POV: Haruki
I got into a carriage prepared for me by the royal family. In one week, there will be a celebration for my appointment into the royal court, and it is expected that I return to my home to rest and prepare before moving to the capital.
There are many ways I could get there without wasting half a day. Teleportation through shadow manipulation. Flying with my wings. Turning into a bat, a vulture, or something faster. Dozens of methods, each far more efficient than sitting on upholstered leather while someone else drives. But vampire nobility don't waste their time on efficiency when they can make a point. They will avoid magic if the task can be done by ordering others to do it. It is not about speed, it is about control, about making the world move for them. Why use one's own magic when others could be commanded to serve?
So here I am, seated in a royal carriage heading toward the Thornevald territory, because the message matters more than the convenience.
The carriage is pulled by rare magical creatures, creatures that were almost certainly poached from a distant realm at obscene expense. Their use is excessive, gaudy, and politically calculated. Riding in this carriage is a public statement, though at the moment, I can't bring myself to care. My thoughts were occupied elsewhere, on the nature of vampires themselves.
In some ways, they are like devils. They can turn humans into their own kind by biting them under a full moon, and unlike the devils' Evil Piece system, this ability has no inherent limitation. That makes them far more dangerous to humans. Devils, at least, were bound by the number of Evil Pieces they could produce, dependent on the rare Agares crystals mined only from the island of Agares, which once served as the laboratory of the original Satans. Those crystals do not exist anywhere else, which means there is a hard ceiling to how many reincarnated devils can exist. Vampires, on the other hand, required nothing beyond the moonlight and their own teeth.
Worse, the turned are bound completely to their master's will. If the master dies, the thrall dies with them.
The only reason vampires aren't an overwhelming threat to the human world comes down to two factors. First, while they are strong for their tier, they lack the sheer destructive potential of the highest-ranking devils. No vampire alive today qualifies as ultimate-class. They have weaknesses, several, that make them vulnerable to prepared enemies. Second, they are catastrophically stupid. You would be hard-pressed to find another race so eager to sabotage themselves in ways that defied reason.
Their arrogance is pathological. They wall themselves off from the rest of the world, convinced they are untouchable. They refuse to turn promising outsiders into their own kind because they consider the process beneath them. Those who are turned, thralls, are second-class citizens, little better than tools, like reincarnated devils. The entire society was rigidly stratified, bound in a caste system that stifled advancement.
For me, the greatest inconvenience was their hunger. Vampires must drink blood to survive. Pure-bloods cannot consume anything else, and so their entire economy of sustenance revolves around it. Which means I must do the same, to keep up appearances. It is exactly as unpleasant as it sounds.
Honestly, vampires suck.
"We have arrived, my lord," came a voice from outside the carriage, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I gave a slight nod and stepped down from the carriage, raising my gaze to the Thornevald castle. It was smaller than the royal seat, but its scale was still beyond mortal construction. From the gates to where I stood stretched nearly fifty meters of perfectly kept stone path, flanked by two long lines of household servants.
The air was silent, heavy with the discipline of their ranks. The lowest of them knelt with foreheads pressed to the ground. The mid-tier servants knelt upright, eyes fixed to the floor. The highest-ranking bowed deeply from the waist, careful not to meet my eyes unless addressed. Fear and reverence rolled off them in equal measure.
I walked between them without acknowledgement. My steps were slow, deliberate, the sound of my boots echoing softly against the stone.
At the castle doors stood two women: one with hair like burnished silver, the other with hair like molten gold.
Selvara Thornevald. Vaelith Thornevald. My sisters.
They dipped into flawless bows.
"Welcome, my lord," Selvara murmured, her smile soft but hollow, the kind of expression that came from years of wearing it for survival.
"We are most happy at your safe return, lord brother," Vaelith said, her tone smooth and still.
I inclined my head. The title 'brother' was never used alone, they paired it with 'lord' as instinctively as breathing. Dorian had seen to that.
They pushed the doors open and stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. They fell in behind me, two silent shadows.
"How was your mission, my lord?" Selvara asked lightly.
"It was successful."
"As expected of my lord," she replied quickly.
"When we were informed of the trouble you faced… we feared you might have been harmed," Vaelith added in a low voice.
I stopped just inside the great hall, the sound of their breathing loud in the quiet space.
"You doubt me, Vaelith?" My voice was mild, but there was weight beneath it, precisely the kind Dorian would use.
Her head dipped instantly, golden hair falling to obscure her face. "Never, my lord. I meant only… we would grieve to lose you."
Selvara's silver eyes flicked toward her sister in warning. "Your strength is beyond question. We are merely… relieved that our fears were unfounded."
"Relief is a luxury," I said, moving forward again. "One you should remember is earned, not assumed."
They followed in silence. In their own home, they knew the most dangerous presence here was the man they called brother.
We reached the living room. I sat on the couch, one arm along its back. They remained standing, hands clasped, awaiting permission. They would not even sit unless told. That was Dorian's training.
I let the moment stretch. My gaze moved over them, making no effort to hide the scrutiny. The tension in the room thickened.
"Sit," I said at last.
They bowed in unison before obeying, lowering themselves onto the seats opposite me. Their posture remained perfect; straight-backed, restrained, the posture of courtiers who understood that every movement was being judged.
"Tell me everything that has happened in my absence," I ordered.
They began to speak, each taking turns. I listened without interruption as they detailed the state of our lands, the behavior of our vassals, the movements of neighboring houses. It was largely uneventful. No great political shifts, no major unrest.
When they finished, Selvara hesitated. I caught the flicker of her silver eyes toward Vaelith, who shifted in her seat as though the cushions had grown suddenly uncomfortable.
"Yes?" I prompted.
Selvara lowered her gaze. "There… is one matter, my lord. Minor, yet it concerns your household directly."
I said nothing.
"In your absence, the quartermaster failed to account for a shipment of silk from the southern looms. It was… misplaced during storage. Only a small quantity, my lord, yet–"
"We have already begun corrective measures, my lord," Vaelith interrupted, her voice trembling. "The quartermaster has been reprimanded and the loss will be compensated in full from the merchant's own purse. It will not happen again."
My silence stretched. Vaelith's hands were folded neatly in her lap, but the faint tremor in them was visible. Selvara's breathing remained even, but her shoulders were tight.
"Misplaced," I said softly.
Selvara bowed her head further. "We take full responsibility for not preventing it, my lord."
"Responsibility," I murmured, leaning forward slightly. "An admirable word. I will decide if it has meaning here."
Neither spoke. Dorian would punish them for something less, but I am not him.
"See that it is corrected before the week's end," I said finally. "And ensure the quartermaster understands the consequences of carelessness under my roof."
"Yes, my lord," they said together. Their relief was carefully hidden, but still there.
They were still uneasy.
Then I regarded them.
Honestly, I felt bad for them. That was the truth, though not the sort one could admit aloud without inviting suspicion. They had been born women in a family where affection was a fiction and utility the only currency: viewed as little more than breeding cows, treated as possessions to be guarded, displayed, and broken in as one pleased. Their brother was a twisted individual, the sort of man whose cruelty seemed less like a flaw and more like a vocation, one he pursued with equal relish in body and spirit. He had abused them both sexually and physically. Is it any wonder they are terrified in my presence? It would have been more shocking if they were not terrified in my presence.
How one could be so cruel to one's own blood was beyond me. Disgusting. And yet, among most noble houses, it is not even considered unusual. Just one more unspoken rule in the ugly little game of power.
"I have been given the position of trade and finance minister in the court," I said suddenly. My voice was calm, almost idle, as if this were a matter of no real weight to me.
They looked shocked at that, a jolt of disbelief passing through their faces before it dissolved into something that might have been genuine delight. It was… interesting, seeing that reaction from them.
"It is only right, none deserve it greater than you, my lord," said Vaelith happily, a small spark of pride lighting her features.
"It should have been rightfully yours to begin with," said Selvara, her tone steadier, almost defiant on my behalf.
The position had belonged to House Thornevald for a long time. After Dorian's father died, he had been deemed too young to inherit it, though at one hundred and sixteen he had been merely young by vampire standards, not unready. The insult had stung him deeply. His sisters, though victims in their own right, shared the offense.
It was curious: the brother may be cruel and may have inflicted every imaginable humiliation upon them, but in their own minds, they were his property. He could do as he wished to them and still, above all else, he was family. That kind of loyalty is not admirable, it's simply what happens when the cage becomes home.
"Indeed, it should have been," I said calmly, letting the words settle between us. "And it has been made right again."
They nodded at that, happiness softening their expressions, though I could not tell if it was for me or for the restoration of the family's perceived dignity.
"There will be a royal celebration in a week," I informed them. "Prepare for that. We will be moving to the capital as well."
"We will begin right away," said Vaelith.
"You can count on us," said Selvara, echoing her sister.
I nodded at them. "We are done for today."
"By your leave," they said in unison, bowing before turning to go and prepare.
When the door closed behind them, I stood and began walking.
Being a member of the court meant proximity to the royals. And that, in turn, made my search for the method of dimension separation infinitely easier. But proximity also meant scrutiny. I had to ensure I appeared too occupied or too unpredictable for anyone to waste time looking too closely into my movements.
The simplest way to do that was also the most satisfying: cause as much chaos as possible. Enough that others would be too consumed with fires of their own to wonder what I was doing in the shadows.
Now the question was how to cause the maximum amount of chaos. I had ideas, but they would need refinement.
After a short walk, I arrived at my destination deep in the underground of the castle. The second basement was… peculiar.
It looked nothing like the damp stone and storage rooms one might expect. Instead, it resembled the lavish interior of a noble mansion: grand, gleaming, and almost ostentatious in its polish. The air smelled faintly of expensive incense, the kind that tries a bit too hard to smell effortless.
Several seats were arranged like a private theatre, all facing a single immense aquarium. From the outside, it was perhaps fifty meters tall and just as wide, but magic had expanded the interior into something the size of a small city. Everything inside could be observed from here as easily as one might watch a staged performance.
It was a luxurious prison, a vast aquatic world teeming with exotic sea life, both magical and mundane. It was breathtaking, in a way that made you forget the cruelty of it… if you were inclined to forget.
Then something moved, fast. A blur in the deep.
A mermaid.
She had the upper body of a beautiful human woman, the lower body of a fish. She was fleeing at full speed, pursued by an array of lethal creatures: giant sea serpents, venomous spinefish the size of horses, a colossal razor-mawed eel, even a deepwater centipede with hundreds of snapping legs. Each predator was faster than it had any right to be.
She darted with remarkable speed, but fatigue was taking her. She barely avoided the serpent's lunge, only to collide with a jagged boulder. Her body staggered with the impact, and before she could recover, the beast coiled to strike again.
I disappeared from my seat and reappeared in the water before her.
I raised my index finger at the oncoming monsters. In the next instant, they all exploded in unison, their remains dissolving into nothing.
The mermaid looked at me, eyes wide and full of terror. She recognized me.
I flew upward, breaking the surface, and she followed, hesitant. The pool's opening was about fifty meters across. My clothes were wet, but I ignored it, settling at the edge with my feet still in the water.
A few seconds later, she approached, trembling. She stayed in the water near my legs, her eyes locked on me in a mixture of fear and worship.
I observed her. She was… striking. Light silver-blond hair framed a face of perfect symmetry; her eyes were green, her skin porcelain-white. Her upper body was generously proportioned, her elfish ears delicate. Her tail was a vivid blend of blue and green, scales shimmering with reflected light.
"Please, master… please… forgive me. I will do better next time. Please give me one more chance. I beg you." Her voice shook, breaking into sobs.
I motioned for her to come closer. She obeyed, trembling even harder.
"I-I… will not… sob… fail… again… please… master." She moved toward me as though walking to her own execution.
Still in the water, between my legs, she stopped. I took her face in my hands and looked into her deep green eyes.
"…please," she begged softly.
"Shh," I hushed her. "Nothing will happen to you, Ariel. You are safe."
The name struck her. Her eyes widened in shock, though the fear did not fade.
Dorian had kidnapped her and her family ten years ago. He had forced them into a grotesque contest: kill one another, and the sole survivor would be spared. Terror and madness had done the rest. From twelve members, only she remained.
Dorian had claimed her as his pet. He threw her into this magically sealed pool, filling it with predators to hunt her for his amusement. When injured, she was punished without mercy. When guests visited, she was made to fight, and sometimes to do worse.
That was why she trembled now. She thought this was another game. Another cruelty.
"Thank you, thank you, master, you are so great and merciful…" she began to gush, even though part of her likely believed this was just the prelude to something worse.
She looked at me as one looks at a god, the sort of god one cannot refuse or question.
"Stop," I commanded.
She froze instantly, fear flashing in her eyes. Then came the apologies – rapid, frantic – for a "sin" she had not committed.
I placed a hand over her lips. She went still, likely imagining worse to come.
I studied her again. Ariel was a name Dorian had given her, stripped from a story he found amusing. Her original name had been erased. He used her beauty and exotic nature to charm other nobles, sometimes hosting multiple at once and making her service them. It was transactional, humiliating, and entirely for his gain.
I pitied her.
Kidnapped, tortured, made to kill her own blood, stripped of identity, kept as a sexual slave… My blood boiled at the thought.
"Your trials are over," I told her calmly.
She stared at me, uncomprehending. "My trials… are… over?"
"Yes, my dear Ariel. You have proven yourself worthy." Healing her would have to be gradual; decades of abuse could not be undone in an instant.
"Worthy?" she asked hesitantly. "Does that mean I–"
"Yes. You will no longer be hunted. No more monsters."
Her lips trembled, tears welling. Then she surged forward, out of the water, and embraced me. Her bare skin pressed against me, save for the small scrap of fabric covering her chest.
She wept openly, and I held her awkwardly.
"What will I be doing then? Will I finally become your servant, master?" she asked, unsure, fear still beneath her voice.
I let my hand trail over her tail. The scales were soft beneath my palm, the curve of her hips alluring even without human form. Her cheeks flushed; Dorian had conditioned her to respond to his touch with pleasure.
"Yes. You will become my servant, no longer just a pet," I said.
Her joy was immediate, radiant, the joy of being acknowledged by her tormentor overwhelming her. She kissed my neck, her hands sliding to my pants, touching me.
"Shall I pleasure you, master?" she asked in a voice heavy with seduction.
I caught her wrists and shook my head. I had no interest.
She froze, fear returning. "Have I… done something wrong, master?"
"No, you haven't, my dear. I'm simply not in the mood."
She still looked uneasy, she searched my face. She sees pleasuring me as a reward so me refusing meant that I was mad at her. So I took her face and kissed her gently, letting her submit to me in that small, harmless way. When I was certain she would not spiral into panic again, I left her there.
I went to my chambers to rest.
The walk there was quiet, though my mind was not. Countless humans were enslaved in this world: by vampires, devils, and other creatures with an abundance of power and a shortage of mercy. In the supernatural world, weakness meant you had no rights, no identity beyond what your master allowed. It was the same whether you were human or not.
The Hero Faction's oath flickered through my thoughts: to destroy all beings who posed a threat to humanity. Noble in sentiment, perhaps, but I found myself questioning its completeness. Even if their crusade succeeded, would the absence of such predators guarantee safety for humans? And what of those born outside humanity, creatures neither wholly innocent nor innately malevolent? Should the weak among them be left to the appetites of the strong, dismissed simply because they were not human?
That question has been troubling me for some time. The problem is obvious, most supernatural creatures possess magic, which makes them more dangerous to humans than the average human is to them. Yet some do not abuse it. Some live quietly, even peacefully. The question of what to do with them has been with me for some time. Genocide is no answer. But what is?
I arrived at my chambers and opened the door. I sensed someone inside before I even stepped through.
She was standing there, waiting for me. Tall, white-haired, her skin pale as milk, and eyes mismatched; one green, one blue. An unusual trait among pure-blooded vampires, who most often had crimson eyes. Her dress was deep red, patterned with flowers, cut to flatter the generous curves of her bust.
"Dorian," she said, and made it sound like an invitation.
"Delilah. What a surprise," I replied without even feigning surprise.
She giggled, closed the distance between us, and pressed her chest against me. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her smile slow and sultry.
"A good or a bad one?" she asked, tone melodic.
Most men would stumble over their words under that gaze. I simply removed her hands from my neck.
"How did you enter my chamber?" I asked. Someone should have informed me.
"So cold," she replied, feigning sadness. "Isn't your beloved fiancée allowed into your chamber? Or have you fallen for another woman? Tell me who she is. I will fight her for you… naked." The smile sharpened. "Unless, of course, she is from the royal family. In which case… we can share you. I love them all."
I gave her a flat stare. She was Dorian's fiancée, and as enthusiastic a participant in his hobbies as one could find.
She tilted her head, smiling even more. "Can't you loosen up a bit?" she said with a sigh. "I convinced your sisters not to tell. I wanted it to be a surprise."
By "convinced," she meant she had threatened them. She enjoyed tormenting Dorian's sisters, and Dorian let her.
I stroked her cheek, and she bit her lip in anticipation. Then I moved faster than she could register, my hand clamping around her neck. Her eyes widened. I lifted her easily, letting her legs dangle, her hands clawing at my wrist. She began to choke, her face reddening.
When I let go, she fell to her knees, coughing, gasping for air.
"Delilah," I said, my tone calm and cold. "You are my fiancée, and I love you. But do not ever threaten my sisters again."
Dorian, for all his twisted tendencies, does seem to feel something genuine for her, likely because she is as twisted as he is.
She looked startled, then composed herself. I crossed to the large bed and lay back. She followed, climbing onto me and straddling my hips, a blush blooming on her cheeks.
"Mmm… that was so hot," she murmured, taking my hand and drawing my index finger into her mouth, licking it slowly.
She was still dressed, but the hardening of her nipples was visible through the fabric. Of course she was aroused. I narrowed my eyes at her.
"I know, I know," she said quickly. "I promise I won't threaten your sisters again. I will even apologize to them." Her tone was suddenly serious. She undid the buttons at the back of her dress with practiced ease, letting the fabric fall away to reveal her breasts, nipples pink and taut. "Now then… will you take what is yours?"
Delilah Vauclair. From the duchess's house of the Carmilla faction. Betrothed to Dorian two years ago to ease tensions between factions. Do not be fooled by her arousal, she was one of the cruellest vampires alive, and far from a fool. She had already adapted to my rebuke and was now moving to please me. Also annoyingly perceptive, too perceptive for my liking. I cannot allow her to notice I am not truly Dorian.
I played along.
Her hands pulled at my clothing. When she reached my undertunic, she gripped the silk at my shoulders and tore it down to my navel. Her skin was smooth beneath my touch. Our lips met. Her mouth parted under mine, her breasts filling my hands. Her breasts filled my hands. My thumbs brushed over her nipples until they stiffened further.
"Touch me, my love…" she whispered in my ear.
My hand slid down her belly, finding the heat and wetness beneath.
"Yes, there," she murmured as my fingers slipped inside her. She whimpered, then pushed me down to the bed.
"You got wet because I choked you. What a horny little slut you are," I said, amused.
We fucked like rabbits for hours. She was insatiable.
When it was done, she lay across my chest, her breathing steadying, my hand stroking her shoulder.
"How did you know I had returned?" I asked.
"My love, even the ants in my garden have heard of your return. You are the main topic of the court right now. Succeeding in your mission and becoming a member of the royal court – congratulations, by the way. I know you always wanted that."
The news had spread quickly, too quickly. Most likely her family had informed her, and she had rushed here to attach herself to me and secure her own advantage.
She smiled faintly. "I have always wanted to be part of the court. Those disgusting creatures who call themselves my sisters can finally stop bragging about it." Her voice dripped venom.
Delilah is the third daughter, I reminded myself silently. Her mother, a member of the court, had taken only her elder daughters to the capital, leaving her behind, a slight she had never forgiven.
"Yes. It is… nice," I said. Not for the reason she imagined.
"My love, you know how much I want it. Will you take me with you? As your fiancée, it would not be out of place for me to be there," she said, eyes bright with false innocence.
So that was her true aim.
"And why would I do that?" I asked, my tone faintly amused.
"For the sake of our love. We could spend more time together," she said quickly. "You know how much I want this, darling. Take me with you, I can be useful."
"Why do you want to go there?" I asked, watching her.
"Power and prestige, of course. The capital is where the highest members of our society roam. Wealth, luxury; everything is there. I want to live there, become influential."
How tediously bourgeois. I chuckled.
She shifted to straddle me again, rubbing herself against me. "So what will it take to convince you, my love? I am willing to do anything. Besides, I could please you every day, in every way you wish." She bit my ear gently. "Think about it. You could wake each morning to this sight." She pressed her breasts together for emphasis.
Using sex as a bargaining tool. How clichee.
"You know I would love to have you with me," I said softly. "However, I do not want your mother as an enemy on my first day there. It will have to wait until I am secure in my position."
Her mother has little love for her, especially since Delilah killed her half-sister. That alone made her presence at court dangerous for anyone tied to her.
There was a flicker of anger in her eyes, quickly buried. "Since when are you afraid of anyone, Dorian?" she asked.
"No more 'my darling,' or 'love'?" I teased, but she gave no reaction.
"I am not afraid of your mother, my dear. Merely cautious. This is not forever. I simply need to secure my place before alienating powerful people," I said. "You may visit as often as is expected of my fiancée."
"Which isn't that often at all," she said bitterly. She hesitated, then looked at me almost vulnerably. "You won't replace me with another bitch there, right?"
"Are you asking me to be celibate?" I asked, amused.
"No… but you won't annul our betrothal, right?" she pressed.
"No. If I take another, it will be in addition to you, not in your place," I said calmly.
"Harem politics" were an accepted concept among vampires, as with devils.
"I suppose that is the best I can get," she said, leaning down to kiss me.
She left only after another long, heated session.
AN: A new chapter! This one leans more into worldbuilding, giving a closer look at vampire society. Haruki chose to treat Dorian's sister with something resembling decency, certainly more than the original Dorian ever did. Of course, in a world where possession and illusion are very real, such a sudden change in personality is absolutely not suspicious at all.
I also made the original Dorian a fairly terrible person on purpose. Think of it as a moral test for Haruki: how far will he go to keep playing the role, and at what point does his own conscience break through the mask? The internal conflict should make for some interesting tension down the line.