The living room was silent.
No one moved.
No one even seemed to breathe.
The words still hung in the air like the final echo of a gunshot.
"Before I became your father… I was one of the people who hunted your kind."
My father stood near the hallway entrance, calm as ever.
But now I saw him differently.
Not as Rajveer Malhotra, the relaxed father who joked over breakfast and quietly watched over his family.
Now I saw the steel beneath the smile.
The hunter.
The man who had once stood on the opposite side of monsters.
And somehow—
still chose to raise one.
Outside, footsteps approached.
Slow.
Measured.
Not trying to hide.
A message.
A challenge.
Whoever was coming wanted us to know.
Seraphina stood near the window, crimson eyes glowing faintly.
"Five."
Liliana crossed her arms.
"No… six."
She tilted her head.
"One of them is stronger."
Father nodded once.
"Not hunters."
His voice was certain.
"Clan enforcers."
Interesting.
Even without vampire senses, he had already judged them.
That alone said enough.
Mother stood near the dining table, trying to remain calm for my sisters.
But I could see the tension in her hands.
She had known this day would come.
Maybe for years.
Riya moved closer to her.
Kavya looked between everyone like she was still trying to decide if this was a dream.
Ananya, however, stood straight.
Protective.
Watching.
Always the strongest of the three.
Father turned toward them first.
"Take your mother upstairs."
Ananya frowned.
"And leave you here?"
"Yes."
His tone allowed no argument.
Kavya finally found her voice.
"Excuse me—can someone explain why Dad suddenly sounds like the final boss of a secret supernatural war?"
For one second—
I almost laughed.
Even now.
Classic Kavya.
Father smiled faintly.
"Later."
Then he walked toward a wooden cabinet in the hallway.
Simple.
Old.
The kind of furniture no one paid attention to.
He placed his hand beneath it and pressed something hidden.
A soft click echoed.
The bottom drawer unlocked.
No.
Not a drawer.
A concealed compartment.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Father reached inside.
And pulled out a long black case.
The kind I had seen before.
Weapon storage.
He placed it on the table and opened it.
Inside—
silver.
Polished.
Deadly.
A custom handgun with engraved runes.
Two silver daggers.
A short sword with black leather wrapping around the hilt.
And a silver cross pendant resting beside them.
Not decoration.
A weapon.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed slightly.
Liliana raised one golden brow.
So even they respected this.
Father picked up the handgun first.
His fingers settled around it like an old habit returning.
Natural.
Familiar.
Dangerous.
He checked the chamber.
Loaded.
Then he looked at me.
"Your instincts."
I met his gaze.
He nodded.
"I noticed them the day you came home."
Of course he did.
A hunter would.
"You walk differently now," he said.
"You look at exits first."
"You listen before you speak."
His faint smile returned.
"Very few people notice that."
I answered quietly.
"Very few people know how."
For a moment—
Understanding passed between us.
Not father and son.
Two killers recognising each other.
Then he tossed one of the silver daggers toward me.
I caught it instantly.
Perfect balance.
Good weight.
Excellent craftsmanship.
Father nodded in approval.
"Thought so."
Mother sighed from behind us.
"I always hated that look between you two."
Liliana actually smiled.
Seraphina almost did.
The tension eased for half a second.
Then—
three knocks.
At the front door.
Slow.
Polite.
That was worse than violence.
Because polite enemies were always the cruellest.
Everyone froze.
Another three knocks.
Father walked toward the door.
Calm.
Gun hidden beneath his jacket.
I stepped beside him.
He didn't stop me.
Good.
We opened the door together.
Standing outside were six figures.
Black formal clothing.
Elegant.
Refined.
Not like the brutal Crimson Fang vampires.
These were nobility.
Ancient blood.
At the front stood a woman.
Tall.
Graceful.
Dark red hair tied behind her shoulders.
Pale skin.
Ruby eyes.
She looked older than Seraphina and Liliana, but not by much.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
She smiled politely.
"Good evening."
Her voice was soft.
Cultured.
Dangerous.
"My apologies for arriving uninvited."
Her gaze shifted to me.
And the smile deepened.
"But it seems our king is finally awake."
I said nothing.
She inclined her head slightly.
"Lady Valentina Draven."
Liliana muttered under her breath.
"Of course."
Ah.
Another powerful house.
House Draven.
The global mafia clan, if memory serves, from our earlier talks.
That explained the elegance mixed with danger.
Valentina looked past me and noticed Father.
Her ruby eyes sharpened slightly.
Recognition.
Interesting.
She knew him.
And judging by the silence—
Father knew her, too.
"Well," she said softly.
"This is unexpected."
Her smile turned sharper.
"The Hunter of Black Cathedral… playing family man."
The title hit the air like thunder.
Seraphina straightened.
Liliana's playful attitude vanished completely.
Even they were surprised.
Father's expression remained unreadable.
But now—
I understood.
This wasn't some ordinary retired hunter.
This man had been a legend.
A dangerous one.
Valentina's gaze returned to me.
"Your father was once one of the most feared vampire hunters on the continent."
She smiled.
"And now his adopted son is the Vampire King."
She laughed softly.
"Fate does have a sense of humour."
I looked at Father.
He said nothing.
Because he didn't need to.
The silence itself confirmed it.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Valentina folded her hands neatly.
"I did not come to fight."
Her ruby eyes remained locked on me.
"I came with an invitation."
I raised an eyebrow.
She smiled.
"The Blood Council wishes to meet its king."
The words settled heavily.
Seraphina's face darkened.
Liliana cursed softly.
Even Father's expression shifted.
So.
This was bigger than family politics.
Bigger than the ten houses.
The Blood Council.
The true rulers behind the vampire world.
And they wanted me.
Father stepped slightly forward.
Protective.
Instinctive.
Valentina noticed and smiled again.
"Relax."
"For now, this is only diplomacy."
Then she added softly—
"But kings who refuse invitations from the Blood Council rarely live long."
There it was.
The threat beneath the elegance.
I smiled.
Of course.
Nothing in this world came without blood.
Perfect.
That was exactly the kind of world I understood.