(Sister Mary's POV)
This… this can't be real.
The words slipped past my lips, softer than a whisper, more breath than sound. My hand trembled against my chest as if it alone could steady the storm rising inside me. That scent—it wasn't something ordinary, not some trick of memory. It was too vivid, too pure.
It's Leafy Spirit.
There was no mistaking it.
But how? How could such a thing exist in this barren, corrupted land? My heart hammered against my ribs, the echo of every beat chasing confusion through my veins.
Still, I couldn't ignore it.
The aroma pulled me like an invisible thread, each breath guiding me closer to the kitchen. The fragrance sharpened, wrapped itself around me, tugging open memories I had long buried.
Yuuta and little Elena stood at the counter, laughter spilling between them as they carried dishes to the table. Such an innocent sight—yet my eyes locked on them as though they were the answer to an impossible riddle.
Could it truly be…?
Hesitant, I lifted the edge of my blindfold, just a fraction. My blurred vision swam, then sharpened enough to reveal the plate.
And there it was.
A simple dish, bright and green, its leaves glowing faintly with a luster I could feel more than see. My breath caught in my throat.
Leafy Spirit. Real Leafy Spirit… here. On Earth.
My body trembled. The room tilted around me. I blinked once, twice, three times—but the image didn't vanish. It was no dream.
"How…?" The word formed silently on my lips. "How is this possible…?"
Before I could tumble further into that dizzying thought, a warm hand touched my shoulder.
I flinched.
"Sister Mary… are you all right?" Erza's voice carried both concern and sharpness, like a blade sheathed but never truly hidden.
I blinked rapidly, tearing my gaze from the kitchen. My cheeks burned as if she'd caught me in sin. "Y-Yes, my Queen," I stammered, bowing my head quickly. "Forgive me. I… I lost myself for a moment. The smell… it overwhelmed me."
Her brows drew together as she leaned closer, suspicion glinting in her crimson eyes. "Smell? What smell?"
I swallowed, lowering my gaze. "My Queen… it is the aroma of Leafy Spirit. I—I could not resist following it here."
Her eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief breaking through her usual control. She inhaled softly, then stiffened.
"…No way."
The words slipped from her like a gasp, barely audible but heavy with realization. "How… how can Leafy Spirit's fragrance exist here?"
Her gaze flicked toward Yuuta and Elena—Yuuta, who was still smiling proudly as he fussed over plates, and Elena, who giggled and clapped her hands.
Erza's lips pressed thin. Her voice dropped to a bitter murmur. "That fool… did he actually prepare Leafy Spirit for you? Does he know what you are?"
The question hit me like lightning, freezing the air in my lungs.
Yes. She was right. Only elves craved Leafy Spirit this way. For us, it wasn't merely food—it was sacred nourishment. It strengthened the mana core, refined the flow, balanced the spirit within. It was a delicacy so rare and precious that only the highest nobility ever tasted it.
And yet… it sat there on Yuuta's table, gleaming as though it belonged to him all along.
But how?
How could he have found it in this world, where mana itself is fractured and unstable?
Did he somehow learn that I am an elf? Or… had Elena betrayed the secret I trusted her with?
A chill crawled down my spine. Doubt and fear twined like thorns around my heart, each thought tightening their grip.
The more I thought about it, the darker the possibilities became.
Had Yuuta somehow regained his memory… and uncovered my secret? Did he remember that I am not what I seem—that I am one of them?
Or… worse… had Elena broken her promise? That little girl, so bright-eyed and guileless, had sworn to keep my secret. But what if she slipped? What if she told him everything?
Each scenario spun in my mind like threads weaving a trap, each one more dreadful than the last. My stomach twisted, but still, some small part of me clung to hope. The Elf Queen herself once warned me: If Yuuta ever regained his memory, the first thing he would do is seek destruction… revenge.
And yet… he didn't look like a man bent on vengeance. He looked lost. Confused. As if he didn't even understand what he had done.
Could it be… coincidence?
I swallowed hard, willing my trembling hands to still. My voice was thin when I turned toward Erza. "My Queen… tell me truthfully. Is it possible that Yuuta has regained his memory? Or… that Elena told him everything about me?"
Erza's eyes sharpened at once, shadows gathering there like storm clouds. She did not answer immediately. Her long fingers tapped against her nail—a small, restless rhythm, but I knew it well. It was the sound of her control fraying.
At last, she exhaled through her nose, her gaze sliding away from mine. "I don't want to believe it either," she admitted, her tone low and deliberate. "But we can't ignore the possibility."
Her chin lifted, regal and unshakable once more. "Listen carefully, Sister Mary. You will sit quietly at the table and act as though you know nothing. Show no concern. No fear. Leave the rest to me. I will discover how he knows about Leafy Spirit."
Relief broke over me like a wave, washing some of the dread from my chest. I bowed my head deeply, my voice steady though my heart still thundered. "Yes, my Queen. Your command is my will."
She gave a sharp nod and turned away, her Sliver hair catching the light like a blade. With measured steps, she strode toward the kitchen, where Yuuta and Elena's laughter drifted like fragile music. Their carefree smiles concealed secrets neither of them could possibly understand.
And I—helpless, restless—sat at the table, folding my hands tightly in my lap. The scent of Leafy Spirit still lingered in the air, sweet and Divine Aroma, a reminder of all I had tried to bury the taste. I forced my face into calm obedience, but beneath the mask, my heart raced like a frightened bird in a cage.
____________________________________
(Virethys Cites one of the Vampire Continent – Nova World)
The sky above Virethys had been red for centuries. Heavy clouds, choked with iron-colored dust and fragments of arcane energy, muted the light and pressed down on the city like an eternal dusk. The streets were carved from the bones of ancient ruins, their walls protected by wards etched in blood. To outsiders, Virethys was more than a city—it was a citadel, one of the strongest vampire domains across the continent.
Life inside moved with cold order. Fledgling vampires traded in the markets, Enforcers patrolled the streets, and the noble banners of House Morvannis hung from every arch and balcony. Nothing unusual disturbed the day.
Until the gates opened.
At first, the guards didn't know what they were looking at.
A girl—barefoot,Tattered cloaks , no older than fourteen—stepped through the warded archway as though the sigils meant nothing. Her skin was pale, almost luminous against the crimson sky. In her hand, she dragged a weapon far too large for her small frame: a crescent axe, its black blade scraping sparks from the stone as it trailed behind her.
The guards froze.
No one moved to stop her. No one dared to.
From the streets, whispers rose.
"Is that… a human?"
"She can't be—no human would survive the wards."
"Her eyes… look at her eyes. White. Like a serpent's pupil…"
The girl didn't flinch under their stares. Her steps were steady, heavy with purpose, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Nakedness did not shame her; fear did not touch her. What clung to her instead was something deeper—grief sharpened into fury.
Her lips parted. A sound scraped out, thin and broken, as though dragged from a throat unused to speaking.
"...Prince…"
The word cracked the silence like glass.
Tears cut through the dirt on her cheeks, but her body never slowed. She marched through the streets, the axe groaning against the cobblestones, every step pulling her closer to the fortress at the city's heart.
The vampires parted before her without thinking. None wanted to touch her. None wanted to risk what might happen if they tried.
She stopped only when she reached the towering fortress of House Morvannis. Its blackened stone rose like jagged teeth into the bloodstained sky, veined with crimson lichens that pulsed faintly with warding spells. At the gate, the Enforcers—armored vampire warriors who could crush packs of beasts without blinking—waited. Their hands hovered over blades, their armor hummed with sigils of war.
Yet not one of them stepped forward.
The girl's shoulders trembled. Her tears fell freely now, streaking her dirtied cheeks. Her grip on the axe tightened until wood groaned and splintered. She had believed in something
sacred. She had believed in something worth protecting. And now it was gone.
Her cry tore from her throat, fierce and terrible:
"Prince… Prince… gone!"
The words tore from her like a wound, full of anguish and fury. The gates themselves seemed to shudder beneath the weight of her voice.
The Enforcers froze. Their weapons half-drawn, their immortal hearts faltered.
Above them, from the highest balcony, a figure descended. Count Mordai Vesper, elder of House Morvannis, his presence cold enough to still the winds. His crimson eyes cut through the dusk as he approached the girl.
The Enforcers stiffened, waiting for his command.
But when his gaze fell on her face, the count stopped dead in his tracks. Recognition twisted across his features, draining him of composure.
His voice, usually smooth and commanding, cracked.
"M-Melissa…"
The name slipped out like a curse.
The girl's tears fell harder. Her eyes, white and unblinking, locked on him with fury that burned hotter than any flame.
(Mordai Vesper – POV)
Melissa….
The name slipped from my lips before I could stop it, a whisper carried on the stale, iron-scented air.
She stood at the courtyard gates—barefoot, bare-skinned wearing Tattered cloak, sunflinching. To any fledgling watching from the safety of the streets, she might look like a girl no older than fourteen. A fragile child. A lost lamb. But I knew better. The illusion of youth was her mask, and beneath it lingered something far older, far more merciless than any monster that prowled the Nine Territories or Dragon regions.
The fact that she came before us wearing Tattered cloaks told me everything I needed to know. Mellisa did not arrive in shame. She arrived in fury or Grief, stripped of disguise, wearing only the truth of her wrath.
Our eyes met across the warded courtyard. Hers—pale, serpent-like, unblinking—cut straight through me. In them was no innocence, no plea for pity. Only betrayal. Only a grief sharpened into hatred.
And then, she did the unthinkable.
Her lips parted.
"…Prince."
The sound was jagged, unnatural, like stone grinding against stone. For centuries she had been mute—unable, or perhaps unwilling, to speak. Not once in all of Nova's chronicles was there a record of Mellisa forming words. Yet here she stood, tearing silence apart with her voice.
Her mouth moved again, and the second word cracked like thunder through the blood-stained sky.
"Prince… gone."
The gates themselves seemed to shudder. The Enforcers lining the fortress wall froze, their hands on their blades but unwilling to draw. Even the air stilled, the red haze above us pausing as if to listen.
My blood ran cold.
I forced myself to breathe, to remember who I was—Mordai Vesper, Count of House Morvannis. My voice had to be steady, even as my chest threatened to cave in beneath the weight of her gaze.
"Miss Melissa," I said, bowing my head just slightly, as one might to a queen or executioner. "Prince is not gone. Please… give us time. A hundred more years, and we will find him. We will return him to you."
A coward's bargain. A lie sweetened with patience.
But Melissa did not answer. Could not answer. She is mute. That was what made her terrifying—her silence was a void, a place where no reasoning could reach. She could not be persuaded, only endured.
Tears streamed down her face, carving pale lines through the grime on her cheeks. They did not soften her expression. They did not lessen the fury beneath. They were proof of it.
And still she stared at me, her grip tightening on the haft of the axe until the wood creaked.
Every instinct screamed at me to retreat.
Instead, I stood frozen as she turned her back to me. Her steps were slow, deliberate, each one heavier than the last as she crossed the threshold of the iron gates walked towards City.
For one fragile heartbeat, I allowed myself a flicker of relief. Perhaps she would leave. Perhaps this storm would pass.
But then…
I felt it. The weight of her silence, the way her shoulders coiled like a predator preparing to strike.
No.
This was not her end.
This was her beginning.
To be continued…
(Yuuta pov)
Hey, hi! Yuuta here.
Okay, to be honest, I know a lot of people aren't really familiar with how the vampire hierarchy and powers work… so I'm here to explain it for you! It's pretty interesting once you break it down.
Vampire Hierarchy & Powers
1. Fledglings (Common vampires)
These are new or recently transformed vampires. They're the weakest among the ranks. They don't have strong powers and mostly rely on basic abilities to survive.
2. Enforcers (Adult or warrior vampires)
These are trained fighters. They're fast, can shapeshift, and use hypnosis to control others or deceive them. They're stronger than fledglings but still not at the top.
3. Arch Vampires
Now we're getting serious. They can use powerful blood magic, illusions, and mind control. Some can even summon beasts to fight for them.
4. Count Vampires (Elder vampires)
These are the big players. They control politics, manipulate laws, and hold authority over others. Some have the rare ability to survive in sunlight. They're master manipulators and command respect—or fear.
5. Overload / Queen
This is where things get mysterious. Some call it an error, others say it's a legendary being that surpasses even the counts. It's hinted to be a source of unmatched power—some say it's the origin, some say it's a curse. Either way, it's feared and revered.
6. Ancient one ???