Chapter 7: Sorry, but please go die.

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! My lady! I’ll talk!”

At that moment, a sharp male voice filled with sobs and extreme terror suddenly howled, shattering the nearly solidified killing intent.

The murderous gaze shifted away. Sylvia gasped for breath as if she had survived a disaster, yet still looked over in lingering fear. In the crowd, a demon man dressed somewhat more decently—but now covered in dust, with tears and snot streaming down his face—scrambled to his feet in a panic.

He had dark purple skin and a pair of yellow pupils dilated wide with fear. Sylvia recognized him. This demon man was the owner of an inn.

It was the inn run by this boss that she had gone to at Ilena’s request.

The demon innkeeper looked as if he were about to kneel. His voice trembled so badly it was barely intelligible.

“H-Honored Ancestor! Countess Ilena’s injury has absolutely nothing to do with me! I was just… just doing business as usual today! The countess is… is one of my regular customers. She did come to my shop today, but she was perfectly fine when she left. I really don’t know anything! I swear!”

The owner of the lazy female voice seemed to direct more of her attention toward this demon innkeeper.

“Oh? A regular customer, you say?”

Her voice showed no trace of emotion, yet it made the innkeeper shake even harder.

“What did she do when she came to your shop today? Who did she meet?”

The innkeeper’s yellow eyes darted around in terror. Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Because Ilena had warned him not to reveal any information about her, he was rapidly weighing his options.

In the end, he continued speaking in a disjointed manner.

“Countess Ilena… she only rented a quiet room… just like always! As for who she met… I-I really didn’t see clearly! How could we small business owners dare to ask too many questions or look too closely at the countess’s affairs!”

After finishing, the demon man’s gaze swept frantically across the crowd. Whether intentionally or not, his eyes met Sylvia’s. She was sitting paralyzed on the ground, staring at him in terror.

Sylvia hurriedly averted her gaze and lowered her head. The movement was so abrupt that the broken bones in her body began to throb with pain again.

But that pain was nothing compared to what she felt now.

Sylvia could sense that the gaze from the high-ranking blood clan, following the innkeeper’s glance, had once again locked onto her.

The innkeeper’s yellow eyes spun wildly in extreme fear. He had originally wanted to find a narrow path to survival between these two powerful blood clan figures.

Ilena’s warning still rang in his ears. If he leaked her little secret and she woke up to investigate, he would still suffer the consequences.

But right now, the killing intent radiating from this Lady Hérodi Rose—who could make heads explode with a casual word—was far too direct.

The scales of judgment tipped completely. He decided to point out the truth that the Rose lady had likely already discovered, in exchange for his own chance at life.

The innkeeper raised his hand and pointed straight at the silver-haired figure huddled on the ground, desperately trying to shrink herself into a ball. His shrill voice cracked from the overwhelming desire to survive.

“It’s her! Lady Rose! It’s her! The one who came with Countess Ilena this afternoon was her! Every single time! Every time the countess comes, she is always with this human girl. They always use the innermost quiet room. I swear! It’s her! I really don’t know anything else. Please have mercy and spare my life!”

The last few words came out almost as a wail. He prostrated himself on the ground, slamming his forehead heavily against the cold stone floor with a dull “thud.”

The suffocating killing intent that filled the air seemed to shift abruptly with this clear accusation.

“Oh?”

A very soft sound, carrying a hint of playful amusement, slipped from Rose’s perfectly shaped lips.

The sound of high heels rang out again. This time, unhurried and leisurely, with the calm of a cat toying with a mouse, it approached clearly in Sylvia’s direction.

Sylvia’s heart felt like it was about to explode. It was over. Completely over.

Should she run? But Sylvia could no longer feel her own legs. She kept her head lowered desperately, her vision filled only with her own slightly trembling fingers.

Then, at the edge of her sight, a pair of shoes appeared.

They were an exquisitely crafted pair of high heels. The toe caps were inlaid with tiny crystals that shimmered with a dim purple light. The surface was made of some matte black leather that wrapped around delicate ankles.

Above them were long, straight calves wrapped in black stockings as thin as cicada wings. The stockings perfectly outlined the elegant leg lines, gleaming with a cold yet seductive luster under the dim light.

Hérodi Rose’s foot stopped right in front of Sylvia, so close that she could almost feel the faint fragrance emanating from the other party’s body.

“Lift your head.”

It was still that lazy female voice, now extremely close, carrying an unquestionable command.

Sylvia’s body was as stiff as iron. Fear robbed her of even the strength to raise her head. She only buried her face lower, almost pressing it against the cold ground, trying in vain to escape the judgment that was about to come.

Seeming to sense Sylvia’s resistance, the exquisite high-heeled shoe moved.

There was no violent kick or rough yank. Hérodi Rose simply extended the tip of her black-stockinged foot gently forward. In a humiliating gesture, the slightly cool tip of the shoe pressed against Sylvia’s chin.

Then, with a little force, it lifted Sylvia’s rigid head upward.

Sylvia could not resist. Neither her physical strength nor her soul could withstand the Ancestor-level pressure. She was like fish on a chopping board.

Her gaze was forced upward.

First she saw the beautifully contoured knees wrapped in black stockings, then the delicate lace trim at the edge of the black skirt. Higher still was an extremely slender waist, and finally, a face that was breathtakingly beautiful yet coldly inhuman, looking down at her with slight interest.

Rose was lowering her head to gaze at Sylvia. Her golden pupils, characteristic of an Ancestor, glowed faintly as they stared with great interest at Sylvia’s face, which had turned deathly pale from fear and humiliation.

“Look at me, little one.” Rose’s voice was extremely soft, like a whisper between lovers.

“Tell me… what exactly have you and my dear Ilena been playing at… these interesting little games that I do not permit?”

Meanwhile, the innkeeper remained prostrated on the ground, shivering and not daring to look this way again. The other captured people around them held their breath, not even daring to tremble, afraid that the slightest movement would draw the dark gaze upon them.

However, Hérodi Rose still noticed them. While keeping her toe pressed against Sylvia’s chin, she looked toward the people kneeling on the ground.

“Sorry for letting you witness such a joke among us blood clan. Then, I’ll have to trouble you all to die now.”

Rose bloomed into a sweet smile. At the same time, the heads of the others bloomed as well. A mist of blood sprayed into the air, presenting a beautiful scene painted with life before Sylvia’s eyes.