Sunlight streamed through the window, bringing a faint warmth and a trace of hope to the room as winter approached.
"Mmm… I slept so well last night!" Elena stretched comfortably, but soon frowned—she had pulled at the wounds on her back.
Of course you slept well—you practically stuffed yourself with sleeping pills at dinner, Van Helsing remarked inwardly from within Anna's finger.
"Huh? Senior Sister, did you not sleep well? Why are your eyes so red?" Elena asked, puzzled, noticing Anna's disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes.
"…Mm." Anna replied flatly.
But her thoughts were still tangled in last night's events—the failed attempt to kill her junior sister, the sudden knocking sound, and…
She lowered her gaze to her hand.
To that finger.
One thought after another clung to her like a nightmare. Every time she tried to fall asleep, she would jolt awake—either imagining being discovered by the Baron while attempting the assassination, or fearing someone would notice the finger.
It had been a sleepless night.
For Van Helsing, it had been no different.
He could clearly sense Anna's vigilance toward him. Every time she woke from a nightmare, she would grab her dagger and glance at her thumb—ready to cut it off at the slightest sign of something wrong.
That wouldn't do.
He needed an opportunity—one that would make Anna willingly use his power, binding herself to him completely.
And for someone with a damaged blood core…
That opportunity wouldn't be far off.
"Senior Sister, shouldn't we go distribute the relief today?" Elena asked gently.
"…Mm." Anna answered weakly again, leading her downstairs.
Outside, at the sect's outer compound, a crowd of gaunt, sallow-faced boys and girls had already gathered. They stood in line, gazing eagerly in Anna's direction.
A famine was raging.
The Bitter Sea Sect, "kind-hearted" as always, couldn't bear to see disaster victims suffer. Whenever famine struck, they would allocate relief grain to the outer compound.
Of course—it wasn't without cost.
Each child who came to receive food only needed to offer "a small amount" of blood.
Even if what they received was merely a bowl of thin gruel—so watery that hardly any grains of rice could be seen.
If this were one of those old disaster-relief dramas, Van Helsing thought, they'd probably enforce some rule like 'if chopsticks can stand in the porridge, heads will roll'…
"It won't happen," Anna replied quietly. "It's always like this. Every twenty years."
Every twenty years, famine came—locusts devouring everything, leaving not a blade of grass.
Twenty years ago, Anna herself had been one of these children—receiving relief grain when the Baron first took notice of her.
That was why the sect required those collecting food to be young boys and girls.
It allowed them to scout for talent…
And ensured the children would actually get the food—rather than being robbed or even eaten by stronger adults in desperate times.
As Anna was thinking this, a little girl hesitantly stepped forward.
"Miss… please, could you give me a little more food?" the girl pleaded, her eyes full of desperation. "My mother… she won't last much longer. Please… just a little more. I'll do anything…"
Anna hesitated.
The girl's pitiful expression overlapped with a memory—
A week ago, her junior sister had stood before her just like this, begging to follow her, saying she would do anything.
And then?
Then Anna's blood core was damaged.
And Elena began to replace her.
The warmth in Anna's eyes slowly turned to ice.
"Enough." Her voice turned cold. "Rules are rules. The Bitter Sea Sect is already showing you mercy. Are you asking to defy the sect?"
The girl opened her mouth, wanting to plead further—but under Anna's icy gaze, she fell silent.
"Don't be so cold to her."
An aged voice suddenly rang out—gentle, almost like a spring breeze.
But it made Anna flinch as if struck by a whip.
She turned stiffly.
An old man approached, his face kind, a warm smile on his lips.
If not for the black whip coiled around his waist, one might truly believe he was benevolent.
Anna's thumb twitched slightly.
Through it, Van Helsing "looked" as well—and immediately recognized him.
My opportunity has arrived.
The Black Baron.
In the Bitter Sea Sect, rank was not just status—it represented power.
Servant, Baron, Viscount, Count… each divided into early, middle, and late stages.
Every breakthrough extended one's lifespan by a hundred years.
The Black Baron, ruler of this outer compound, was only at the mid-Baron stage—yet already nearing two hundred years of age.
His time was running out.
Which was why he was grooming a successor.
That was also why Anna was so desperate.
Originally, with her intact blood core and late-Servant-level strength, she had been the obvious successor.
Especially after enduring his… preferences for so long.
"B-Black Baron…" Anna forced a smile, stepping forward. "You… returned so soon?"
The Baron sighed, adopting a sorrowful expression.
"I am soft-hearted. I cannot bear to see disaster victims suffer," he said. "So I made a quick trip to the sect authorities and brought back grain."
He patted the storage pouch at his waist, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at Anna.
"My blood core is still full of spiritual power, after all."
He emphasized the words deliberately.
Anna's expression stiffened.
She knew exactly what he meant.
Her blood core—damaged, depleted.
The Baron didn't care whether she smiled.
He walked past her and stopped in front of the little girl, examining the pale skin at the back of her neck.
"What delicate skin," he murmured. "Even the gods would cherish you. Tell me, what troubles you?"
The girl's eyes lit up with hope.
"I… I just want one more bowl of food. My mother… she can't hold on much longer. Just one bowl…"
"How tragic," the Baron sighed, patting her head.
Then his hand slid down—resting on the back of her neck.
"What a pity… truly a pity."
He closed his eyes, smiling faintly, as if savoring something.
"S-so… Lord Baron, please help me," the girl whispered, enduring his touch. "I'll do anything…"
"Rules are rules…" he leaned down, speaking softly into her ear.
"But perhaps… exceptions can be made."
"For someone as filial as you… come see me tonight. I can give you more food."
The girl looked up, her despair instantly replaced by joy.
"Really?"
"Of course."
"Where should I find you?"
"Ask my disciple, Anna. She knows where my room is."
He cast a meaningful glance at Anna.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he walked past her and chuckled.
"She really reminds me of you… twenty years ago."
Anna's body stiffened.
"No," she snapped immediately. "She's nothing like me. Her blood core talent is terrible—you sensed it just now, didn't you? I don't even know what use you'd have for her!"
"Isn't that exactly what you are now?" the Baron sneered.
There was unmistakable contempt in his gaze.
Anna's hand clenched into a fist, veins bulging.
The Baron noticed—but didn't care.
He patted her shoulder casually.
"Remember to bring her tonight."
Then he turned and left with a smile, stopping only to open the compound's mailbox and take out a letter.
Anna suddenly lifted her head, staring at his retreating figure.
Her already sleepless eyes were now bloodshot to the extreme.