Well, if one were to insist on finding a similarity between them, there was one: they were both girls.
Though their statuses were worlds apart, they shared this one commonality. However, framing it this way felt a bit too cutting—and frankly, a bit impure. Maya aside—after all, there were plenty of young noblemen who enjoyed playing "pleasant" games with their maids. But Isabella was Valred's biological sister! While Valred might not have fully embraced this relationship in spirit, blood ties were undeniable. As the saying goes: "The mouth says no, but the body is quite honest, huh…"
Valred shook his head vigorously, dispelling the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind. He summed it up bluntly: "Just keep it down. I'm going back to sleep." With that, he turned around, shook his head once more, and slammed the door shut with a bang.
"Have I been too lenient with him?" Isabella stared at the closed door, feeling a pang of disappointment. She wondered if she needed to assert her authority as an older sister a bit more to make her unruly brother behave.
But that thought quickly evaporated. As she had said before, her "playful" interactions with Valred always ended with him coming out on top. Every time she resolved to discipline him, her determination melted away after just a short while in his presence.
At this realization, Isabella sighed in resignation, muttering to herself, "I'm such a good sister." She then shot Maya a sharp glare before turning on her heel and leaving. Down the stairs she went, out the door, and into the carriage that would take her to her classes at the academy. Valred's mother, Lady Winslow, had already left for work earlier, having not even seen Valred.
With Valred's father passing early and Valred being just six years old, Lady Winslow had to take on the role of acting lord, managing the affairs of the Carstein County tirelessly. Unfortunately, the Countess wasn't particularly adept at governance and lacked experience. Her efforts, though earnest, often ended up making matters worse rather than better.
Still, no one could accuse Lady Winslow of not trying. She worked herself to the bone, perhaps even beyond. Valred had privately considered that her relentless drive stemmed from two things: the loss of her husband, which left her with little to live for, and her desire to safeguard the family's legacy for her deceased husband and her son. This dedication was something Valred couldn't help but appreciate.
"In ten years, when I come of age, you'll finally be able to rest," Valred had once silently vowed to Lady Winslow. But once the burden was lifted and Valred proved capable, would she have any reason left to keep living?
Valred tried not to dwell on this question. Truthfully, there was little he could do about it.
After addressing Isabella, Valred went back to sleep for another two hours, waking reluctantly around noon. It wasn't that he had gotten enough rest—it was simply time for his tutor's arrival. Failing to greet his tutor would be a grave breach of etiquette.
With a yawn, Valred dragged himself out of bed, shaking off the grogginess. He took a warm towel from Maya, wiped his face, and felt slightly more alert.
"Maya, what time is it?"
"It's a little past eleven, Master," Maya replied promptly. She remembered the clock tower at the top of Drakenhof Castle striking twelve not long before Valred awoke. In this world, a day was also twenty-four hours, and a year was three hundred and sixty-five days. Of course, for Valred, who had once lived in a universe far removed from Earth, these numbers held little significance. In his previous era, Earth had become nothing more than a distant memory.
As for timekeeping devices, despite this world's primitive technology, the omnipresent magical winds allowed the creation of convenient and accurate timepieces. These weren't expensive or complex to produce; even an apprentice with a basic understanding of artifact crafting could easily make one.
"It's already that late," Valred grumbled, reluctantly dismissing the tempting idea of going back to sleep. He continued to complain as he stood up, letting Maya assist him with washing, tying his golden-blonde hair into a ponytail, and dressing. Breakfast was a simple affair: toast, ham, fried eggs, and a vegetable salad.
Of course, there was also the essential ingredient—blood. After his meal, Valred rinsed his mouth with lemon water, then gently "kissed" Maya's neck, drawing enough blood to satisfy his thirst and replenish his magical energy.
The taste of blood spread slowly in his mouth, bringing a euphoric sensation. After a moment, Valred reluctantly let go, savoring the lingering feeling. If there was one thing about living in Sylvania that made him uncomfortable, it was the innate craving for blood that came with being a vampire.
This craving wasn't like hunger or lust—it was more akin to a desperate dependency. Without blood to ease the pain, the suffering became unbearable. For vampires, this was a fatal flaw.
However, unlike humans who often succumb to their vices, vampires had long recognized this weakness and sought ways to mitigate it. Before reaching adulthood, every vampire underwent a trial to overcome their blood addiction—or perhaps more accurately, a form of torment. They were confined with only basic food and water, deprived of blood for at least a month. Only those who endured passed their rite of passage. The longer one lasted, the greater the respect they earned.
The Abhorash family, particularly their Blood Dragon Knights, were the most successful in this regard. With wills of steel, these knights could go their entire lives without drinking a drop of blood. They were the ascetic warriors of the vampire world, counted among Sylvania's greatest forces. Legend had it that their founder once slew a red dragon in single combat.
But these were tales of the distant past. Valred was only six, with six to eight more years until he would come of age. The vampires were lenient with their young, so locking him in a dark room without sustenance was out of the question.
After grooming and dressing, Valred inspected himself in the mirror and nodded in approval. The reflection showed a young boy with emerald-green eyes and delicate features, his golden hair tied in a ponytail. He wore a white shirt with two rows of golden buttons and tasseled cuffs, draped with a black cloak lined in red. The cloak's back was embroidered with a golden chalice filled with blood, intricately stitched in gold and red. His black trousers and boots completed the ensemble, along with a short rapier at his waist.
He looked like the prototype of a strikingly handsome, albeit slightly frail, vampire noble. Valred was satisfied with his appearance, even if this style was somewhat cliché among vampires, making it highly likely to encounter doppelgängers at gatherings.
But none of that mattered to Valred. He wasn't one to fuss over fashion. Similarly, he paid no mind to his maid's soft ** gasps during his feeding or the faint blush still lingering on her face.
At half past noon, Valred's tutor arrived—Miss Trissy, whom he affectionately called "the kind one."
Miss Trissy, aged one hundred and twenty-four, had been a junior of Lady Winslow during their time at the academy. She had reportedly received much kindness from the Countess. In vampire families, it was customary to invite close friends to act as tutors for their children's education, a practice that strengthened bonds between families.
Had Valred's father still been alive, his tutor would likely have been one of his father's closest friends. But with his father gone and his mother now at the helm of the Carstein family, Lady Winslow had invited her own confidante to fill the role.
Valred had no particular feelings about this arrangement. His main concern was Miss Trissy's competence as a tutor, and on that front, she excelled. Initially, she had expressed some reservations when she was first asked to take on the role. At the dinner where Lady Winslow extended the invitation—and where Valred first met her—Miss Trissy had left a less-than-ideal first impression on him.
To Valred, she had seemed fragile and unreliable, almost sickly. But after hearing his mother's introduction, he realized he had misjudged her entirely.