My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines

"It means I’m almost falling in love with those eyes," he said bluntly. "Seriously, what a charming woman~"

As soon as the words left Victor’s lips, the atmosphere seemed to react almost imperceptibly, as if the room itself had paused for a moment to observe the audacity of that comment.

Rakshasa didn’t respond immediately; instead, her fingers continued to move elegantly over the utensils, cutting a small portion of the dark fish in front of her, as if she were more interested in the texture of the flesh than the weight of the provocation.

Still, a smile appeared at the corner of her lips and her eyes, those eyes with a deep red glint, turned to him with renewed interest.

"Curious...," she murmured, tilting her head slightly as she brought the food to her mouth, savoring it with an almost irritating calm. "It seems that, in the end... it’s me who’s being evaluated here, not you."

Victor didn’t rush to reply.

He observed her movements, the way each gesture was deliberate, how even the simple act of eating seemed to carry a kind of silent ritual.

And then, slowly, a smile appeared on his lips as a confirmation.

"Isn’t that how it works?" he replied, resting his elbow slightly near the table, his gaze fixed on her. "When two people are on a date... it’s usually a mutual assessment."

The word "date" hung in the air for a brief moment, laden with a slight provocation that wasn’t hidden, and Rakshasa released a small puff of air through her nose, almost like a suppressed laugh.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, not in irritation, but in something between curiosity and amusement.

"You know exactly what I meant," she replied, her voice lower now, closer, as if the space itself had tilted to hear her better.

"And, honestly... you should be a little more subtle in your approach." Her fingers rested on the utensil for a second, while she observed him more closely. "Most women would be... uncomfortable with this kind of behavior."

Victor listened.

Processed.

And completely ignored it.

He shrugged, just like that, as if that observation had no real weight on his actions, and brought a small piece of fish to his mouth for the first time. The flavor exploded intensely, the metallic taste of blood mixed with complex spices, creating something almost wild—and he chewed calmly, as if evaluating it as much as he evaluated the woman in front of him.

"There are women... and there are Women," he said finally, lightly wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, without any hurry.

His eyes returned to hers, direct, without hesitation. "And honestly? I’m sitting in front of a crazy woman who basically dragged me here using the rules of the system created by old men."

There was a pause.

Not dramatic.

But charged.

"So," he continued, tilting his head slightly, his smile returning, sharper now, "the least I can do... is have fun."

That word—have fun—seemed to echo differently in the room, as if it had been absorbed by the walls and returned with greater weight.

Rakshasa didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes remained fixed on him as she brought another piece of fish to her mouth, chewing slowly, as if savoring not only the food but also what he had said.

"...Have fun," she repeated, almost in a whisper, tilting her face slightly. "Even against your own will?"

Victor let out a small laugh through his nose, something light but genuine. He rested his fingers on the table, drumming once, as if organizing his thoughts... not because he was confused, but because he was... too comfortable.

"I don’t even know anymore," he replied, with surprising honesty. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but his eyes remained alert, alive.

"Maybe at first it was against my will. Now..." he paused briefly, just long enough to let the idea sink in, "...now I’m just enjoying it."

Rakshasa observed.

Silently.

Without interrupting.

"That’s what I want," Victor continued, now in a more direct tone, less provocative and more... truthful. "Fun. Something worthwhile. Something that makes me feel alive." His eyes gleamed for a moment, something deeper passing behind that confident gaze. "And... a little power."

The word power changed something.

It was subtle.

But undeniable.

Rakshasa tilted her head slightly, her eyes analyzing him more carefully now, as if that were the first answer that truly mattered among all the others.

"Power..." she murmured, setting the utensil down for a moment. "That’s easy to get, if you have the right connections."

Victor didn’t react with surprise. "Not even with immediate interest."

She simply shrugged.

"Not always," he replied, simply, directly. He leaned slightly forward, supporting himself with his arms more firmly now, as if finally entering territory that truly interested him. "That kind of power..." he made a small gesture with his hand, as if discarding something invisible in the air, "...is irrelevant."

Rakshasa’s eyes narrowed a little more.

"...Irrelevant?" she repeated, a slight hint of curiosity emerging.

"What do I want it for?" Victor smiled, this time without provocation, just with conviction. "Completely."

Now she was interested.

Really.

It was no longer a superficial game of words, nor an exchange of empty provocations. There was something there—something she hadn’t yet fully understood, but which was clearly not common.

"And what exactly do you want?" "...you speak like a king," she said, resting her chin slightly on her fingers, her gaze fixed on him with renewed intensity.

Victor didn’t look away.

He didn’t think twice.

"If it’s going to be put on the table..." he began, his voice firm, steady, carrying a clarity that left no room for doubt, "...I want to be strong enough to never need anyone."

Silence.

But not an empty silence.

It was a silence that absorbed the phrase, that chewed it over, that analyzed it from every possible angle before allowing any reaction.

Rakshasa didn’t answer immediately.

Her eyes remained fixed on him, motionless, as if she were trying to find some crack in that answer, some hesitation, some weakness hidden behind those direct words.

But there wasn’t one.

And that... bothered her.

"...You speak like a king," she said finally, her voice lower, but now carrying something different—something sharper.

"...I want to be strong enough to never need anyone."

Silence ... Her eyes narrowed slightly, and the air around her seemed to grow a little heavier, almost imperceptibly. "From the moment you walked in here... you’ve been acting like someone who’s already on top."

Victor didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t react.

He just listened.

"And that..." she continued, leaning slightly forward, her gaze fixed on his more intensely now, "...is irritating."

The word landed like a blade.

But Victor... smiled.

Not a restrained smile.

Not a polite smile.

But a genuine, open, almost amused smile.

"If you were truly irritated..." he replied calmly, tilting his head slightly, as if pointing out something too obvious to need explaining, "...I’d already be dead."

The silence that followed was heavier than all the previous ones.

Denser.

More dangerous.

"But you’re not," he continued, unhurriedly, holding her gaze without wavering for a single second. "You just want to see how far this goes."

Her eyes gleamed slightly.

"How far... my arrogance reaches."

Rakshasa didn’t move.

Not immediately.

But something changed.

Not in the atmosphere.

Not in the aura.

But in her.

A small smile appeared again on her lips—slower this time, more... genuine.

And, for the first time since he had entered that hall—

She didn’t seem to be in complete control of the situation.

She seemed... interested in losing a little bit of him.