The moment Dante sank his fangs into my flesh, the hum in my mind exploded into a roar. That moment wasn't just a "feeding"; it was the pinnacle of a multi-billion credit production, the peak scene of the highest-rated broadcast. As his teeth tore through my tissue with the elegance of a scalpel, I felt the surge of heat filling his mouth directly within my veins.
My carotid artery throbbed like a pump with every powerful draw he took. I felt the blood draining from my body like a riverbed running dry. Dante wasn't drinking merely to survive; he wanted to consume every fiber of my soul, swallowing my honor along with every drop of my lifeblood. His fingers were embedded in my hair like talons, gripping my skull so hard that I could hear the rhythm of my ribcage crashing against his firm chest.
[SYSTEM: BLOOD LOSS — 12%. EMERGENCY MODE ACTIVE.]
[SYSTEM: MASTER'S SATISFACTION LEVEL — PEAK. PLEASE REMAIN MOTIONLESS.]
Dante was lost in the ecstasy of my blood. The deep, rhythmic sound of his swallowing tore through the deathly silence of the room. With every gulp, as my body temperature plummeted, a newfound vitality and radiance bloomed across his skin.
His lips were sealed against the wound on my neck his tongue gathered every spilled drop as if it were sacred wine, his fangs digging deeper into my flesh—almost grazing the bone—with primitive ferocity. This was the deepest signature a Master could carve into his property.
In the dark haze created by the pain, I clawed for something to hold onto. My vision was darkening, the world around me melting like a flickering hologram. Yet, at that very threshold, Dante's head tilted back slightly. His lips were stained crimson with my blood, his pale skin illuminated by the glow of fresh life. One hand still gripped my throat, his fingertips counting the weak flutters of my pulse.
The yandere glint in his eyes was the gaze of an absolute owner, not merely a hunter. He smiled with the intoxicating power of knowing he controlled every last drop of my blood.
"I know everything about you, rat." he whispered, his voice too low for the system to detect—smooth as a snake's hiss, yet lethally threatening.
The redness on his lips, combined with a few droplets of blood splattered across his blonde hair, created an aesthetic of pure devastation. "Those shelter rats you hang out with... those pathetic friends of yours... I don't like them at all."
My breath hitched. He was talking about my friends and the others. Their lives depended on a single word from Dante's lips—on the bloody price flowing from my neck.
"Tell me, honey" he said, tracing his finger over the fresh, stinging punctures made by his teeth. At his touch, the pain set every nerve ending on fire once again. "Should I annihilate them with a single command, or should they crawl through the muddy streets of Vivaricus until they die? I leave the decision to your obedience."
[SYSTEM: HEART RATE HIGH — PLEASE DO NOT OVEREXCITE YOUR MASTER.]
[WARNING: BRAIN FUNCTIONS SLOWING DUE TO BLOOD LOSS.]
I didn't take my eyes off the data disk on the table. Though my heart ached for my friends in the shelter, I looked into Dante's ice-cold, blood-shimmering eyes and smiled.
The taste of blood on my lips was metallic; just like the freedom I would soon steal from his palace, from his obsessive embrace. Dante thought I was a victim, but the moment he sank his teeth into my neck, I had already decided to become the poison that would seep into his very soul.
As Dante's fangs pulled away from my neck, every nerve ending in my body trembled under the wreckage of the system's pumped-in false pleasure and very real pain. The hall doors swung open with a heavy thud. A group of young vampire ladies and lords entered, standing like flawless statues in their garments of silk and leather.
Their eyes locked onto the smear of my blood on Dante's lips; their gaze held a mixture of raw hunger and that nauseating contempt reserved only for the lower caste.
"The Obsidian Table is waiting for you, My Lord," said one of them, her voice as cold as a crystal goblet. "The fate of the cannibalizing tributes in District 5 is to be discussed. The numbers are spiraling out of control."
Dante wiped the crimson stain from the corner of his lip with his fingertips and fixed his eyes directly on mine. In that look, there was no farewell—only a promise.
"Execution" he whispered. His voice sent an icy draft through the room. "That is what we do to shelter rats, Dorian. When they multiply too much, or when they overstep their bounds... it is simply a matter of cleansing."
My legs shook as I moved past him, yet my hands worked with the cold-blooded precision born of survival instinct. When the sharp tip of the silver letter opener in my pocket pricked my finger, the sting grounded me back in reality. I left the palace, knowing that every morsel I had swallowed came at the price of poison.
I was wearing the expensive shirt that was Dante's "gift," but hidden in my pockets were stolen silver, several pouches of Viva coins, and the data disks I had scavenged from the most secret corners of the palace.