She sighed, looked at the contact list, and tapped on the next name: Vlad Jr.
Ring~
Ring~
Click.
And then… a silence so heavy, she almost forgot to breathe.
"Hello." A deep, smooth voice finally spoke—so cold and calm that the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Like someone had opened a window to the dead of winter.
It was him. Count Vladimir.
Alina stiffened in her seat like someone had pointed a crossbow at her. She swallowed. "H-hi. This is Alina," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I'm Vlad Jr.'s class teacher… calling from Little Fang Kindergarten."
A long pause.
"Ah," came the reply at last—smooth, velvety, but still ice-cold. "Yes. Miss Alina."
He sounded… ancient. Polite. Regal. Like someone who had worn a crown in five different centuries.
"Is this call," he continued, "regarding my son's academic pursuits, his comportment in class, or some other affair? If so, I am entirely at your service."
Alina blinked.
