The carriage rolled smoothly down the sloped, winding stone pathways of the 9th District, transitioning from the pristine, perfume-scented air of the nobility into the bustling, familiar sights of the 3rd District. The middle-class sprawl of the Residential Commons was alive with the morning rush… citizens navigating the tightly packed rows of townhouses, street vendors setting up their stalls, and the distant, rhythmic clanging of the industrial forges from the neighboring sector echoing through the air.
When the carriage finally ground to a halt outside the gate of house 132, I reached into my leather purse with my remaining right hand. I handed the driver the standard toll coins along with my official hunter status card to clear the transit log. The armored guards nodded with deep, professional respect, returning the card to my scarred fingers. I offered them a brief, solemn nod of my bone mask… my silent version of a thank-you… and stepped down onto the cobblestone pavement. With a quick flick of the reins, the carriage turned around, leaving me alone in the quiet alleyway.
Walking up the short stone steps of the porch, the sheer exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours finally settled into my bones. The adrenaline from dismantling the Immoral Knights, executing Cameron, and standing before the monarchs was completely draining away, leaving a deep, heavy ache in my muscles and a quiet, pulsing warmth in my lower abdomen.
Safe in the privacy of my own front door, I reached up and lowered the heavy hood of my crimson trench coat, letting the cool morning breeze hit my sun-tanned skin and the scarred, hollow socket of my missing right eye.
Before I could reach for my keys, something on the wooden floorboards of the porch caught my eye. It was a fresh, crisp roll of the daily news, neatly tied with a piece of rough twine. Charlie, the energetic 3rd District paperboy who ran the morning routes on his squeaky bicycle, had already done his rounds.
I leaned down, picked up the tightly rolled parchment, and pushed the heavy oak door open. Stepping over the threshold, I locked the deadbolt behind me, shutting out the rest of Caria City. I was finally back in my own sanctuary, holding the morning's headlines in one hand.
The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut, the sudden silence of the house enveloped me like a protective blanket. My absolute first instinct took over. Moving with fluid, practiced precision, I went straight to the large windows facing the street and pulled the thick, heavy velvet curtains tightly across the glass, plunging the living room into a dim, soothing twilight. As a true vampiric entity, the harsh rays of the midday sun weren't just uncomfortable… they were a violent biological allergen that blistered my skin and drained my core.
With the darkness secured, I walked over to the wooden coat rack by the foyer. I unbuckled my heavy leather purse… now loaded with a king's ransom of ten solid gold coins… and hung it safely on a peg. Then, with a sigh of immense physical relief, I unbuttoned my tattered crimson trench coat and draped it over the rack, exposing my sun-tanned, battle-scarred baseline form, my withered left stump, and the quiet, heavy ache resting deep within my abdomen.
A sharp, aggressive wave of hunger suddenly twisted my stomach. Carrying a growing, high-tier demonic bloodline meant my metabolic needs were skyrocketing. I marched straight into the dim kitchen and scanned the pantry, my single right eye locking onto the rows of canned goods. Sitting neatly on the shelf was a stack of canned corned beef… a staple that Evelyn consistently and meticulously restocked for me, knowing my diet required dense, high-protein sustenance.
I didn't bother looking for a can opener. Channeling a microscopic fraction of my monstrous, S-rank physical strength into my right fingers, I dug my nails into the thick tin lid and peeled the metal back like paper with my bare hands. The rich, savory scent of the meat hit my senses, making my predatory fangs ache instinctively.
Grabbing a single metal spoon from the drawer, I walked back into the dark living room and collapsed heavily onto the plush, worn fabric of the sofa. I propped my boots up on the coffee table, dug my spoon into the can, and unrolled the crisp parchment of the Caria Times… Wednesday Edition across my lap.
The ink was fresh, smelling faintly of charcoal and cheap printing press oil. Right there, splashed across the front page in massive, bold typography, were the words that were currently sending shockwaves through all nine districts of the capital.
I scooped a massive bite of corned beef into my mouth, chewing slowly as my single eye scanned the first major column:
VANGUARD DESTROYS REBELBUB FORTRESS!
In a stunning midnight raid, the legendary, nameless bounty hunter has completely dismantled the primary stronghold of the Immoral Knights located deep within the treacherous Rebelbub Mountains. This historic victory marks the third consecutive time in just three weeks that this peerless hunter has single-handedly eliminated an S-rank threat from the Registry of the Condemned, cementing her status as the kingdom's ultimate shield.
A cold, faint smirk touched the edge of my lips behind my bone mask. I took another bite of the savory meat and shifted my gaze downward to the secondary headline, where the text grew even more sensational:
THE HERETIC FALLS: CAMERON GAL EXECUTED!
The Bureau has officially confirmed the death of the supreme commander of the heretic group, Cameron Gal. The green-haired monster, who terrorized the southern plains and allied with the dark forces of the Triangulum Continent, was executed on the fortress threshold. The bounty hunter delivered his severed head directly to the Royal Court this morning. Sources confirm his high healer, Lara Meyer, has been stripped and transferred to the Dodorant Citadel for permanent containment.
I leaned my head back against the sofa cushions, swallowing the last of the food as I stared up at the dark ceiling. The irony was absolute perfection. The entire continent was reading about the flawless, heroic human vanguard who had saved Caria City from the demon threat. They were celebrating a phantom, completely blind to the reality that the very "blood-sucking winged demon" they feared was currently sitting in a middle-class townhouse, eating canned corned beef, and carrying the future of the heretic commander's lineage safely in her womb. I folded the paper closed with my single hand, letting the dark silence of house 132 wash over me as I prepared to rest for the long three months ahead.