“You call that fair play!? If we can’t talk it out, you just go straight for murder!”
Just as the young man Sang was railing against Hyacinth for not fighting fair, she sheathed her knight’s sword, shook her head, and put on a stern, emotionless expression. “Sometimes, for the greater good, we have no choice but to sacrifice a few lives… It’s one of the hard choices every warrior must face.”
“What exactly are you getting at?” Sang asked, puzzled.
The next moment—
Hyacinth pointed her knight’s sword toward the direction beyond the bathroom, her voice icy cold. “You’re about to become the True Ancestor’s Blood Servant—a far too sensitive position. I can’t kill you here… But if you refuse the [Hunting] organization’s mission, the moment you’re taken away, I’ll unleash hell. No one in this orphanage will survive.”
A threat!
This was a blatant threat!
Sang suddenly felt as helpless as meat on the chopping block. Even if he somehow defeated the two people in front of him here and now, the organization still loomed large, a constant danger to everyone at the orphanage. And if he tried to expose them as the True Ancestor’s Blood Servant and seek protection from the Blood Race… No, no, no—the Blood Race didn’t offer that kind of considerate service to humans.
After wracking his brain, accepting the mission seemed like the only option.
As a transmigrator, Sang was a laid-back slacker who cherished his freedom and comfort above all else. He utterly despised this timid, hesitant feeling. But there was nothing he could do about it.
No matter how strong a single person became, they were ultimately fragile—unable to discard everything, forever at the mercy of others. Weak points would always exist.
And yet…
That was precisely what made them human.
The next moment, Hyacinth continued, “Sang, if you accept the mission the organization has assigned you, no matter how much intelligence you provide later—or even if you drop dead the moment you get close to the True Ancestor—the organization will donate anonymously to this orphanage every year.”
Fine.
The carrot-and-stick approach was cliché, but damn if it didn’t work.
Sang’s heart wavered. He felt utterly helpless about his fate, but this really was the best choice. With a long sigh, he blurted out without a second thought, “Alright, fine. I’ll take the mission!”
If he died, so be it. His life was cheap anyway. At least this way, he could secure full bellies for everyone at the orphanage.
“Oh… one more thing.” As he spoke, Sang’s gaze burned with resolve, his expression brimming with righteous determination, as if he were about to deliver a declaration of independence.
Hyacinth blinked in surprise. This was the first time during their entire conversation that she’d seen such a serious look on the young man’s face. He must have steeled his resolve. “Speak.”
“Could you two turn around? I’m embarrassed to change clothes with you watching…”
Damn it—Sang was still soaking in the wooden tub, buck naked, and having a beautiful woman stare at him the whole time was mortifying.
Hyacinth: “…”
…
Oh.
By the way—
These two from the [Hunting] organization weren’t long-term sleeper agents embedded in the Ben Loren Family. The group wouldn’t waste resources on a mere baron’s household for that. Last night, they’d simply taken down two knights from the Ben Loren Family, donned their uniforms, and impersonated Loren Family knights to get close to Sang.
Soon after—
Escorted by the two knights, Sang changed into a brand-new all-black outfit and emerged from the orphanage bathroom.
These were the clothes Lord Ben Loren had prepared for him: a black nobleman’s shirt, tight black trousers, and tall riding boots. Paired with his rare head of sleek black hair, the once-ordinarily plain young man now looked somewhat extraordinary. People really did dress the part.
But—
It was ironic. This was the finest outfit Sang had ever worn in his life, and it was happening under these circumstances.
When Sang appeared at the orphanage gates, a massive crowd still surrounded the place, packed tight as sardines. Yet right in front of the gates, the throng parted like the Red Sea, opening a wide path.
At that moment—
A large contingent approached, marching straight toward them. Others might not have been able to count, but Sang’s eyesight was sharp. By his estimate, there were over fifty riders, all cloaked in deep crimson capes emblazoned with vivid red floral patterns—the red spider lily, also known as the Other Shore flower.
This was the crest of one of the Four Great Duke Families: the Cape Family.
There was no doubt about it. The True Ancestor ruled the world with supreme authority. That said, as an immortal vampire who never aged or died, she was said to have little interest in worldly affairs, often falling into deep slumbers that could last decades.
Over time, her power had fallen into the hands of a certain grand duke—and that grand duke was none other than Duke Cape.
To this day, the other three grand dukes resided in distant corners of the continent. Only Duke Cape held court at the Central Hub, wielding real power. The True Ancestor might be the nominal ruler, but Duke Cape was the true master.
Sang watched as the knight formation drew ever closer, knowing his time was running out. The Blood Race wasn’t known for its humanity toward mortals—they wouldn’t grant him even a moment for goodbyes.
The next instant—
Sang turned his head toward the orphanage crowd nearby, forcing a bright smile. “Goodbye, everyone! I’m off to the Central. Don’t miss me too much!”
Among the thirty-odd companions from the orphanage—even those kids who usually couldn’t stand Sang—all wore expressions of sorrow and reluctance.
Dean Lilian, Luna, and Adolf were especially heartbroken. They knew better than anyone that this journey might be a one-way trip to the grave for the young man.
Luna had so many things she wanted to say to him, even surging forward through the knights for one last hug. But the knights barred anyone from approaching, forbidding even loud farewells.
Yes.
That’s right.
They couldn’t even say goodbye properly. With the Cape Family knights on the scene, the crowd fell deathly silent. Any noise or clamor would be seen as disrespect—and could invite death.
Adolf was even more furious. He clenched his battered knight’s sword behind his back, itching to charge in and rescue Watermelon. But he couldn’t. He lacked the power. Not only would he fail to save Watermelon, he’d drag the entire orphanage down with him.
Sang kept smiling. “Luna, stick with Sister Lilian and learn how to run the orphanage properly. Someday, become an outstanding dean yourself. Adolf, keep training your swordsmanship and become a fine knight one day—protect everyone. And Sister Lilian… thank you for taking care of me all these years!”
Sang had a word for every child at the orphanage.
And then, as if that weren’t enough, he even nagged at a few familiar townsfolk, leaving the crowd at a loss between laughter and tears.
This troublesome kid had always been so annoying—right up to the very end.
Just then—
The Knight Order from the Central arrived before Sang, exuding an oppressive aura like dark storm clouds pressing down on the city. They were nothing like the Ben Loren Family knights or even those who’d come earlier to draw blood. These were all elite-level warriors.
The lead Blood Knight merely glanced at Sang, said nothing, drew his knight’s sword, and with a blur of motion too fast to follow, sliced a shallow cut across the back of Sang’s hand. He sniffed the scent of the blood welling up, confirmed the identity, and stated flatly, “Take him.”
The whole process was ruthlessly efficient.
And just like that, Sang was taken away.
