How could one describe this feeling? It was a dual satisfaction—both physical and emotional. As Aino swallowed the blood essence, she felt as if her entire being was ascending.

Yet, she would never allow herself to follow in Tananorn’s footsteps, devouring the flesh of the strong and descending into a path of destruction. To die as a scourge of the world, hunted and slain—that was not her destiny.

Aino wanted to live long and witness many things, to experience life slowly and fully.

“Oh, so that magic was for transferring the mark?” Aino mused as she sensed the trembling mark within her body.

As the progenitor blood essence was “digested,” the mark, no longer sustained by its source, began to dissipate.

After a moment’s thought, Aino used her magic to forcibly preserve the mark within her body.

No particular reason—she simply wanted to see what might come of it, treating it as a source of entertainment.

She turned to the cloaked vampire beside her. His earlier joy had vanished, replaced by discomfort and fear. Feeling her gaze, he slowly lifted his head.

For the first time, Aino saw his face.

It was a classic vampire visage—handsome yet deathly pale, the kind that immediately evoked thoughts of the undead. However, his haggard appearance betrayed the hardships he had endured. In his eyes lingered a mix of resignation and despair.

It reminded Aino once more of the monochrome profile pictures favored by melancholic internet personalities.

The mark, used by vampires to track the bearer of the blood essence, had been transferred to Aino. This man had clearly hoped to pass his burden onto someone else and flee. No wonder he looked so terrified now.

But Aino was in a great mood and had no intention of holding a grudge. She decided to consider it part of their transaction—she had gained a rare delicacy, and in return, she’d been used and manipulated.

In an instant, Aino vanished from sight.

Fernando de Cula stood frozen for several seconds before exhaling deeply, relieved to have escaped with his life.

After straightening his disheveled cloak, Fernando quickly left, heading for the city gates. Grantham was no longer a safe place for him.

Though the entire episode had lasted only a few minutes, it had been eventful.

For Aino, however, it was merely a minor detour in her otherwise uneventful life. People and situations like this—brief encounters, sudden partings—were nothing unusual to her.

Returning to the marketplace where she had first encountered the vampire, Aino resumed her journey, now carrying the digested blood essence and the mark she had chosen to keep.

What seemed inconsequential to Aino would soon ripple outwards, causing significant consequences for others.

A few days later, in a house not far from Grantham, the atmosphere was tense.

Two elegantly dressed high-ranking vampires knelt before a nobleman, their heads bowed low, too frightened to speak.

The nobleman stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his beautiful but unnaturally pale face expressionless. His words, however, were sharp and unforgiving.

“Two useless fools. After all this time, you’ve achieved nothing, allowing Fernando de Cula to transfer the blood essence.”

The two vampires, typically fearsome figures in their own right, didn’t dare refute him. They only lowered their heads further in shame.

The nobleman extended a slender hand, summoning a bottle into existence. The liquid inside was identical to the essence Aino had consumed—vivid, pure red, exuding an even more potent aura.

As soon as the bottle appeared, the two vampires couldn’t help but glance up, their eyes drawn to it instinctively. Even the nobleman himself stared at the bottle with barely concealed greed.

After a long moment, he waved his hand, making the bottle vanish again. His mood seemed to sour further.

“Hmph. I entrusted you with the simplest task, and now that I’ve collected all the blood essence, I have to clean up your mess as well.”

The two vampires remained silent, knowing they had no excuse for their failure.

“Not talking, huh? Valentine, why don’t you tell me what we should do now?”

The male vampire trembled at being addressed and slowly rose to his feet.
“Lord Albert, I deeply apologize for our failure… But considering the situation, the being who instantly refined the progenitor blood essence may be beyond our abilities. Our only option might be to seek aid from the Duke...”

“You want me to share responsibility for your incompetence?” Albert interrupted coldly, his tone dripping with disdain.

“I’m sorry, but…” Valentine began again, only to be cut off.

“Enough, Valentine. Even if someone could refine the blood essence so quickly, they wouldn’t easily take it from my grasp.”

Albert’s beautiful face twisted into a near-manic grin, shattering his previously noble demeanor.

Albert, a notorious butcher among vampires, was infamous for his love of slaughter, finding amusement in crushing lives like mere playthings.

Taking a few steps forward, he gazed out the window, momentarily resuming his facade as a refined nobleman surveying the world.

Every movement of his seemed to teeter between elegance and madness, as though two entirely different people resided within him.

“While they’ve refined the blood essence, the fact that the mark remains means their grasp of magic is crude. Their ability to refine it must be due to a unique physique.”

“This isn’t a dead end. Only those brave enough to push their limits can savor the thrill of victory. You two fools can either return to report to the Duke or stay and continue dragging me down.”

The words “the Duke” dripped with disdain, spoken with exaggerated slowness, as though Albert held his superior in contempt.

The two vampires hesitated at his declaration.

After a brief silence, the female vampire spoke in a calm, resolute voice.
“We have served you for over a century, Lord Albert. Naturally, we will stand with you.”

Her words also represented Valentine’s stance. He hesitated momentarily before nodding and kneeling beside her.

Thus, the infamous trio was set: Albert, the vampire butcher, and his two lackeys, Livia and Valentine.

For years, they had pursued Fernando de Cula. Now, their sights were set on a new target.

Aino, who had intentionally kept the mark, remained blissfully unaware of—or indifferent to—the brewing storm. To her, it was just another source of amusement.

At that moment, she had already entered the Peruvian Great Forest, relying on her memory and magical senses to locate Zola.

“The trees ahead are growing ominous, and there’s a mist settling in…” Aino murmured thoughtfully, recalling past experiences.

Despite the eerie surroundings, she smiled and quickened her pace, stepping boldly into the foggy forest.

Much stronger now and far more adept at using her magic, Aino found the once-mysterious forest far less daunting. It didn’t take long for her to detect Zola’s presence.

As she approached, a particularly massive tree in the forest seemed to come alive, its crown and surrounding soil trembling. Branches extended and twisted, concealing and reshaping until a figure emerged.

A tall, green-haired girl with lifeless black eyes stepped forward, her jade-like face exuding an unsettling aura of artificiality.

A perfect imitation of humanity, yet undeniably a monster.

And yet, there was a rare flicker of emotion in her dark eyes as she stood face-to-face with Aino.

Mimicking the human etiquette Aino had once taught her during their first meeting, Zola extended a hand.

“Long time no see. Shall we shake hands, Aino?”