The Crimson Banquet
The golden chandeliers and tableware gleamed brilliantly. Even the tapestries and moldings adorning the walls contributed their share to the luxurious golden tide with their gold-thread embroidery and gilding. The banquet hall of Crimson Castle displayed a dazzling elegance that belied the castle’s ominous name.
“I’m sorry the servants are nothing but skeletons and ghosts. I at least kept the zombie servants out so there wouldn’t be any corpse smell, but these ones still make the atmosphere a bit dreary.”
“…What happened to the vampire servants who used to be here?”
“They’ve been sealed inside the castle for a thousand years. First Bloods like me and the high-ranking vampires are fine, but the rest can’t maintain their bodies without blood, so they all fell into a deep slumber. There are still a few high-ranking ones awake, but it feels wrong to make them do servant work. Now that the barrier is broken, I’ll have to find a way to get blood and wake everyone up.”
A thousand years of imprisonment had been like an endless winter even for the undead with their eternal lifespans. Cardistella spoke casually, as if it were nothing, but the thought of her sleeping retainers clearly weighed on her.
Reading the mood, Beatrice—who was usually taciturn—offered a remark quite unlike her.
“You are the proud Progenitor Vampire, after all. There’s no need to feel sorry for those who are asleep. When they open their eyes and realize a thousand years have passed, they’ll probably just stretch and get up. You can always splash them with cold water to wake them properly.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s from personal experience, so you can trust it.”
Beatrice herself had slumbered for a thousand years in the underground laboratory of the Demon Lord’s Castle before Neromeltia awakened her. Using her own past as material for a joke showed remarkable boldness on her part—especially since it could not have been a pleasant memory.
Far from bristling at being called a “proud Progenitor Vampire,” Cardistella looked genuinely interested and asked if it was true. That alone proved how much she had been worrying.
“Beef steak aged with spices native to Vast Sand.”
“A salad accompanied by fairy fruit harvested from Primal Woods.”
“Baguettes and croissants baked by the legendary baker ‘Bradley Brad,’ who passed away fifteen hundred years ago.”
Various dishes were served all at once, accompanied by endless descriptions. Though the meal was clearly meant to be a proper course, every dish arrived simultaneously—quite unlike Cardistella’s usual meticulous nature. Yet each plate was piping hot and fragrant, freshly prepared. Nothing looked unappetizing, and since Neromeltia’s party did not care much for formalities, it hardly mattered. They simply found it surprising to see such a scene in Cardistella’s banquet hall.
Cardistella smiled sheepishly and explained.
“Actually… since I’ve been living inside the barrier, I had no ingredients. I’m serving dishes I stored in Dimensional Storage. It felt awkward for the host to keep getting up to retrieve each course, but if I took everything out in advance, the food would get cold…”
“Thank you for such a wonderful feast. The dishes I had stored away have been dwindling because I’ve been sharing them here and there. I’ll enjoy them.”
“They look delicious! Is this the bread from the ghostly baker Bradley Brad that Crimson Castle is so proud of!? The smell of freshly baked bread is so rich and fragrant! I’ll eat well!”
“Food stored in Dimensional Storage the moment cooking finishes experiences no passage of time. It’s no different from freshly made. Excellent.”
Fortunately, the guests offered nothing but praise despite the unconventional serving order and began their meal. Relieved, Cardistella ordered the special wine of Crimson Castle to be brought out, and they cheerfully raised their glasses in a toast.
Lusteria, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, happily devoured more of the famous baker’s sweet, fragrant bread than anyone else. Beatrice ate with impeccable table manners, elegantly sampling each dish in turn. Neromeltia and Cardistella conversed in a relaxed manner, their powerful bodies unaffected by alcohol yet pleasantly loosened by the festive atmosphere.
The windows, tightly covered with thick curtains to protect the undead servants, let in only the thinnest rays of sunlight. Those rays gradually thinned as night approached. The joyful reunion banquet continued until the brilliant sun set and two moons rose.
“Haa…”
Neromeltia and Cardistella stepped out onto the balcony of the banquet hall. Cardistella gazed at the sky, so choked with dust that even the two massive moons were invisible, and let out a deep sigh. It was the kind of sigh one takes to clear the head after laughing and talking too much. Neromeltia quietly deployed a purification barrier around the balcony, blocking the polluted outside air.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Though the pollution in the atmosphere could not affect her, she still felt gratitude for the kindness. At the very least, no dust would fall into the wine glass she held, so the gesture was not entirely pointless.
The cold night breeze, now cleanly purified, flowed into her lungs. Cardistella felt a refreshing sense of freedom she had not experienced in a long time. Fearing that Humian might be hiding somewhere watching, she had never once opened a window in the past thousand years. Any trivial information she revealed to the outside world could have unknown consequences, so she had lived in complete self-imposed isolation—barrier or not.
Those long days of imprisonment had finally come to an end with the Demon Lord’s visit.
When the barrier surrounding the castle had shaken violently, she had rushed to the window, convinced the Humians had finally come to exterminate them. But the one breaking the barrier was the Ego Doll maid Beatrice, whom she had known for ages. Beside her stood the familiar succubus secretary Lusteria. And there, too, was the Demon Lord Neromeltia—her master and dearest friend.
The visit of the one she had waited a thousand years to see had brought an end to all her misfortune.
Cardistella felt as though the long years she had spent holding her breath were washed away. Emotions surged within her toward Neromeltia, who had boldly come to greet her after destroying that hateful barrier. Hope, joy, affection, rapture, reverence, pure love—countless feelings of every color swirled together into a single overwhelming passion.
That sweet gaze filled with affection. Those loving whispers that accepted her no matter what she looked like. The reliable hand she, the Blood Empress, wished to lean on more than anyone else.
Cardistella nestled into Neromeltia’s embrace.
“You are my only haven, the gentle curtain of night.”
“That’s quite the poetic line…”
The warmth of an embrace she had not felt in a thousand years. The sweet scent that filled her when she buried her face in that soft, warm chest. The comfort of the arms wrapped around her shoulders.
“Is there any greater compliment a vampire could give?”
“I suppose not.”
Feeling somewhat embarrassed, Cardistella buried her face even deeper into Neromeltia’s chest and spoke in a sulky tone. She swallowed the words “precious friend” and “beloved lover.”
The sweet fragrance of the woman’s body rising from between the breasts she had buried her face in began to numb her reason and stir her instincts. Without realizing it, Cardistella parted her lips and let out a hot breath that welled up from deep within. Her sharp vampire fangs gleamed as they emerged, and her moist red tongue extended longingly, as if desperate to taste. An ominous light burned in her crimson eyes, and the tips of her fangs flushed red, signaling the boiling of primal desire.
She felt the thirst for blood.
“It’s all right, Cardis. Just like always.”
Chomp!!
The moment Neromeltia gave permission, Cardistella’s fangs sank mercilessly into her beloved’s breast. Neromeltia furrowed her brow slightly at the pain, yet she calmly stroked the vampire’s head as she drank, soothing her with affection.
A Progenitor Vampire who had risen from death by her own will. She did not drink blood to survive. She alone was free from the terrible blood curse that all vampires were bound to. The act of bloodsucking now was driven purely by her own desire. Still, blood was always sweet and delightful to a vampire, so enjoying it was only natural. And when that blood belonged to the one she loved, the pleasure was beyond compare.
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
The fragrant blood sliding down her throat carried a powerful concentration of Luina. It was more than the instinctive sensation a vampire felt when drawing life and strength from blood—Neromeltia’s blood truly contained immense power. For a vampire, there could be no finer feast.
Yet she could not drink it all. She must never harm the precious person who had willingly offered her blood. Suppressing her greedy instincts with all her might, Cardistella returned to her usual appearance, the ominous glow in her eyes and the blood-red tint on her fangs fading away. Only a lingering reluctance remained as she licked Neromeltia’s breast clean of the last traces of blood.
The moment her fangs withdrew, the wound closed perfectly. Between the now-unblemished breast and Cardistella’s still-extended red tongue, a thin strand of sticky saliva stretched.
“I suppose someone without breasts has no shame either. How unpleasant.”
“…!!! What did you just say!?”
The provocative remark came suddenly from behind. Clearly aimed at insulting Cardistella, it made her whirl around with a furious cry, searching for the speaker.
Beatrice strolled leisurely from the banquet hall onto the balcony, having deliberately struck at Cardistella’s weakness. Lusteria was still completely absorbed in Bradley Brad’s bread, devouring even the cakes and doughnuts prepared for dessert, and seemed entirely unaware of the current confrontation.
“How dare you speak such nonsense to me! I must have misheard, you tin-can maid!”
“I said ‘someone without breasts.’ Not ‘someone with small breasts,’ but ‘without.’”
“Yaaaah!!! Do you want to be scrapped for parts!?”
Cardistella’s upper body was indeed quite slender. If one could compare a man’s flat chest to having no breasts, then she, too, could be said to have none. A perfectly flat plane with not even the slightest curve.
“An anvil.”
“Yaaaah!!!”
“A frozen ice sheet in a windless winter.”
“…!!!!”
“Flat-chested.”
Cardistella could no longer form words. Even breathing became difficult; she could only open and close her mouth. Her furious shouting lasted only a moment. Her body demonstrated what happened when anger grew too great—thoughts stopped and breath failed.
Beatrice drove the point home by cupping her own ample breasts and deliberately uttering the word “flat-chested” once more. The mocking gesture of flaunting her own generous chest while sneering at Cardistella’s barren one was the final insult.
Cardistella’s crimson eyes narrowed, pupils contracting as a terrifying murderous light blazed within them. Her nails lengthened and flushed red, sharpening into deadly claws. Blood rushed to her exposed fangs, tinting their tips crimson, while her long silver-and-crimson hair began to whip wildly in the surge of powerful magic.
Beatrice, too, began untying the ribbon at her wrist, loosening the cords that held her sleeves in place from wrist to shoulder. Complex magical runes flickered rapidly in her blue eyes, analyzing every piece of situational data—an unmistakable sign that she had entered full combat mode.
In the midst of that explosive tension, Neromeltia quietly nodded and spoke.
“Well. This is about to turn into quite a mess.”