Chapter 190 – “I was woken up by your blood.”

Translator: ChuRen/ YuQiChen

“Meow.”

The kitten’s voice was soft, yet it felt as if someone had gently scratched at the heart.

Compared to the bone-deep, excruciating pain coursing through his body, Sephiroth no longer felt any pain from the ugly wounds on his hand.

Yet at this moment, there was this beautiful snow-white little cat by the man’s side, licking his wounds earnestly without any disdain.

The kitten seemed to believe that by doing this, the pain might cease.

“It’s useless.”

The man extended his bloodied hand, paused for a moment, then wiped the white cat’s exquisite, lovely head with the clean back of his hand.

Soft, warm, and clean long fur.

Just like the boy—warm and pure.

“Tangtang, just let me hold you for a while, and I’ll feel better.” The man intended to pick up the cat but worried his injured palm might soil the cat’s pristine white fur.

“Meow~”

But the white cat seemed unconcerned, lightly leaping into the man’s arms.

A feeling of warmth and softness.

His arms were instantly filled by a fluffy, plush bundle.

The white cat was careful not to hurt the man’s wounded hand, moving very gently.

Finding a spot on the man’s cold chest, it rubbed itself comfortably and then obediently nestled in place.

Only a pair of sapphire-like eyes remained, crystal-clear and shining like rare gems, gazing at the man with deep, watery brilliance.

Sephiroth gently stroked the cat’s fur, savouring the soft, fluffy texture under his fingers, feeling the warm breaths rhythmically against his hand, his heart gradually calming.

The sunlight outside remained harsh, and the pain deep in his bones persisted.

But the man seemed to catch a faint scent of flowers—just like the subtle orchid fragrance the boy carried.

In a place even Sephiroth didn’t know, a warm ripple spread out quietly, like gentle sunshine secretly reaching the coldest, most desolate place.

Like an innocent and naïve little kitten, it lightly leapt over the high walls around his heart, passing through the flesh and blood thorns within, reaching the spot closest to his heart.

And then it stayed—and waited.

The vampire prince who had lived for a thousand years discovered for the first time that beneath the coldness of a vampire’s heart, warmth could still flow.

…

Silver moonlight quietly bathed the ancient castle; its towering spires stood faintly visible under the moon’s glow.

Outside the castle walls lay a tranquil forest, trees swaying gently. The air was filled with floral fragrance, and the songs of nightingales drifted through the bushes.

“Why sleep so far away?” Sephiroth lay on one side of the bed, his deep phoenix eyes smiling with faint amusement as he looked at the boy’s cautious, wary posture.

Tang Qing was lying at the very edge of the bed, as far away from the man as possible—

Just a millimeter more, and he would fall off.

He had just tried once before; even sitting on the edge hurt his backside as if it were about to split apart.

If the marble floor weren’t so unbearably hard, he wouldn’t dare sleep on this plush, luxurious bed again.

Every time he did, some irresistible thing would happen.

Then he’d be sore all over, feeling like his lower half was splitting, needing to rub herbal ointments on for days.

Unable to help himself, he turned his head and gave Sephiroth a glare he thought was fierce.

By nightfall, the man had regained his usual appearance.

Wearing a purple robe, his long black hair flowing onto his chest, his face still dazzlingly handsome—almost unreal.

Sephiroth no longer looked weak like he did during the day, instead appearing elegant and aloof as always.

No matter how handsome, there was no way Tang Qing would fall into his clutches again.

o(^｀)o

Old monster!!

“Go to sleep, don’t pout,” the man reached out to gently ruffle the boy’s soft black hair, his tone surprisingly tender even to himself.

Tang Qing tossed and turned, unsure whether it was the pain in his backside or the system’s words from the day that kept him awake.

“Are you going to sleep?” Tang Qing glanced in the man’s direction and whispered.

“No,” Sephiroth answered quickly.

“Then, shall we talk a little?” Tang Qing tentatively suggested.

The man remained noncommittal.

So Tang Qing thought for a moment and asked,

“Before, Countess Bathory’s brother told me that vampires can survive without drinking hot blood—is that true?”

“He’s not wrong. Vampires can sustain themselves on cold blood alone. But most vampires choose hot blood and don’t rely solely on cold blood—just like most humans don’t eat only vegetables.”

“And you? Do you often need to drink hot blood?” Tang Qing asked the question he cared most about.

Every time he thought about the possibility that the man might prey on innocent humans when no one was watching, he felt a chill.

“Me?”

“I haven’t fed for hundreds of years,” the man said calmly, looking at the boy.

“Why?” Tang Qing wondered.

“Because I no longer need to eat. I can go centuries without feeding and still retain my powers. Besides, the blood of ordinary humans just makes me feel disgusted.”

Disgusted by the taste of human blood?

Tang Qing thought to himself, maybe this man has some kind of anorexia.

After pondering, Tang Qing turned his head slightly and asked again, “But you bit my wrist, didn’t you?”

The boy looked over in confusion, his side-sleeping posture revealing a delicate collarbone and an exquisite neck—slender and graceful like a swan.

Suddenly, the man reached out, his cold, slender fingers stroking the boy’s fragile neck:

“Because you are special.”

“Your blood is the purest.”

“Me?”

Tang Qing was a bit puzzled. As far as he knew, in this little world, only Princess Lily had that status. How could his blood also be pure?

“Tang Qing, when I was in slumber, it was the scent of your blood that awakened me,” the man said, gazing deeply at Tang Qing as he recalled, “Back when you were still a maid, caught by the butler.”

The lofty man said, “I was woken up by your blood.”

Tang Qing couldn’t help but widen his eyes, surprise filling his almond-shaped eyes.

System 99 had said before that the villain wouldn’t awaken so soon.

Yet it was because of him that the villain awoke earlier than expected.

“I can feel that you’re not a person belonging to this world.”

The man spoke as his deep phoenix eyes looked intently at Tang Qing, as if seeing through everything.

Tang Qing’s breath caught.

He hadn’t expected that Sephiroth had long known he wasn’t from this little world.

“Your blood is the most unique. Even purer than pure royal blood.”

The man said this while his cold fingers traced teasingly along the boy’s neck before resting on his rosy lips.

“Tangtang, I tell you this only to urge you to protect yourself. You mustn’t let other vampires catch the scent of your blood.”

As he spoke, he inhaled the boy’s fresh neck scent. “Not everyone can tolerate it like I do.”

Tang Qing felt an itch from the man’s hair and reached out to brush it away.

“Then why don’t you drink my blood?”

The man chuckled softly; his long hair falling beside his cheek made him look unusually gentle. “Because compared to drinking your blood, you have a more important role.”

Humans are food for vampires, right? A role more important than drinking blood?

Tang Qing was still puzzled when, suddenly, the man kissed him on the lips.

A gentle, lingering kiss fell upon him; the man’s tongue pried open the boy’s teeth and tenderly tangled with his tongue. Their lips and tongues intertwined, unwilling to part.

The man bit and sucked on the soft flesh of his lips and mouth with great intensity, as if overwhelmed by passion, wanting to consume the boy entirely.

After a moment, Tang Qing couldn’t bear it any longer and pushed the man away forcefully.

“You old monster!”

The man slowly licked away the silver strands between them, curling his lips into a smile. “Can’t waste good food.”

Tang Qing endured the man’s sly touch and asked again, “So, do you hate humans?”

The man narrowed his eyes slightly and said calmly, “I don’t hate them, but I can’t stop them from rushing headlong to their doom.”

“You said before that Julian died long ago. How did he die?”

“When Julian was just born, there was a prophecy from the priest. ‘Julian will become a demon.’”

Sephiroth spoke as if recounting a distant tale, a smile on his lips, but no warmth in his eyes.

“The priest said holy fire could reveal a demon’s true form. So, the day before Julian’s eighteenth birthday, his father set fire personally to the basement where Julian lived.”

“The true form of a demon?” Tang Qing asked.

“It’s said that holy fire can force demons disguised as humans to reveal their real faces. But Julian’s father lacked the courage to look at his son again, so he didn’t know that Julian hadn’t become a demon.”

“Julian was burnt alive.”

“The only one who survived was Sephiroth—the demon they created with their own hands.”

Tang Qing was a bit confused. What exactly was the relationship between Julian and Sephiroth?

Just as he was about to ask again, the man interrupted: “Little friend, why do you have so many questions?”

“Thinking too much keeps you awake; no wonder you won’t grow taller.”

The man looked thoughtfully at Tang Qing, “And not down there either.”

Following the man’s gaze, Tang Qing saw his own thighs and immediately blushed with embarrassment.

“You’re the one who’s not growing down there…”

He simply wasn’t as well-endowed as the man, but among East Asians, he was perfectly normal.

No need to have that area so big—who’s it for?

“All right, Little friend, go to bed early.”

Perhaps after talking with the man for a while, Tang Qing finally felt sleepy.

Just before falling asleep, he couldn’t help but wonder:

If Julian’s father hadn’t believed the priest’s prophecy, if Julian hadn’t been burned alive,

Would Julian really have become a vampire?

If not for that fire, could Julian have lived his whole life as a normal human?

It was truly a chicken-or-egg dilemma.

And the man still hadn’t answered what relationship Sephiroth and Julian really had.

The more Tang Qing thought, the less sense it made.

So he decided not to think about it anymore. Turning over, Tang Qing drifted off into dreams.

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