold. But now… now she had turned her face to her plate. Her eyes seemed fixed on the edge of an apricot pastry. What was it about that pastry that held her attention so fiercely?
Annabel's blush still hadn't faded. She was likely still under the influence of last night. The private moments we shared last night and this morning had crossed a significant boundary in her small world. She might still be grappling with these new emotions. The innocent shyness radiating from her at the table was both sweet and unexpectedly heartwarming.
"I hope you slept well, my Lord," Willabelle said, delicately sipping her coffee.
"Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep very well. I had some important matters to attend to last night," I replied, winking subtly at Annabel, causing her entire face to flush.
But the moment those words left my mouth, something caught in Rebecca's throat. She coughed harshly. The sudden choking sound startled everyone at the table. A servant quickly offered her a glass of water, but before taking it, Rebecca fixed her eyes on me. It was a brief but piercing look, as if I had committed some crime.
"Are you alright, sister?"
For a few seconds, Rebecca just stared at me. It was as if she were searching my face, my words, and the mask of sincerity I wore for some hidden darkness. She didn't even try to conceal the anger burning in her eyes before composing herself. Then she turned away, took the glass, and after a small sip, responded in a slightly hoarse voice:
"I'm fine. Nothing's wrong."
It was as if she were grinding her teeth even as she said, "Nothing's wrong." Rebecca wasn't one to flinch easily. Neither physical pain nor the judgment of others fazed her. But now, as she looked at me, every ounce of fragility in her eyes seemed to scream a single word: *Why?*
At that moment, my steward approached me with measured steps. He held a letter in his hand, his face bearing a serious expression as he extended it to me.
"My Lord, I apologize for interrupting your breakfast, but a letter bearing the seal of Hand of the Throne has just arrived. I brought it to you immediately."
The steward's voice cut through the tension at the table like a knife. For a moment, Rebecca's eyes shifted from me to the letter in the steward's hand. Everyone's attention followed suit; the seal of Hand of the Throne demanded nothing less than full respect.
Hand of the Throne was a unit of the empire's most elite warriors, sworn to the Emperor. Throughout history, their numbers had never exceeded twenty, yet it was said that even one of them could single-handedly conquer a fortress. Though loyal to the Emperor, during peacetime, they maintained order across the empire. Wherever they went, anyone with a shred of sense treated them with reverence.
I couldn't help but swallow hard. What business could such an elite unit have with me? Had they somehow discovered that I was the heir to a demon god? Impossible. I hadn't even awakened my abilities yet… though I did have a passive ability. Still, no one else could detect it.
But if they had somehow found out, my end was near. Perhaps if I fled now, I could survive, but how could I leave those at this table behind? Rebecca, as the duke's daughter with immense potential, might survive, but the others? I needed to stay calm.
'Just open the letter, you fool.'
I took the letter from the steward's hand. As my fingers brushed the wax seal, something stirred within me. An odd, familiar sensation as if the seal wasn't just a symbol but the eyes of an enemy. Without a word, I broke the seal. My fingers, steadier than I expected, unfolded the letter. Perhaps I knew it was too early to fear. Or perhaps there was no room left for fear.
The paper inside was fine parchment, its edges adorned with gold leaf, the text written in deep blue ink with meticulous handwriting. The first line stopped my heart for a moment:
**"To Count Leonardo Argenholt,**
**May the High Empire's greetings be upon you.**
Reports of vampiric activity in the vicinity of Argenholt have reached us. It has been brought to our attention that individuals have gone missing near the abandoned mining settlement of 'Hollow Ridge' southwest of your city, and that some bodies found in the area have been drained of blood.
Such an event threatens the peace and sacred integrity of the High Empire. This matter may be more than a mere local issue, potentially signaling the stirrings of a darker awakening.
Should Your Lordship deem it appropriate, Sir Emeric Vale, acting on behalf of the Hand of the Throne, will redirect his course to Argenholt to investigate this matter in person. Naturally, this endeavor will proceed with your consent and hospitality.
**Sir Emeric**, appointed with the sacred insignia by the Dynastic Court, acts as a fully authorized 'Hand.' Should you find this acceptable, a response sent via messenger prior to his arrival will suffice.
May the shadow of the High Emperor be upon you.
**On behalf of the Imperial Bureau of Internal Security,**
**Lord Secretary Cailen Morr."**
After reading the letter, I stared at the parchment for a few seconds. Even though the text had ended, my eyes searched for something more. Perhaps a hint, a hidden threat, or some meaning tucked between the lines.
But no. This was about the vampire issue I was already aware of. I let out a loud "Ohh..." a sigh of relief akin to stepping into the cool air of a market after burning under the summer sun.
Rebecca, noticing I'd finished reading, asked softly, "What does it say?"
Her voice was still hoarse, but now there was a cautious curiosity in her tone. I summarized the letter's contents loudly enough for everyone at the table to hear. A ripple passed over their faces. Annabel's eyes widened slightly, while Willabelle set her coffee down and glanced at my face.
"So, we're having a guest?" Rebecca asked.
"No, I'm going to decline the offer."
The air at the table shifted instantly. It wasn't just tension now; a kind of silence echoed among the plates and cups.
Rebecca frowned. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely."
Willabelle leaned forward slightly. "But… rejecting an offer from Hand of the Throne… isn't that a risk?"
"Of course it's a risk," I said, stirring my coffee. "But if I let them come, this stops being my problem. A chance for glory has landed in my lap, and I'm supposed to hand it over to someone else? Besides, If I can't even handle an issue in my own city, won't everyone think I'm a weak, incompetent lord?"
Besides, if a Hand of the Throne knight stayed at my estate, they might discover my divine demon technique. Even though that seemed impossible for now, it wasn't worth risking for a vampire matter. With Rebecca here, the worst-case scenario would be losing a few soldiers.
Moreover, I'd recently begun to sense the first ability of my technique. Strangely, I'd adapted to it quickly. Perhaps because it was a divine technique or because my character was naturally suited to it, I didn't know. But with a Hand of the Throne knight here, I wouldn't dare train even in my own cellar.
In short, I had to resolve this vampire issue myself and immediately.