My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines

Rakshasa’s gaze darkened briefly at his provocation, but it wasn’t pure irritation; there was something more complex, a mixture of surprise, amusement, and a slight trace of discomfort at having been, once again, pulled out of her own rhythm. Still, she didn’t lose her composure. Her fingers rested lightly on the table again, and her gaze remained fixed on him, firm, penetrating.

"Don’t rush..." she began, her voice lower now, carrying a tone that wasn’t exactly reprimand, but also wasn’t permissive. "It’s not time to call me that yet. I have—"

"It’s not going to happen anyway," Victor cut in, without raising his voice, but with a firmness that completely interrupted her flow. There was no aggression, but there was authority. He didn’t even abruptly change his posture; he simply spoke, like someone deciding where the line is drawn.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was... sharp.

Victor then tilted his head slightly, the smile still there, but now different. Less playful. More critical.

"Let’s stop this for a second," he continued, now in a more direct, more rational tone, as if he had decided to momentarily step out of the game to observe the board from the outside. His eyes analyzed her slowly, without distraction. "What’s your plan?"

Rakshasa didn’t answer immediately.

But this time, it wasn’t because she didn’t have an answer.

It was because she wanted to see how far he would go.

Victor continued.

"You’re offering too much," he said bluntly. "Much more than makes sense." He rested his elbow on the table, his chin resting lightly on his fingers, keeping his gaze on her. "Access, techniques, support within the lineage... this isn’t something you throw on the table on a whim."

There was a brief pause.

But he didn’t back down.

"And I have no way to repay that," he added, with dry honesty, without trying to mask the reality. "Not yet."

Rakshasa’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Interest.

Assessment.

Victor continued, now even more direct.

"And more importantly..." his voice didn’t change tone, but the weight behind it increased, "...I’m not an idiot."

The sentence hung in the air.

Clear.

Unsoftened.

"I’m not the kind of man who blindly trusts a woman just because she’s beautiful and knows how to use words," he finished, his gaze firm, unwavering. "You’re perceptive, interesting... but you’re also unstable."

A short silence.

Heavy.

"You said it yourself," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "...you’re crazy."

His eyes didn’t waver.

Not for a second.

"And I have absolutely no need to die easily... in the name of another person."

That sentence wasn’t a provocation.

It was a line.

A clear line.

Rakshasa watched him silently for a few seconds after that.

And then...

She smiled.

Not a slight smile.

Not an elegant smile.

But something more genuine.

More... aligned with what he had just said.

"Yes..." she murmured, almost as if confirming something to herself. "You understand."

Her fingers slowly slid along the edge of the table, her gaze still fixed on him, but now with a different gleam—less playfulness, more intention.

"As you yourself said..." she continued, her voice soft, but laden with something deeper, "...I’m crazy."

There was a small pause.

But it wasn’t hesitation.

It was emphasis.

"And when I want to do something... I do it."

The air around them seemed to grow slightly denser, not from crushing pressure as before, but from... presence.

Control.

"If I decide to do something crazy..." she continued, leaning slightly forward, closing the distance between them, her eyes fixed on his, "...I’ll do it anyway."

Her lips curved slightly.

But there was no lightness in that gesture.

"And when that happens..." she said, almost in a whisper now, "...I’d rather not be alone."

Silence fell between them again.

But this time...

It wasn’t a game.

It was a naked proposition.

Direct.

No masks.

"...But don’t worry," she added immediately afterward, leaning back again with the same elegance as before, as if she had said something trivial. "I’m not interested in something that ends in immediate death."

Her eyes were still on him... Steady... Steady. "That would be... too boring." She smiled.

...

Outside that isolated hall, where tension and power games intertwined like invisible blades, the night remained silent—at least at first glance. The castle’s elevated structure had tall windows, adorned with dark, delicately crafted frames, and in one of them, almost hidden by the shadow cast by the internal lanterns, two small forms remained motionless.

Two bats.

Or rather... two presences far less simple than that.

Her eyes gleamed faintly in the darkness as she watched the interior of the hall through the crack in the window, capturing every movement, every gesture, every word exchanged between Victor and Rakshasa. And, unlike the controlled atmosphere inside, what existed outside was... far from calm.

Scarlett was the first to move, her small wings trembling with an irritation she made no attempt to hide.

"I swear..." she murmured, her voice still audible in its current form, laden with growing fury, "...if he keeps flirting with that pretty woman like that, I’ll rip his balls off!"

The tone was no joke.

Not at all.

Beside her, Carmilla remained motionless for another second, observing with calculated attention what was happening inside before letting out a light, almost weary sigh, like someone who had expected exactly that reaction.

"You’re a little late for this kind of jealousy, don’t you think?" she replied, in a much more controlled, though not entirely neutral, tone. Her eyes never left Victor for a single instant. "He literally just got drained by two maids a little while ago."

Scarlett froze for a second.

One.

And then her wings beat harder.

"This is different!" she retorted immediately, spinning slightly in the air, clearly irritated. "That was... circumstantial!"

"Oh, sure," Carmilla replied dryly. "Completely different."

But Scarlett wasn’t listening anymore.

Or, at least, she wasn’t interested in listening.

Her small body tensed in the air for a moment before she simply lunged toward the window, like a living arrow.

"No, forget it— I’m going to kill her~"

The tone was light.

But the intention... not so much.

It was at that exact moment that Carmilla sighed again, this time a little deeper, before speaking with a calmness that contrasted completely with the other’s impulsiveness.

"Scarlett." The word wasn’t loud.

Nor aggressive.

But it was enough.

Scarlett froze mid-movement, still in the air, her wings beating more slowly as she turned her head slightly toward her mother, clearly annoyed.

"Look at him," Carmilla continued, now tilting her face slightly toward the interior of the hall.

Scarlett frowned... but looked.

And then—

She saw.

Under the small table where Victor sat, out of Rakshasa’s direct line of sight, his hand discreetly emerged... and made a simple gesture.

A thumbs-up.

Calm.

Controlled.

As if to say, without words: everything is under control.

Scarlett was silent for a second.

Two.

Her wings slowed.

The tension... didn’t disappear completely.

But it changed.

Carmilla let out a small, wry smile as she realized this.

"See?" she murmured, with an almost satisfied calm. "He knows what he’s doing."

Scarlett grimaced, clearly dissatisfied with that conclusion, crossing her little arms in a bat-like shape, still floating in the air.

"I don’t trust that woman..." she muttered, quieter now, but still full of irritation.

"Neither do I," Carmilla replied immediately, without hesitation.

This made Scarlett blink in surprise.

But Carmilla continued, her eyes still fixed on Victor inside.

"But I trust him."

The silence that followed was short.

But significant.

Scarlett opened her mouth, clearly ready to argue, to insist, to completely ignore it and go in anyway—

But then Carmilla turned her face slightly toward her, her gaze now more direct, more... firm.

"And honestly," she added, in an almost casual tone, but charged with enough intention to stifle any remaining impulse, "if you mess this up now..."

She paused briefly.

Just long enough.

"...don’t expect any kind of privilege when we get home."

Scarlett froze.

Completely.

Her wings paused for a second before beating again, but now in a much more... controlled way.

Her gaze shifted.

"...Tch."

And, without saying anything more, she stepped back a few inches from the window, still clearly irritated... but quiet.

Carmilla simply turned her attention back to the interior of the hall, the small smile returning to her lips as she watched Victor continue his game with Rakshasa.

"Good boy..." she murmured softly. "The stronger he gets, the better his blood will be."