Vast slowly opened his eyes, finding himself faced with an unfamiliar ceiling. A headache attacked him, but the divine sensation he felt on his skin at this moment acted as a neutralizer. Pausing to think, he couldn't remember having taken a bath since he left the castle.

What happened?

He sat up, finding himself lying in a huge bed. A pair of maids were present on each side of the bed.

"You finally woke up!" Vincent's voice invaded the room. "You've been asleep for two whole days."

Two!? The jump almost made him hit his head on the ceiling. If he counted today, it had been five days since he left the castle, and the Conqueror's Tower was as far away as he could imagine. He would have to hit the road as soon as possible, but...

The festival is today... I didn't plan to wait for it to happen, but I can't just ignore what's happening here now!

The Crimson Shooter remained securely attached to his arm. It seemed truly impossible for anyone other than Vast himself to remove that contraption. And seeing that the tank was loaded and ready for combat, the prince declared:

"Vincent, prepare clothes for the festival, but don't say that I'll be present. I'm going to get rid of the vampire today."

The man approached the bed, somewhat hurried.

"Please, Prince Vast, rest a little longer. You passed out from exhaustion! Don't you think you deserve a little more rest? If you want, you can even spend the night with one of the maids!"

"No, thank you, my heart already belongs to someone else." He took a change of clothes offered by one of the women. "Besides, the party needs to happen very late at night. I believe I don't need to explain the reasons."

The man fell silent, his dry swallow was his only response. However, the saliva got stuck halfway, there was a question blocking the passage. With no choice, he had to let it out, even if it meant hurting his prince.

"Mr. Vast, please, regard this question not as coming from a loyal servant to you, but as from a friend..." His lips trembled, more than his body when the prince arrived at his house two days ago. "What's the reason for such sudden actions? Did you perhaps find out about... that woman?"

Vincent had definitely received information about the attack on the castle, so his intentions were definitely not malicious. That concerned look made that very clear.

"There are no secrets to this question, Vincent. I just... got tired."

The man ignored the evasion of the last question. Static, he continued to gaze at the prince.

"You... got tired?"

"Yes. I got tired of waiting for a miracle, so I just decided to do something about it. I believe that's how great changes begin, isn't it?"

"Pri-Prince Vast..."

"Well, but I don't want to see anyone crying or anything like that." He finished dressing, declaring: "Make the preparations, a monster will die tonight."

***

The night arrived faster than anyone could have expected, and even the unannounced delay for the start of the party wasn't enough to prevent a huge crowd of people from showing up.

Nobles from all corners of Von Legurn kept arriving, quickly filling the interior of the mansion.

By a convenient twist of fate, the party had the typical custom of guests wearing masks. The intention was for interaction between nobles of high and low class to make no distinction in manners towards each other.

Vast took advantage of this fact very well. His new clothes, compared to the others, were quite inconspicuous. In appearance, they were similar to what he wore daily at the castle, with the primary color being black, adorned with some mere golden details here and there.

On his face, a mask covering his eyes. He had become almost a raccoon altogether.

I need to be quick and discreet at the same time, so the best thing is to stay away from the guests.

He stayed on the second floor, observing the filling of the hall with his arms resting on the railing. Almost a stairway porter.

The Crimson Shooter remained at his disposal, only the bag that stored the blood was taken from his arm and placed on his torso, where no suspicious volume would be created when hidden by clothing. But, amidst looks and analysis, his mind inevitably began to wander as time passed.

The young ladies all entered accompanied, and a tightness in the prince's chest hit him every time he came across a couple holding hands.

What did he mean when he mentioned "that woman"? Was he talking about Emilia?

He felt no envy or desire for any of the girls he saw, just a painful nostalgia. Even with this pain, he refused to look away from the scene. It would serve to keep the primary flame that had led him on the journey from fading.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Are you sure you're just going to stay here, observing?" Vincent arrived with a glass of wine in hand. "You know, without wanting to intrude, but it's expected that the prince, at least someone your age, already has a fiancée in mind."

He seemed somewhat drunk, despite the lack of sufficient signs. Vast hardly bothered, glancing at his friend for a brief moment before returning to analyze everything from above.

"My heart already belongs to someone else."

Ugh! A sigh that the prince did not hear. Vincent knew well whom he was talking about, just as he knew what had happened to that person. He believed that Vast had seen the body of Emilia, the real one. Maybe he was just traumatized now.

It was hard to imagine such a thing happening to Vast Los Filho, the boy who adapted to his curse in just two days. Cursed in general usually took at least a month or two. And as if such ability wasn't enough, he still used his power to help others.

Something called a curse being used for others' good. Surely the love he received from the people was very well justified. Some even called on the King to depose and put his son in place at once.

Like it or not, Vast was still human. He accepted this reality and drank the rest of the wine. Finally, he puffed out his chest, releasing all the air in one long satisfied exhale.

"Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy this party. We all need some time to clear our minds."

It was by far the last thing Vast would do tonight, but he still thanked his colleague.

As soon as the man distanced himself — blended in with the other guests in the hall — Vast leaned on the railing, so he could observe while, in a way, resting.

Nothing abnormal had been seen so far. Guests arrived and mingled without issue, familiar and recognizable faces filled every corner. Even the masks were unable to deceive the attentive gaze of the prince.

But, to his misfortune, other people at the party had eyes as attentive as his.

"What an unexpected presence." The voice immediately caught his attention. "What are you doing here, Vast Los Filho?"

The voice deceived him, he thought it was someone else. It was a woman — taller than him, in fact — with black hair that reached her neck and a pair of green eyes that saw through his mask. Fair skin, youthful, exposed by the long dress with side cuts, revealing the monumental pair of thighs that worked together with the fabric to conceal the most important parts.

But not only that, something else caught his attention about the woman. He couldn't hide it. His heart pounding was visible, drawing a short smile from the woman who, carefree, soon said:

"Stay calm, dear, I won't do anything to you. I imagine you don't want to see any catastrophe happening here."

Vast remained still. The only thing that really moved was, besides the cold sweat on his face, his gaze. From the corner, he could see that aura once again.

Original Vampire

Strength 67/100

Agility 62/100

Intelligence 89/100

"Who are you, and what do you want here?"

It sounded as least threatening as possible. He could never risk provoking anger in a creature like that in a place with so many people.

"I'm Carmilla, you can call me that." She drank from the wine glass that appeared in her hand out of nowhere. "You're heading towards the Tower, aren't you?"

Vast looked at that figure with a sidelong glance. In contrast to the marvelous thighs, her arms were thin, a complete absence of any manual labor in her life. Despite this, there was a notable aura of responsibility; someone accustomed to taking care not only of themselves but of others as well.

"Are you here to stop me? Do you plan to turn me into one of your vampire slaves too?"

"Huff! Don't worry. You're cute and all, but that's not my business. Besides, this isn't even my region, so you won't have to deal with me later. I'm just here to have some talks."

Carmilla, he reflected. The name wasn't unfamiliar to him. It was probably mentioned in one of the meetings his father had with other kings. However, the details he was sure existed were purged without a trace.

"If you're not here to stop me, then…?"

"Oh, come on! Does a lady need reasons to visit an old friend?" Partially ignored, she took another sip of wine before continuing. "As I said, I won't bother you. Do your thing as you like, because tonight I'm just a spectator."

"And why should I trust you?"

"Would you be able to retaliate if I were lying?"

Vast's silence was answer enough. Carmilla smiled.

"We'll see each other around, little boy. I'll be watching you."

She adjusted her posture, leaving the empty glass on the railing. A standout figure in the crowd.

Vast's hands trembled uncontrollably, and even in this state, he did his best to ensure that at least his voice didn't shake in those last words.

"Is it you…?" He gathered courage and turned to face her. "That voice… you are…!!"

She stopped walking, but her face remained hidden.

To Vast, this was the only explanation. A Cursed one arises by sheer luck. The fatal wound caused by a vampire, whoever it may be, can result in one of two things: a curse or death. Furthermore, the Cursed one could not stray far from the place where they received their new burden; otherwise, they would die within an exact period of 20 days.

That said, Vast had few memories of when he was attacked. He was small, just a baby, but he was sure he had been attacked by something at the level of a Descendant. A vague appearance, almost a shadow, almost non-existent, but it was close to or above that level.

Anxiously awaiting her response, the prince saw the vampire's face turn slightly, just enough to see the corner of her mouth — the lips red in a smile of ecstasy.

"What a clever boy."

The lights flickered the next instant, a darkness that swept away Carmilla's silhouette as quickly as it was dispelled by the return of light.

A sudden hole appeared in Vast's chest. He squeezed the area, disbelieving, thinking he had covered that void with his desire to reach the Tower. He also had the certainty that he wanted to deny. Carmilla's presence, besides being terrifying, had that exact same atmosphere.

It's a little hard to accept, but there's no mistake.

He clenched his fists, feeling some of the blood being forced through the tube connected to the Crimson Shooter. It returned to his veins after the grip loosened.

I really want to talk to her more, but that's not why I came here today!

Sleeping for two whole days was the worst thing possible. He had to finish the job tonight and as quickly as his body would allow. Whether it was a Descendant or an Original Vampire, as long as his fist could touch them, he was also capable of defeating them.

Soon, with concentration quickly regained, he aimed at the hall once again, determined to find the enemy with a single glance.

Unfortunately, this was still beyond his reach. Hidden not only behind several people but also behind tables, chairs, pillars, and large barrels of wine and beer.

A hunched figure, somewhat small, confusable with a ten-year-old child. The face hidden by darkness, unlike the eyes that sparkled in the crimson that the palate so desired. It was spread out; displayed before him, and those who would bring him such abundance would be none other than his children.

"The Cursed one, Vast Los! So he's really here… Well, the most aggressive animals are the first to die when I'm the hunter!"

In both wrinkled hands, balls of flesh appeared, which one might think were warts. They grew and grew until they were half the size of his head, then cracked like eggs. The offspring emerged, large mosquitoes the size of a chihuahua, but containing almost as much hatred as those.

"Start the feast, my children!"