My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines

Elara and Lyssa lowered their heads in unison, a gesture of submission far deeper than any they had made before.

"Yes, sir," they murmured together, their voices hoarse.

Even in that state... there was still elegance.

The two then bowed slightly before Victor, a gesture deeper than any they had made before.

"Thank you, sir... for your generosity," said Lyssa, her voice lower now, but firm.

Elara nodded beside her, adding in an equally controlled tone:

"It was... an honor to serve you."

Victor, now more relaxed, merely observed for a second, with that slight, corner-of-the-mouth smile that seemed to appear whenever something amused him more than it should.

The two then resumed a more functional posture.

"Before we go, your clothes, they were left in the closet, to the left of the bed," informed Elara, making a small gesture with her hand in the indicated direction. "The appropriate clothes for the meeting with Mrs. Rakshasa."

Lyssa continued: "Our intention was to assist you in dressing, sir... to ensure that everything was... suitable."

There was a brief pause.

The two exchanged a quick glance—discreet, but meaningful.

"...But," Lyssa continued, now with a slight trace of controlled embarrassment, "considering our current situation, perhaps we are not the most suitable at this moment."

Elara completed, maintaining a professional tone: "If you wish, we can call other maids to assist you immediately."

Victor looked at the two.

Then at the wardrobe.

And then let out a small chuckle.

"No need," he replied naturally. "I know how to dress myself. Everything is fine, girls, you were amazing." He smiled.

The two seemed... slightly surprised by the response, but nodded almost immediately.

"As you wish, sir." Elara tilted her head once more. "If you need anything, we’ll be available in a few minutes, we’re just going to shower and change."

Lyssa repeated the gesture, in perfect synchronicity. "We wish you good preparation for the date."

Victor simply raised his hand slightly in a casual farewell gesture. "Okay. See you later."

Without another word, the two turned and walked towards the door, their steps soft and controlled, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The door opened and closed.

The room returned to silence.

Victor was alone again.

He let out a light sigh, running a hand through his still slightly damp hair before looking towards the closet.

"...Special clothes, huh." A small smile appeared on his face. "It only gets better."

Victor remained silent for a few seconds after the door closed, just staring at the empty space as if still expecting some other surprise to emerge from there. But nothing came.

Only silence. He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his still slightly damp hair, ruffling a few strands before finally turning in the indicated direction.

The wardrobe.

"...Let’s see what you’ve prepared for me..." he murmured, walking unhurriedly.

He opened the wooden doors with a simple movement.

And stopped.

For a second... he really stopped.

"...Okay," he chuckled softly through his nose. "This is on another level."

Inside, carefully arranged, was a set of clothes that clearly didn’t belong to the common style he was used to seeing on that side of the continent. The fabric was dark, predominantly black, with a subtle sheen under the room’s light, as if it had been made to reflect just enough to draw attention without losing its sobriety.

But what really caught the eye... were the details.

Dragons.

Deep red embroidery snaked across the fabric in elegant yet aggressive shapes, as if alive, ready to move at any moment. The lines were fine, precise, each scale crafted with almost absurd care.

Victor tilted his head slightly, analyzing.

"...So this is the ’appropriate’ one for her..." he murmured, carefully pulling the garment.

It was a long, traditionally structured dress, with inner layers and a sash that clearly needed to be fitted to the body.

He didn’t hesitate.

He began to dress.

Without haste, but without difficulty.

Each piece fit surprisingly naturally, as if it had been tailor-made—which, considering everything so far... it probably was.

When he finished adjusting the sash at his waist, he slowly exhaled and walked to the mirror.

And then... he saw himself.

Silence.

For a longer moment this time.

The reflection showed someone completely different from what he remembered... and at the same time, exactly who he had always wanted to be.

The clothes fell perfectly on his body, highlighting his broad shoulders, defined chest, and firm waist. The red embroidery contrasted with the black in an almost aggressive way, giving him an... imposing presence.

Elegant.

Dangerous.

Victor tilted his head slightly, analyzing his own image as if he were evaluating another person.

"...Not bad," he murmured.

But then—

Something flashed through his mind.

Quickly.

A memory.

An old reflection.

A weak body.

Too thin.

Skin and bones.

Tired eyes, always trapped between four walls, always looking at the world from afar, never truly touching it.

He was silent for a second.

Enough.

Then he let out a small laugh.

"...What a ridiculous difference."

He brought his hand to his own arm, squeezing lightly, feeling the firmness there, the body’s response, the strength that before simply... didn’t exist.

Now it existed.

And it was his.

Victor looked up at the mirror again, the smile returning, more confident this time.

More real.

"...Much better."

He adjusted his collar slightly, just out of habit, even though he didn’t need to.

And then he turned his back.

"Right..." he murmured, already walking towards the door.

His expression changed.

It became more focused.

More interested.

"...Time to meet this Rakshasa."

Victor didn’t open the door immediately.

His hand hovered on the doorknob for a second longer than necessary, not out of hesitation... but out of calculation. He tilted his head slightly, as if he were listening to something beyond the silence of the corridor.

Nothing.

Or at least... nothing obvious.

"Hmm..." he murmured softly, before finally turning the doorknob and opening the door.

The corridor outside was silent, illuminated by the same soft, controlled light that seemed to exist throughout the castle. No sound of footsteps, no evident presence.

Victor took a step outside.

Then another.

And he turned left—

"...Damn it."

He stopped immediately.

The butler was already there.

Momentary.

Impeccable posture.

As if he had been waiting at that exact spot for a long time.

Victor stared at him for a second, his expression completely neutral... before letting out a small, irritated sigh.

"You look like a ghost," he commented, running a hand through his hair as if it were too minor an inconvenience to be taken seriously.

The butler wasn’t offended.

In fact... a slight trace of satisfaction appeared in his expression.

"I’m pleased to know that my concealment techniques have reached such a level," he replied with absolute naturalness, as if it were a technical compliment.

Victor narrowed his eyes slightly.

"...You say that as if it were normal."

"To me, it is."

"Of course it is," Victor murmured, already starting to walk without waiting for an invitation.

The butler immediately followed, adjusting his pace to stay slightly ahead, guiding the way.

"I’m ready," Victor said directly, without beating around the bush. "We can go."

The butler cast a quick glance over him.

An assessing glance.

From head to toe.

The clothes.

The fit.

The details.

He nodded once.

"It’s appropriate," he said simply. "The lady awaits you."

Victor let out a small "hm" of confirmation, his hands now inside the wide sleeves of his garment as he walked with a carefree, yet attentive air.

The corridors stretched like a silent labyrinth, each turn revealing more of the excessively refined architecture of that place. There was a pattern there—everything seemed calculated to impress, but without ever appearing chaotic.

It was... controlled.

Dangerously controlled.

As they walked, Victor began to observe more closely. Not just the structure.

But the atmosphere.

The feeling.

And then—

He passed through a side opening.

A partially open door.

And something... caught his attention.

Victor slowed his pace slightly, turning his head just enough to glance at it.

The library.

He didn’t go in.

But he didn’t need to.

Even from the entrance, he could see endless rows of shelves, old books, some clearly older than anything he had ever seen before. The space seemed to extend beyond what was possible for that type of building.

But it wasn’t just that.

He felt it.

Energy.

Dense.

Heavy.

As if the very air inside carried history... and danger.

Victor paused for half a second.

Just half.

"...There’s something interesting in there," he commented casually, but with a slight hint of genuine curiosity.

The butler, without stopping completely, let out a small, low laugh.

"Quite a lot," he replied. "You have a... peculiar taste in collections."

Victor was still glancing sideways.

"...You can feel it," he murmured.

Something there... was pulling.

Not aggressively.

But present.

Like a silent invitation.

He looked away.

"I’ll look at that later," he said, more to himself than to the butler.

And he resumed his normal pace.

The two continued forward, passing through more corridors, more doors, more spaces that seemed too important to be mere decoration.

Until—

They stopped.

In front of a door.

No.

The door.

It was enormous.

Taller than any other he had seen so far inside the castle. The dark wood was reinforced with discreet metallic details, and there was a presence there that didn’t just come from the size.

It was... intention.

Victor looked up, analyzing.

Then he looked forward again.

Silent.

The butler took a step forward.

And then he spoke, in his usual calm tone:

"You are inside."

Without ceremony.

Without elaborate introduction.

Just... fact.

Victor let out a small sigh through his nose, a slight smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"...Finally."