When he didn’t respond, she simply knocked on the door three times. A moment of silence ensued before Alfred opened the door, revealing his presence to both Orion and the mysterious woman.

“Hey Uncle, is mommy around?” she asked, her words arching a brow on Orion’s puzzled face. Despite her appearance, which suggested she was in her early to mid-twenties, she had used the term ‘mommy,’ a choice of words that left Orion utterly surprised.

Astria, as Alfred called her, blinked and then replied with a touch of curiosity in her tone, “Lady Astria, your mother is busy preparing for an induction. Did you need something important?”

Alfred’s response remained stoic and unwavering, consistent with his usual demeanor. Orion’s curiosity about the dynamics within the family and the intricacies of their relationships only deepened.

The young lady, however, seemed to exude an energetic charm. She put on the most adorable face she could muster and spoke in a hopeful tone, “I was hoping to get a small advance on my allowance is all.”

Her adorable act, though, seemed to not affect Alfred. His stone-faced expression remained unyielding, and if anything, it appeared rather stern. The contrast between her lively enthusiasm and his unchanging demeanor was striking.

Undeterred, the young lady made a playful attempt to slip behind Alfred and into the room, but he stood like a sentinel, blocking her way. His frown, etched into his features, was a testament to his resolve.

“Lady Astria, this would be your third advance this month alone,” Alfred stated, his stone face showing no hint of sympathy. “You know Lady Astrid is not in the habit of throwing away money on foolish things. So I hope this request is better than your last three.”

His frown deepened, and the wrinkles on his forehead seemed to accentuate the severity of his expression. His sternness was evident in every line and crease on his face, making it clear that he was not one to be swayed by charm or frivolous requests.

Lady Astria pouted, her crimson hair swaying gently as she folded her arms protectively over her bust. “Every request I make is a serious request for the development and future of our home,” she protested, her tone carrying a hint of frustration.

Alfred, though unwavering, allowed her to make her case. “Name one request,” he demanded, his stone-faced demeanor holding steady.

Astria leaned in closer to Alfred, doubling down on her adorable charm. “What about my request to buy the space station?” she countered, her voice carrying a hint of determination.

Alfred’s attitude remained unchanged, though his barely visible eyebrows seemed to twitch in annoyance. “Yes, the space station,” he affirmed, his tone unwavering. “Because you felt, and I quote, ‘Earth is getting too lame for vampires. We need to go to the moon.’”

Astria pouted even more, digging her heels in. “And I stand by that. The normies are ruining the Earth, so we might as well leave, right?”

Alfred had no time for further argument. He simply stared her down, his gaze unapologetic, and uttered a firm statement, “You are smarter than this.”

With that, he turned his back, closing the door behind him, leaving Astria in stunned silence. She stood there for several moments, a shocked expression on her face. “Uncle Alfred, get back here!” she shouted, but her plea fell on deaf ears.

The entire scene unfolded before Orion’s eyes, leaving him in a state of bewilderment. The complexities and dynamics within House Toreliari continued to surprise him, and the enigmatic world he had entered showed no signs of becoming any less intriguing.

Astria huffed and puffed her cheeks, her frustration causing them to plump with air until her face reddened, resembling a pepper. Her fiery hair seemed to shimmer with her rising irritation.

Orion couldn’t help but notice her breathing, a simple yet fundamental act that raised questions in his mind. He pondered, “Can vampires breathe?” It was a query that added to the myriad of uncertainties swirling within him. He realized he knew very little about vampires and even less about the purpose of his presence in this enigmatic world.

As his thoughts shifted, Orion’s entire demeanor changed. He began considering various scenarios, his hand stroking his chin in contemplation. It was during this moment of reflection that Astria finally seemed to take notice of him.

“Hello, are you one of Uncle’s new recruits?” she asked, her tone implying that she expected more from Orion. Her eyes were drawn to his distinctive black and silver hair, and she focused intently on this unique feature.

Orion, however, remained silent, unsure of how to respond. He observed her as she approached, towering over him from the seat beside him.

“Hello, can you talk?” she inquired, her curiosity apparent as she continued to study him. The complexities of this world and the people within it left Orion in a state of uncertainty, his mind a whirlwind of questions and hesitations.

The awkward silence between Orion and Astria hung heavily in the air, and it seemed to wear on her patience. In frustration, she stomped her feet and pointed accusingly at him, her fiery-red fingers mirroring her fiery temperament.

“You know it’s rude to not acknowledge someone who is talking to you,” she scolded, her tone turning petulant, almost like a tantrum.

Orion slowly turned his gaze toward her, the silence lingering for several more moments before he finally spoke. “It’s also rude to point your fingers in someone’s face and question them without first introducing yourself,” he retorted, his attitude nonchalant. He returned her intense stare with one of his own, delving deep into her being, scrutinizing every detail.

“For someone who holds a title like Lady, you sure are rude,” Orion commented in a softer tone, a subtle smile playing on his lips. Astria was caught off guard by his response, her initial annoyance replaced by surprise.

“You... are not an employee, are you?” she asked, a hint of fear in her voice. However, before the conversation could progress any further, the door opened once more. This time, a different individual emerged—a man with a distinctive mohawk and a large snake tattoo running down his neck. He wore oversized reflective sunglasses that seemed to capture everything around him.

“Potential!” the man shouted from the doorway, his voice ringing out with authority and purpose. The sudden interruption left Orion and Astria momentarily stunned, their exchange put on hold in the wake of this new development.

The man who emerged from the door wore an enormous grin on his face, and his pearly white teeth sparkled and reflected almost as much as his oversized sunglasses.

“Pote—” He started to speak again but paused when he noticed Astria. “Dobry wieczór, Lady Astria!” He offered a courteous bow, his right fist over his heart, a gesture that caught Orion off guard. The collection of eccentric characters he had encountered only grew more bewildering.

The man was dressed in a suit that hailed from the late ’60s or early ’70s, a style long out of fashion but worn with pride. He sported bell-bottom shoes adorned with a peace sign, and he was nearly bald, with no more than a centimeter of hair or less remaining. His tall frame almost brushed against the top of the doorframe, and he appeared to be of Polynesian descent, his robust physique reflecting his heritage.

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Astria’s excitement bubbled forth as she addressed him. “RightFang!” she exclaimed. “You know you’re my third favorite person of all time, right?”

Attempting to gain his favor, Astria continued, “Maybe you’re in a better mood than Uncle Alfred—”

However, RightFang raised his right hand to interrupt her. “I am sorry, Lady Astria,” he said with a respectful tone. “But Uncle Alfred has instructed me to— and I quote—′ Only bring the potential in. If Lady Astria is still outside waiting, inform her that if you, Left Fang, or any other member indulge her insane request tonight, we will all be— and again I quote—′ obtaining our next transfusions from an IV in the ICU ward because he will, and for the final time, I quote, ‘beat the ghoulish hell out of us.’”

RightFang explained with a sense of pride and excitement in his voice. “Well, that part about beating the living ghoul out of us was my touch,” he admitted. “He simply said we would be in trouble.”

Turning his attention to the potential, RightFang issued a solemn warning. “It’s best not to get on Uncle Alfred’s bad side. His eyes can make threats his voice does not need to say, and then it can just happen.” The gravity of his words hung in the air, emphasizing the authority that Uncle Alfred held within this enigmatic world.

Astria’s frustration boiled over, and she stomped her foot once again, her face turning bright red with anger. “Damnit, RightFang! At least let me get the question out!” she demanded, her temper flaring.

RightFang maintained his respectful demeanor as he responded, “I apologize for bringing you such bad news, Lady Astria, but Uncle Alfred’s law is second only to your mother. An order from him is as good as it gets.”

Astria’s cheeks puffed up like a pufferfish, the blush of embarrassment rushing to her face as she accepted the reality of the situation.

Turning his attention to Orion, RightFang gestured for him to come closer. He then turned and began to head into the dark room. “The name of the game is ‘keep up,’ not ‘catch up,’ potential,” he said with a playful tone, albeit tinged with seriousness. “You don’t want Uncle Alfred to come out here and drag you inside, do you?”

The warning hung in the air, emphasizing the importance of compliance in this mysterious world governed by its own set of rules and hierarchies. Orion had little choice but to follow RightFang into the unknown, leaving the enigmatic Lady Astria behind, her frustrations and fiery personality etched into his memory.

The door closed behind Orion as he entered the room, and he found himself plunged into pure darkness. His eyes strained to adjust, and he could barely make out the silhouette of RightFang in front of him. It was clear that the room he had entered was not an office, as he had initially assumed, but rather a stairwell that wound down into the depths of the earth itself.

“So tell me, Potential,” RightFang began as they descended the dark stairwell, “how much do you know about our world?” Orion remained silent, struggling to navigate the unfamiliar terrain. He occasionally missed a step but managed to catch himself before tumbling.

“Nothing,” Orion admitted with a hint of spite in his tone. “Before earlier tonight, I didn’t even know any of this was real.”

RightFang let out a hearty laugh, seemingly uncaring and oblivious to Orion’s feelings. “Wow, so you’re going to be a fledgling contract ghoul. Dang, sucks to be you,” he remarked callously. “You really drew a short straw in life. I bet you didn’t even know you had a contract.”

Orion couldn’t help but respond with annoyance. “As I stated, your world was just a collection of good movies in the ’80s and ’90s, followed by bad movies in the mid to late 2000s. All of which were works of fiction.”

As they continued descending the dark stairwell, RightFang chuckled and reminisced about the ’70s, emphasizing how great that era had been. He took pride in his knowledge of the movie “Lost Boys” and how he knew individuals who had pitched the idea to the studios. His tone was filled with a sense of accomplishment.

RightFang continued to explain how the studios had initially dismissed the idea of biker fangs, attributing it to the prevailing vampire stereotypes of the time. “But that was only because for the longest time, the only propaganda you heard about us was ‘suck your blood this,’ ‘coffins that,’ and ‘blue balling Harker,’” he added with a hint of pride, seemingly cherishing the notion of blue balling Harker.

Orion was taken aback by this revelation. His tone reflected his surprise as he asked, “Wait, Harker was real?”

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they stood before a massive door that dominated the space. This imposing door was crafted from solid oak, its surface weathered by centuries of existence. It bore the weight of history, evident in the intricate carvings and symbols that adorned its surface. Each carving told a story, adding to the sense of significance and mystery surrounding what lay beyond.

Several torches, their flames dancing with an otherworldly vitality, lined the corridor, casting their warm, flickering light upon the door. The torchlight played upon the door’s surface, revealing the fine details etched into the wood. The shadows they cast seemed to come alive, as if whispering secrets of the ages.

“Was he ever?” RightFang excitedly commented, a mischievous grin on his face. “But that’s a story for later, well, that is if you survive that is!”

With those words, the heavy door swung open with a creak, revealing the unknown world that lay beyond. RightFang entered, beckoning for the potential, Orion, to follow and discover the secrets that awaited him.

Orion stepped into a vast chamber, grand enough to house several people comfortably. The chamber’s atmosphere was thick with an aura of reverence, and at its center stood an imposing altar, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols that seemed to pulsate with a mystical energy.

Several beings occupied the room, their presence commanding respect. Alfred was among them, standing at perfect attention with an unwavering posture, the embodiment of stoicism and discipline. He cast an imposing figure, his gaze fixed on the altar with unwavering determination.

However, it was the person next to Alfred who caught Orion’s eye. A woman stood beside him, her form shrouded in an air of mystery. She was poised before the altar, deep in prayer, her attention wholly devoted to her spiritual contemplation. The room was engulfed in silence as she communed with her inner thoughts and the powers that seemed to permeate the very air.

Alfred remained silent, his voice reserved until the woman’s prayer had concluded, signifying a profound respect for her spiritual connection. The room was charged with an unspoken energy, and Orion couldn’t help but feel like an intruder in this sacred space, an outsider about to be initiated into a world he was only beginning to understand or torn apart by it.

As the woman finished her prayers, she rose gracefully to her feet, her every movement exuding a sense of ethereal grace. Her white hair cascaded like a silken waterfall, reaching down to the curve of her back. Each strand shimmered with a radiant luster, reflecting the torchlight in the chamber as it flowed in gentle waves.

Her alabaster skin seemed to glow with a soft, otherworldly luminescence, enhancing the delicate features of her face. Her lips, a shade of rose-petal pink, held a hint of a mysterious smile, both inviting and enigmatic. Her eyes, deep and captivating, were like twin pools of liquid sapphire, their depths hinting at the secrets of centuries past.

Her gown, a work of art in itself, clung to her form in all the right places, accentuating her voluptuous curves with a tasteful elegance. The neckline dipped just enough to draw the eye to her alluring décolletage without revealing too much. The gown followed the graceful lines of her waist and hips before cascading into a floor-length skirt that brushed the marble floor with every step.

Her bust, full and inviting, was complemented by the gown’s design, enhancing her natural allure. Her waistline, cinched with a delicate belt, added an air of sophistication to her silhouette, emphasizing her feminine grace. Her legs, elegantly sculpted, peeked out from the gown’s elegant slit, revealing glimpses of their statuesque beauty. Every detail of her appearance, from the delicate curve of her collarbone to the gentle sweep of her eyelashes, radiated an undeniable allure. She was a vision of ethereal beauty, a living work of art, and her presence commanded the utmost reverence.

As Lady Agnieszka turned her attention to Orion, the room seemed to be enveloped in an aura of timeless elegance and seductive charm. Her presence appeared to transcend the boundaries of mere mortal beauty, leaving an indelible impression on those in her presence. Her gaze, as it fell upon Orion, held a mesmerizing mixture of curiosity and contemplation.

The room was filled with individuals standing in perfect posture, an atmosphere of absolute silence pervading the space. Even RightFang, who had previously exhibited a lighthearted demeanor, now stood at perfect attention.

RightFang began to speak, “My Lady Agnieszka, I have brought you the potential as---” However, he abruptly cut himself off as Lady Agnieszka raised her right hand, signaling for silence. RightFang obediently fell silent, refraining from completing his statement.

Lady Agnieszka centered her attention on Orion, who looked visibly uncomfortable amidst the formality of the gathering. Orion made an effort to mimic the straight posture of everyone else, but the day’s earlier events had left him feeling stiff and out of place. The fading adrenaline had been replaced by a searing pain throughout his body, and his exhausted feet ached.

With graceful movements, Lady Agnieszka approached Orion. Her face remained an enigmatic mask devoid of emotions, and her demeanor was even more stoic and nonchalant than Alfred’s. She posed a question, “Are you hurt?” as she stood face to face with Orion. Her inquiry held an air of indifference that mirrored the rest of her demeanor.