Chapter 57: A Bloody Invitation

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It was nighttime, and the air was cold. I reached Nebula’s door again. The second time today, and I was just returning from the post office. I knocked twice, and it only took a moment for the door to creak open. Mirella stood there, looking exactly as she had a couple of hours ago—poised, formal, and just a bit exhausted.

“Ah, Young Master Iskandaar.” She bowed slightly, that same apologetic look already on her face. “I am sorry, but Lady Nebula is still not feeling well. She would rather not meet anyone today.”

I frowned, a tight furrow crossing my brow. It was strange, even for Nebula. She had always been withdrawn, but now this was beginning to feel deliberate. Even if she was sick, it wasn’t as if it was some deadly contagious virus. Why couldn’t she meet? And here I thought we got closer after landing such an impactful business deal.

“Ah, Mirella…” Before I could respond, a voice—soft, muffled—echoed from inside the room, reaching both Mirella and me. She hesitated, “Please wait, young master,” and then closed the door, leaving me to stand outside with no explanation.

I heard muffled exchanges and voices bouncing back and forth before the door opened again. Mirella faced me with that same formal poise. Her expression softened, and she spoke quietly as if her voice might break the stillness of the hallway.

“I’m really sorry. My lady has asked that you come again tomorrow morning if you would be so kind. Will that be alright?”

I raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure thing... tomorrow morning.”

She bowed, and I turned away, leaving Nebula’s door behind me. There was something here, something beneath the surface, but I couldn’t see through it yet. Was I missing something? “Hmm…” I would have to wait until morning, apparently.

Returning to my own room, I pushed open the door to find Lilian sprawled across the couch, her nose buried in a book that looked too thick to be anything other than the dullest of texts. From the cover, I recognized it was the same book that I was reading before. Synthesis of Affinities Within a Mage’s Core, written by Magnus Bellwyn, the 9th Ascension Mage.

What’s she doing with it? She perked up the moment she heard me come in, her fluffy ears twitching and her eyes narrowing.

“Back already?” She closed the book, setting it down beside her. “Did you get to see Nebula this time? I’m guessing not.”

“You’re right.” I kicked off my boots, my frown returning as I made my way over to the small kitchen table. “Same as earlier. Mirella says she’s still sick.”

Lilian snorted, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and suspicion. “Sick? Or avoiding you?”

I shot her a look but didn’t bother arguing. It did feel like that. Avoidance, perhaps, though I couldn’t guess the reason why. Something wasn’t adding up here. She could meet me even if she was sick. I couldn’t shake the sense that I was missing something important.

“And the letter? Did you manage to send it?”

“It should have been delivered by now, yes,” My gaze drifted to the calendar pinned to the wall. 8th December. It was expensive to send a teleporting letter, but it was the only way. No bird will carry it to the Wraithwoods. But with this process, I could just provide them a rough location and then an artwork of the place to match, which let the magic work on its own. Even the Wraithwood Forest wasn’t out of reach through this process. So it should have arrived by now.

I was expecting a letter back from the Three-Brained Scholar, but I couldn’t be sure if he was the type to write back.

I was about to turn away from the calendar when my eyes fell on a date. I froze, and at that moment, the pieces started to fall into place. Today was December 8th. Three days before the 11th… That would be Nebula’s birthday.

“Ah.” The word slipped out, barely a whisper. A spark of recognition shot through me.

It’s Episode 4 soon. The memory clicked into place with vivid clarity. The Arcane Crown’s Episode 4. Nebula’s storyline. The event was been a turning point.

Suddenly, everything about Nebula’s behavior began to make sense. I stared at the calendar, my mind running through every scenario from the game, every possibility. Three days. Among everything going on, I hadn’t realized how fast time was passing.

****

Victor Seraph leaned back in his chair, a satisfied glint in his eye as he flipped through the pages of the report in his hands. His private study was a far cry from the lively academy halls outside—dark, quiet, the air heavy with the lingering scent of old leather-bound tomes and smoldering candle wax. The room was his sanctum, where he plotted, planned, and unraveled the paths of those unfortunate enough to cross him.

Solara Fenixia. The very name set his teeth on edge. Ever since the fall of the Fenixia House, she had been an outlier, surviving when she shouldn't have. A thorn that dug deeper and deeper the longer she lived.

And now, here she was, aligned with that Romani brat, Iskandaar. Their shared defiance was an affront that Victor couldn't ignore. Not after they had escaped the trap he’d so carefully laid for them in the dungeon. Not after they’d dared to disrespect him in that restaurant a few days ago.

But what puzzled Victor—and intrigued him—was Iskandaar's reaction. The young man had clearly figured it out. There was no way around it. Iskandaar knew Victor had been the mastermind behind the attack. And yet, he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t exposed him, hadn’t even whispered a word to the academy staff. Why? What was his game?

Victor's fingers tapped thoughtfully on the armrest of his chair, the rhythm matching the muffled crackle of the fireplace across the room. There were too many unknowns when it came to Iskandaar Romani, and it would be wiser to remove him from the chessboard before it’d backfire. But… Victor hated unknowns. He couldn’t just ignore his desire to connect the dots and just deal with the man. He needed answers, and he needed them quickly. But for the past two days, he’d found nothing.

But maybe today… His gaze flicked back down to the open file in front of him, filled with handwritten notes, reports, and copies of academy records—all gathered through careful bribery and the occasional threat.

There was a report earlier today. That made him start wondering stuff.

It seemed Iskandaar had been out training in the Eldergrove Expanse for the last two days. What was interesting was that he hadn’t taken Nebula Carlstein with him, his supposed fiancée. Instead, he’d gone with his maid, that wolf girl, and Solara.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. Was there tension between the betrothed pair? Earlier in that restaurant, that didn’t seem to be the case. And he’d heard that she and Iskandaar had even entered a business deal together with Prince Alaric. So was it something else entirely? Did Romani favor his maid and Solara over his fiancée?

No, that didn’t seem to fit. He could have easily seen signs of favoritism or rivalry among the girls in the reports, and there was nothing pointing in that direction.

Rather, according to a report today, this Nebula hadn’t been attending her classes lately. She was sick, resting in her room.

Victor flipped to Nebula Carlstein’s file. It had everything about her. Where she was from, her family, her father, her birthday, and even her favorite color. He’d spent quite some money to gather all this. His sharp eyes ran over her details—daughter of Baron Carlstein, an unassuming house with no particular influence. Her affinity, however… Humans with Blood Affinity were rare.

“Blood…” He ran a finger through the word. It lingered, tugging at his curiosity. She was a Baron’s daughter with the Blood Affinity, her birth mother was dead, and she was now pulling away from everyone just days before her birthday…

He paused, the pieces of an idea starting to take shape. The date jumped out at him as he skimmed further. Her birthday was approaching—the 11th of December.

Victor’s lips twisted into a smirk, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. It could be nothing. Perhaps she was just an ordinary mage, simply feeling ill. It could all just be a coincidence, no? But… she was part of Prince Orion’s team when they were attacked by a demon. And Iskandaar Romani, despite knowing Sevrin was sent by Victor, didn’t reveal it and also used the demon excuse. Could there be something?

Considering all that, “Could it be? Was she possibly…?” It was a stretch. Perhaps he was overthinking, but if it was true…

“Interesting,” he murmured, his smile widening. Even if the connection turned out to be false, it was worth investigating. There was a certain thrill in following this lead, in poking at the unknown to see what secrets spilled forth.

Victor shut the folder, parchment rustling as he tossed it onto the desk. He clapped his hands—short, sharp. The door opened, and his servant stepped in.

Just a student, thin and jittery, always lurking outside, ready to jump when called. The guy bowed a little, face already tense. “You called my lord?” the servant said, his voice just above a whisper.

Victor didn’t look up at first, still staring at the now-closed file on his desk, his mind running through the possibilities of his next move. Finally, he glanced at the servant, his smirk returning. “Tell me, do any of my hardworking minions have birthdays coming up soon? Specifically on the 10th of December?”

The servant blinked, a hint of confusion crossing his face before he quickly cleared his throat. “Uh, my lord, I… actually, I have my birthday then. The 10th of December.”

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Victor’s eyes lit up with amusement. What a stroke of luck? He was sure there were a few more he could find if he looked around the area, but to think one was right outside his door! He clapped his hands again, but this time as a celebration. “Oh, how delightful! What a happy coincidence,” He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving the servant’s face. “I’m feeling particularly generous, so I’ve decided to host a birthday celebration for you, young man. A grand one. What is your name again?”

“Ah, young master, it's Cedric…”

“Of course! The youngest son of Lord Valemont, how could I forget? Alright Cedric, we’ll invite all our friends, both yours and mine. And maybe even some promising first years to join. Such as the Prince. What do you say?”

The servant’s eyes widened in shock, and then his face broke into a broad grin, his head nodding rapidly. “I’d be forever grateful, my lord! Truly, thank you!” Of course, who’d deny the idea of a Prince attending his birthday? Just this little incident might mark his rise in the future.

However, Victor wasn’t sure if the Prince would actually attend. He knew the young man. Victor was the heir to a Duke's House. He naturally knew the future Emperor, so he was fairly confident in managing to get Prince Orion for this. The reason he was doing this was because he’d heard an interesting chemistry between Orion and Nebula before…

Victor’s smirk deepened as he watched the young man bow repeatedly. The fool had no idea what Victor really intended for this ‘birthday party.’ But that didn’t matter. If all went well, this fool would benefit from the night. The only ones suffering would be Solara and her friends. That poor Iskandaar should have kept his nose out of this.

This gave him the perfect opportunity to pull Nebula, Iskandaar, and the others into a situation he could control. “Good,” Victor said, his voice as smooth as silk, his eyes darkening with intent. “Then make the arrangements. And be sure to make it… memorable.”

“Y-yes, of course, my lord!” As the servant left, Victor turned his gaze back to the reports on his desk.

His mind was already mapping out every potential angle, every move, and countermove. He’d draw them in, and once they were there, once they were in his domain, he’d unravel every secret they thought they could hide. He’d take Solara, he’d uncover whatever it was Iskandaar was scheming, and if Nebula truly was what he suspected… well, that would just be the icing on the cake.

Victor Seraph smiled, a cold, calculating smile that never reached his eyes. Yes, this is going to be interesting.

****

Nebula lay sprawled on her bed, her body feeling too heavy to move, her skin pale even for someone with a vampiric heritage. Mirella stood by her side, murmuring something under her breath, spoon-feeding her a bowl of blood soup. Nebula forced herself to take small sips, her fingers trembling, and the blood gave her only a momentary relief before the hunger returned with even greater force.

This damned bloodline. This damned birthday.

She shut her eyes, jaw clenched. It was getting harder. Harder to keep herself from slipping, to ignore the growing desire that clawed at her insides. She’d isolated herself, kept everyone away, refused to see anyone—not even him. Iskandaar had come knocking, and she’d sent him away just not to have to look at his face. His concerned gaze was a weight she couldn’t carry right now. He’d probably push through her walls, insist that she eat, insist that she rest, and make everything worse. She couldn’t bear all that.

Aside from all of that, she couldn’t bear the attraction she felt toward his neck.

She never wanted to feast on a person ever again, for she hated every second of it when she bit on her father’s neck. And yet… despite that, she had made a foolish choice last night. She should have just listened to Mirella but felt like she was wronging Iskandaar, so she said she’d meet him in the morning.

Now morning was here, and he’d definitely be here soon. No more hiding.

“If you want, I can send him back again…” Mirella said, sighing as she held the bowl.

Nebula shook her head. “It’s okay… I trust him.” What she didn’t trust was herself.

“Then, since you trust him, why not-?” Mirella started, but Nebula shot her a look. She was having none of that suggestion. She was not going to drink a person’s blood. Even though Mirella said it might satiate her thirst, Nebula knew how much she’d need to satisfy herself. Too much to count. Too much for a single person to survive.

And that was all considering that she wanted to drink a person’s blood. She didn’t. She was never going to do something so disgusting ever again.

As if summoned by their chat, a sharp rapping of knuckles on wood startled her from her thoughts. Mirella exchanged a glance with her, her gaze soft, her eyes filled with a worry Nebula didn’t want to see. She watched as her maid moved towards the door and opened it to reveal Iskandaar, Lilian, and Solara.

Nebula sighed in her head. I should have been more specific last night. She didn’t want to see others; she couldn’t find herself in that mood right now.

Iskandaar stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking on her. She hated how quickly that weight settled back onto her shoulders. He looked at her like she was made of glass like she was about to shatter if he so much as spoke too loudly. She hated being looked at as if she was a fragile thing. She was a strong girl, but now all three of them saw her like this…

Lilian stepped forward. Next, her brows knitted in confusion. “Nebula, you look awful,” she blurted out, then immediately winced. “I mean… Um, I meant to say…”

“I know what you meant,” Nebula muttered, managing a weak smile. Somehow she found herself chuckling a little. Fine, maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Solara, who stood a little further back, just looked quietly concerned, her wings twitching slightly behind her, unsure of what to do. “Hey there…” She greeted, and Nebula nodded in return.

Mirella shut the door behind them all and offered her own explanation, her voice smooth, “Lady Nebula has been feeling under the weather. A seasonal cold, nothing more. Winter has arrived, after all.”

It was a good excuse, as far as excuses went. It had snowed a few days ago, although all of it had melted away by now. It was December, and the air was chilly. However, it didn’t seem like Iskandaar trusted it, the way his eyes narrowed just a fraction, his gaze flicking between Mirella and Nebula, his lips pressing into a thin line.

He didn’t say anything, though, letting the tension hang in the air for a moment longer than anyone was comfortable with.

It was Lilian who broke the silence, her tone overly casual, as if she was trying to ignore the awkwardness in the room, “You’re right. I couldn’t sleep without a blanket last night. But still, you really look like you’ve been hit by more than just a cold, girl.”

Nebula just gave a noncommittal shrug, which she barely managed since she was lying on the bed. Her eyes darted away from them. She didn’t like how they were trying to figure out what was wrong without outright asking.

— Knock Knock!

Recently, she felt like there were a lot more people knocking on her door than normal. Who was it now when the only people she associated with were already here? The sharp rattle startled everyone.

“I’ll see to it,” Mirella opened the door again, this time finding nothing but an envelope lying before it. She picked it up, glancing at it curiously before walking back to the room and handing it to Nebula.

“Just give it to him,” she said, nudging her chin to Iskandaar. Mirella stared and then nodded. She handed it over to him, and he turned it over in his hands, the emblem embossed on the front catching his eye.

“Victor Seraph,” he muttered, his expression darkening. The girls’ expressions also shifted in a similar manner. He tore it open and pulled out the letter inside, his eyes scanning over it quickly. “It’s an invitation—a party…”

“For what?” Solara asked.

“A birthday, apparently,” His eyes narrowed as he finished reading, a knot tightening in her gut. This wasn’t just some random invitation. Nebula could feel it in her blood, a sense of unease creeping up her spine.

“Lilian,” he looked at his maid. “Run to our room and also Solara’s. I think there’s a letter in front of our doors too.”

“Be right back,” the wolf said, and she reappeared even before she vanished. The girl was fast, and she had two letters in her hand.

“I knew it,” Iskandaar said, taking the two letters and starting to read them. Solara leaned over his shoulder to peek into the contents. “It says the same thing. We’re all invited, except for the servants. It’s a birthday party Victor is throwing for his friend. The son of some Viscount,” he replied, handing her the letter. “It’s tomorrow evening. Victor is the one inviting us so that we can’t reject it. He even mentioned that Prince Orion wanted to see us there. It’d be troublesome to reject the invitation.”

Nebula frowned. Why would a person like Victor invite them to a birthday party out of goodwill after their encounter earlier? Nebula caught the look on his face, her own brows furrowing. Iskandaar was a smart young man. That was what she liked about him, so he must be feeling the same.

Mirella’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she glanced at Nebula. Solara’s wings stiffened, and Lilian frowned deeply. Everyone could feel that there was something here, judging by the way everyone in the room seemed to tense.

Iskandaar’s eyes flicked back to Nebula, watching her as she read the letter, her face pale, her eyes tired. She felt embarrassed because she knew he could see it now—the exhaustion, the struggle. It wasn’t just a cold, not even close. He looked at Mirella, her stiff posture, the way she kept glancing at Nebula as if to gauge her reaction.

“Your health… it's related to your birthday, isn't it?” Iskandaar said, his voice cutting through the silence. Nebula’s head jerked up, her eyes wide, startled. Mirella stiffened, her eyes darting to him, and Lilian blinked, her confusion clear.

Nebula swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “How… how do you know that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He shrugged, his gaze steady on her. “Well, why wouldn’t I know my dear fiancée’s birthday?” He said it with a touch of humor, but his eyes held none. He was watching her, waiting for her to admit it. “And come on, it’s too late to ask why I’d know about the side effects of vampiric blood on their birthdays. You know who I am,”

She let out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging. “It’s… yeah. My condition, it’s because of my birthday,” she finally admitted, her voice strained.

Iskandaar nodded slowly, his gaze softening just a little. “You should have told me,” he said, his tone gentler now. He stepped closer as he sat down beside her on the bed. “I could have helped.”

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You can’t help with this,” she said. “It’s something I have to deal with on my own.”

“Maybe,” he said, not backing off. “But you don’t have to attend the birthday party. I’ll take care of it.”

“I… don’t think you can,” she said. “It’s the son of a Duke. And the Crown Prince.”

“I can. They don’t know your bloodline, so it’s not a ploy against you, but Solara and I. Let’s keep it that way. But if you end up attending the party and accidentally show symptoms, it’d be over for you.” Iskandaar said. “I’ll just say you’re sick. If they don’t buy it, they can fight it out with me.”

“That’s the problematic part,” Nebula said. “They can just target the Carlstein Barony instead of fighting it out with you.” She looked at him with tired eyes. “I… hate these politics, Iskandaar. I too wish that this could have been taken care of by your fists, but people like them don’t care. I don’t want my father to suffer because of me.”

“You can’t possibly attend this, Nebula. It’s too close to your birthday,” Iskandaar said, eyes filled with frustration. She sighed. She felt touched seeing him worry so much, but he didn’t understand. She didn’t have a super powerful grandfather backing her family, unlike him.

Slowly, she reached out a hand, holding his. His left hand. The only one that remained after he’d sacrificed his right for her. “It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll just show my face and then leave. I am sick. It’d paint them badly if they forced a sick person from leaving. And until I leave… I have you to keep me in check, no?”

If she worded it like that, wearing a warm smile on her lips, staring into his golden eyes, what choice did he have but to sigh?