Chapter 11
2321words
My novel "My Date with the Ghost" became a hit, an absolute sensation. Those royalty notices falling like snowflakes and the constantly growing numbers in my bank account made me truly experience, for the first time, the immense joy of being a commercial novelist. I finally escaped my financial difficulties, and even luxuriously replaced all the ancient kitchen equipment in the manor with the newest smart kitchen appliances, which provoked Silas into days of mockery about "the pathetic aesthetics of modern alchemists."
But I don't care. I'm immersed in an enormous sense of satisfaction, and the happiest thing every day is sipping red tea while watching readers in the comment section arguing intensely over whether "Mr. S" or "Mr. F" is more suitable for the female protagonist. I cleverly processed Silas's "exclusive revelations" about vampire history and incorporated them into my novel's setting. For instance, "Mr. S's" obsession with blood purity, the absolute territorial control desired by his ancient family, and those ancient rituals of power inheritance known only to pure-blooded nobility. The authenticity of these details made my novel stand out among similar works, praised by readers as "a masterpiece with epic-level background settings."
I naively thought this was my ideal life—outsmarting non-human beings in reality, then transforming these experiences into stories adored online. I was completely unaware that the readers of my stories were not limited to humans.
In the dark corners of the world, in those ruins forgotten by modern civilization, a group of wandering "mongrels" excluded from the mainstream vampire society have also seen my novel through the "magic box" of the internet. For them, this is not an entertainment work, but an extremely precise map, a treasure map leading to supreme power.
Those authentic details about the "pure-blood nobility" in the novel, like a bright lamp in the dark night, attract these moths who thirst for power and protection. The name "Thornhill Manor" became a sacred place passed down in their mouths. An ancient, powerful, pure-blooded Delacour noble is either sleeping or weakly occupying this place. This is a once-in-a-millennium opportunity, an excellent chance for them to escape their wandering fate and gain tremendous power.
And I, the "female protagonist" depicted in the novel as having an ambiguous relationship with the pure-blood nobility, naturally became the... key to this treasure.
I knew nothing about all this at the time. Until that night of pouring rain.
The rain fell especially heavily that night, with thunder like war drums beating densely above the estate. The fierce wind carrying rainwater was like countless cold hands, frantically beating against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the study. I was wearing headphones, immersed in my creative world, completely unaware of the outside fury. The fire blazed in the fireplace, and Silas, unusually not staying in his underground wine cellar, was reclining on a velvet sofa beside the fireplace, quietly browsing through an ancient parchment tome. The warm firelight cast flickering shadows on his pale, handsome face, making him look less like a vampire and more like a classical sculpture immersed in his own world.
It was a strange yet harmonious tranquility. I even thought that perhaps this kind of "cohabitation" life wasn't so bad.
Just then, a violent, extraordinary crash came from the downstairs hall, a sound as if someone had broken open the manor's front door with a battering ram, even causing the floor beneath my feet to shake.
I abruptly removed my headphones and raised my head at the same time as Silas, exchanging a startled look. His crimson eyes narrowed instantly, the lazy expression vanishing, replaced by the cold vigilance of a top predator.
"Stay here, don't move." His voice was very low, devoid of any emotion. He casually placed the ancient tome in his hand on the table, stood up without making a sound, and like a black shadow, instantly melted into the darkness of the corridor.
How could I possibly remain seated? Fear and curiosity, like two hands, gripped my heart tightly. I grabbed the century-old diary from my desk—which had almost become my talisman now—clutched it firmly to my chest, then carefully followed him out, hiding at the second-floor staircase corner, looking down at the entrance hall.
With just one glance, all the blood in my body nearly froze.
The manor's heavy oak door had been violently smashed open, its hinges broken, hanging askew from the doorframe. Cold rainwater poured in, soaking the polished marble floor. At the doorway stood three figures. They all wore tattered black coats with their hoods pulled low, concealing their faces. But the aura they emitted was both intensely familiar and utterly alien to me.
That was also a vampire's aura, cold and tinged with the scent of blood, but completely different from Silas's classical, proud presence. These three uninvited guests' auras were filled with primitive, undisguised greed and malice, like a pack of long-starved wild dogs—dirty, chaotic, and deadly.
Only at this moment did I belatedly realize how... friendly and gentle Silas's treatment of me had been. Though he was arrogant, domineering, and possessive, he had never truly looked at me with that pure, undisguised malice. He was more like a curious master toying with his possession, rather than a wild beast ready to pounce and tear apart its prey at any moment.
"Where is the pure-blooded noble?" the lead vampire spoke up, his voice as raspy as sandpaper rubbing, "We smell his scent, and we also smell the scent of his human 'pet'. Hand her over, and we might consider letting you die a little quicker."
His gaze, like a serpent's tongue, swept directly toward my hiding place. I was so frightened my heart stopped beating, and I instinctively stepped back, causing the wooden floor beneath my feet to emit a faint "creak."
"Found her." Another vampire let out a nauseating, greed-filled laugh, his figure instantly transforming into a blurred shadow rushing toward the stairs.
My mind went blank, overwhelmed by tremendous fear. All I could do was clutch Julian's diary in my arms with all my strength, as if it were the only barrier that could separate me from death.
Just as the vampire was about to rush up the stairs, those hands glowing with greedy green light about to grab me in the final second, a shadow faster and darker than him blocked my way like a specter.
It was Silas.
He stood with his back to me, completely shielding me behind him. I couldn't see his expression, but I could feel the unprecedented, almost tangible rage emanating from him. It was a kind of indisputable fury belonging to a monarch whose territory had been invaded and whose property had been coveted. The temperature of the entire hall seemed to drop to freezing point in that instant.
"Mongrel," Silas's voice was cold enough to freeze souls, each word carrying a sharp killing intent, "who gave you permission to look at what belongs to me with those filthy eyes?"
Before his words were finished, he moved. I couldn't even see his movement clearly, only a black afterimage flashing by. The vampire who had rushed up the stairs couldn't even let out a scream before his body, like a rag doll hit by an immense force, flew backwards, crashing heavily against the distant wall with a bone-cracking sound that made one's teeth ache, then slid to the ground like a puddle of mud, showing no further movement.
Silas, for the first time in front of me, displayed his unmasked cruelty and power belonging to a top predator. He was no longer that languid nobleman who would discuss poetry with me; he was an elegant yet lethal killing machine.
The remaining two vampires were intimidated by this thunderous strike, but soon, their bloodthirsty nature overwhelmed their fear. They exchanged a glance, simultaneously let out a roar, and attacked Silas from two directions.
The battle erupted instantly. It was no longer a fight that humans could comprehend, but rather three blurred shadows colliding at high speed in the spacious hall. Each collision was accompanied by piercing sounds of air being cut and dull impact noises. Furniture shattered into pieces in the aftermath of their fierce combat, and the walls were left with hideous claw marks.
I hugged the diary, crouching in the corner of the staircase, my whole body trembling like a leaf in the wind. I watched as Silas fought to protect me, watched as he tore through the enemy's defenses in the most direct and brutal way, and a complex emotion I had never felt before surged within my heart.
But soon, I realized something was wrong. Silas's movements began to slow down. Though each of his attacks remained lethal, the power behind them was clearly insufficient. Sustained only by animal blood, he simply couldn't support such high-intensity combat. He was too weak.
One of the vampires caught his opening, sharp claws viciously tore across his arm, leaving a wound so deep the bone was visible. Black blood splattered as Silas let out a suppressed groan, his body staggering.
"He's out of power!" another vampire shouted excitedly, "Grab that woman! Use her to threaten him!"
Their target instantly shifted to me. One of them held Silas back, while the other approached me step by step with a sinister grin. Silas tried to stop them but was firmly entangled, the rage and anxiety in his eyes about to erupt.
I was cornered with nowhere to retreat. Never had death's shadow loomed so clearly over me. I closed my eyes in despair, pressing that diary firmly against my chest.
Just then, a massive wolf howl filled with absolute authority and primal power cut through the clamor of the downpour, rolling in from the depths of the forest beyond the estate. The intimidating power contained in that sound was so overwhelming that the two vampires who were about to attack me instantly froze, their faces revealing an instinctive fear of a natural predator.
They looked uncertainly toward the pitch-black forest outside the window, seemingly unable to comprehend why a "guardian" of this caliber would appear here. But survival instinct overrode everything else. They no longer wished to continue the fight, only casting venomous glares at Silas and me before transforming into two dark shadows and hastily fleeing through the shattered door, disappearing into the torrential rain.
I could feel it—after that wolf's howl, a gentle and familiar gaze was being cast from deep within the forest. Those amber-colored eyes were like two warm lamps, expressing silent protection to me in the darkness. It was Finn.
The crisis was temporarily averted. I slid down along the wall and sat on the ground, completely drained of strength. Silas didn't pursue; he stood in place, his chest heaving violently, the wound on his arm still seeping black blood.
After the battle ended, the first thing he did was not to treat his own wounds, but to walk straight toward me. He crouched down, looking at me from above, those crimson eyes still burning with unabated fury.
He reached out his hand and, with his cold, slender fingers—somewhat roughly yet with an undisguisable tremor—wiped away the speck of blood that had splashed onto my cheek earlier.
"You are never allowed to put yourself in danger again for anything - dead or alive!" he growled at me, his voice filled with undeniable possessiveness, powerful and domineering, yet somehow making me feel strangely reassured.
After saying these words, his body could no longer support itself, weakly swayed once, and collapsed toward me.
I instinctively caught him. His body was ice-cold and heavy, like a marble statue about to shatter. I looked at his pale face and the grotesque wound on his arm, seeing how he had exhausted all his strength to protect me. All those legends about vampires being greedy and bloodthirsty seemed so distant and unimportant at this moment.
A crazy idea rose in my mind and quickly took over everything.
Without hesitation, holding him, I used my fingernail to viciously cut a gash across the artery in my neck. Blood immediately gushed out, carrying the warmth of life.
I moved my neck close to his cold lips and said in an almost commanding, trembling voice: "Drink it. This is your payment for protecting me."
The moment the warm fresh blood touched his lips, his weakened body shuddered violently. The most primal instinct of a vampire was instantly triggered. His dim red eyes lit up again, filled with a thirst for blood. He abruptly raised his head, grabbed me tightly, and buried his face in the crook of my neck. Those sharp fangs pierced my wound without hesitation.
A sharp pain shot through me, followed by a strange dizziness as my life force was rapidly drained. I could feel him greedily sucking my blood, his movements filled with an instinctive, irresistible power.
Is this death? To become his servant, eternally enslaved by him?
However, just as I was about to lose consciousness, his greedy sucking suddenly stopped. He raised his head, and in those crimson eyes, an intense struggle like a battle between heaven and man was taking place. The bloodthirsty instinct was fiercely fighting against some deeper, more complex emotion. His body trembled violently from forceful restraint, and finally, he released his fangs, merely covering my wound gently, almost tenderly with his lips. A cold breath with healing power passed from his lips to mine, stopping the bleeding from my wound.
I leaned in his embrace, my consciousness already beginning to blur. Before completely falling into darkness, I heard him press against my ear, with a hoarse voice exhausted to the extreme, making the gentlest promise.
"Rest, woman, you need not become my servant."
