Chapter 12

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 12

Chapter Title: Interrogated by the Patriarch

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Yuria.

The next day arrived.

-Knock knock.

Like clockwork, a knock echoed precisely at 7 a.m.

"The Family Head wishes to see you."

Outside the door stood the Old Butler, his hair streaked with white, unable to hide his worried expression.

So it had come.

I patted his shoulder reassuringly, twice.

"Got it."

His instincts were sharp as ever.

Word of yesterday's events must have reached the Family Head's ears. In a way, it was inevitable.

The moment rumors spread of keeping a vampire without permission in the household, we'd be branded heretics, and inquisitors would swarm the place by tomorrow.

"Hold on, the rest of you don't need to come in."

I stopped the maids crowding into my room.

Worried Yuria's kiss marks might still be visible, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠called only Harzen inside, refusing other attendants, and got dressed.

...

Two men waited in front of the study.

The protagonist, Dillon, and my second brother, Kane.

I breezily ignored their heavy stares and opened the door.

A wave of mana pressure surged toward me.

And with a mere glance, Ian dispelled it effortlessly.

"...! You, what the—"

Kane whipped around, his shock blatant, but Dillon simply nodded calmly.

At his level, brushing off mana intimidation was a breeze.

Kane's pupils narrowed to pinpricks as he spoke.

"...When did you get so good at handling mana? Weren't you at the level of a magic-insensitive fool who couldn't even unravel a basic magic formula?"

"Brother, if you're scared I'll crash the heir competition, just say so."

"...What?"

"Even if I awakened my mana and secretly used Mom as my backer, how much could I have grown? Why the long face already? Shouldn't you stay as relaxed as Dillon here? Oh. Maybe things haven't been going your way lately."

Kane's lips twitched as if I'd struck a nerve.

No wonder—he couldn't utter a peep against me before, and now here I was, transformed overnight. It was enough to leave anyone speechless.

I crushed the mana he'd sent right in front of his eyes and flashed a grin.

The original wastrel Ian deserved the insults, but this guy had such a punchable face that my bad habits slipped out.

From the start, he'd embarrass me like always: "Ian, you still can't handle basic pressure? If you can't even manage this as a noble..." and then he'd tear into me with gusto. Comparing me to Dillon would boost his ego, healing his inferiority complex.

No need for me to bow my head over that.

Kane was a nobody anyway. Sure, he had merchant connections, but he'd stab me in the back regardless, so burning bridges cost nothing.

Slam. The door shut in an instant.

///

Britna Carman.

A wrinkled old man.

His skin was wrinkled. Yet despite his age, his sharp gaze and refined aura remained as potent as in his youth.

'...Indeed. Looks like he wants to talk properly this time.'

"Ian, is it true that the maid you brought in as your sex slave is a vampire?"

His bold opener shut me up instinctively. It was the body's reflex, not mine.

An immense pressure.

He scattered mana threateningly as he spoke.

"Can't speak already? Then what are you doing? Answer me."

Meeting his cold golden eyes, I found my voice. I'd nearly buckled under his presence.

"It's not true."

I spat the lie first. Yuria had no power now, but hide her for a few years, and she'd shatter this family effortlessly. Besides, I planned to ditch this place anyway.

'...Though if Yuria, freshly topped up on blood and at full strength, wanted to, she could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wreck the mansion right now. Since she hasn't, she must have her reasons.'

Crucially, all witnesses were servants, so the odds of proving she was a vampire were slim. Worth the gamble.

Admitting the truth would've cost far more, so for my sake at least...

'Gotta fool him good.'

Of course, it was risky. Sheltering a mere maid like this—if exposed—meant certain death. But with my terminal illness, fear didn't touch me.

Like in novels: the man with nothing to lose is the scariest. The Family Head would hesitate, recalling the timid wastrel Ian before me.

He stroked his chin, frowning, then pressed his temple with a heavy sigh.

"...Do you know which maid hurt your sex slave? It's Knight Captain Rupert's only daughter. Does it make sense for a lowly servant girl to injure a noble lady like that? This won't end with words."

"...I'm sorry."

"Sorry to me? Go apologize to Sir Rupert yourself. Apparently, you blabbered about some special constitution... If not a vampire, then what? And why did she touch his daughter in the first place?"

"......."

"I've already apologized to Sir Rupert and his daughter. Do you know how hard it was to stop him from drawing his sword and butchering your slave on the spot?"

Fuck, that idiot ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Knight Captain charging alone would've gotten his limbs torn off by Yuria—but I couldn't say that, so I bit my lip.

Sir Rupert had no clue Yuria was the final boss.

For now, I bowed low.

"...It's my fault for failing to train my exclusive maid. I'm sorry. I'll discipline her more strictly to prevent this."

"Sigh. Fine. Understood. You're Britna blood. Always think carefully before acting—every move smears the family name if you're careless."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The Family Head nodded, released his chin, stood, and approached me.

"Though I let it slide... Ian, tell me about your slave's special constitution. From what I know, she had no such thing. What's this about?"

"..."

And there was the question.

I hadn't expected the vampire reveal to hit so soon, so I'd spread vague excuses among the servants.

But luckily, this guy was incompetent in the original too.

Strong like any knight captain, but narrow-minded as a patriarch.

In the original, the protagonist stared him down and got believed without question.

That was the key to handling him—his stubborn habit of trusting unwavering eye contact from elders' gaze.

The protagonist barely managed it with his honed mana, but for me...

'Worse ones barge into my room when she's pissed sometimes.'

I met the Family Head's eyes steadily, expression unchanging.

"...She fears blood."

"Fears it?"

I reeled in the bait he'd bitten.

Smirking inwardly, Ian said,

"Didn't you hear from the servants? She trembled all over, eyes flickering, legs shaking like an aspen. Babbling incoherently, out of her mind. That's how blood-phobics react."

"...Hmm. Servants' stories varied.

But they all agreed her eyes turned red."

"Must be a mistake. They've never seen a vampire, so they overreacted."

As I'd hoped. Servants exaggerated wildly.

Full moon, vampire, flowing blood—mere words spawned rumors in their gossip mills.

If they truly thought vampire, what would witnesses say? Nodding, he spoke.

"...Fine. I'll trust you. But if it happens again, that slave gets executed or shipped to the Holy Kingdom without mercy."

Even after this mess, house arrest instead of death? Good enough.

Normally a capital offense warranting beheading or quartering.

But pinned on wastrel Ian's fault, it worked.

'Even if Yuria were executed, I'd block it full-force.'

"I'll remember."

Just as I thought it settled,

As Ian grabbed the doorknob, Carman growled from behind.

"I've given your slave Yuria a leave of absence. Dangerous types shouldn't hover near patients. Visit the slave market again for a new one, or pick from the new butlers or maids for your attendant."

"...A new exclusive servant?"

Ian's face twisted visibly.

Just when he'd bonded enough with Yuria.

She didn't fear his illness, spoke steadily, and now shared secrets—time to raise affection. This interruption pissed him off.

Newbies or slaves were often clueless; if something happened to him, who'd handle it?

Cautiously, selfishly too. He liked Yuria; separation felt lonely.

'And she's the final boss. Leave her alone, who knows what she'll do.'

For the world's sake, better by his side.

Honestly, she was competent—convenient all around.

Resolved, he spoke.

"Cancel that."

Casual words, but gasps echoed from aides.

-Wh-what... defying the Family Head...

-Acting so brazen... he's mad... tsk tsk.

Ian rebelling for the first time.

Unforeseen, the Family Head's face hardened.

"Denied. Yuria's dangerous for you. If she'd scratched or clawed you instead of Rupert's daughter, you might not be standing here."

"I'm fine. Bringing other servants won't extend my short life or anything—just sour my mood. You know how I hate them hovering. Might even punish Yuria unfairly.

And... I quite like Yuria."

"Like or not, some things are off-limits. What if you nosebleed or cough blood? She'd shake in terror."

"As long as it's not skin tearing open directly, it's fine. She fears blood from wounds, that's all. Lately... it's barely an issue."

A chill silence blanketed the room, like ice water dumped.

Honestly, skin blood or torn flesh—bullshit anyway.

I'd improvised, so I played my terminal ace.

No human could argue further. First time feeling grateful for the disease.

As expected, Father turned away, dry-washing his face with one hand.

"...Fine. I'll respect your wishes. First servant you picked yourself. But remember: Yuria's looks are top-notch, but that's it. Unfathomable inside. Her mana too..."

"Yes. Black, omen of calamity? I'm fine. Since becoming my exclusive maid, she's never harmed me."

"..."

"...Sounds like you're smitten with her."

"Not entirely wrong.

It's natural for a master to favor his exclusive maid."

Half-lie.

No marriage or love for Yuria—just a beautiful artwork he wanted preserved.

But to headache the Family Head maximally, nothing better.

Complicated ties: Rupert's daughter hating the favored maid... even Ian's head hurt thinking it.

By now, Eloah—wait, Angelina?—would rage at nobles, teeth grinding. She'd leave soon, power up, meet protagonist next chance.

No attention for sub-male-lead Ian...

That instant.

I glanced back sharply.

Through the door crack, a flash of red hair slipped by.

...She heard everything?