Chapter 13: Going home.

After an unknown amount of time, the long and cruel violation finally came to an end.

Rose stood up, her movements still elegant and composed, as if everything that had just happened was nothing more than a light morning exercise.

She didn’t even glance back at Sylvia. She simply raised a hand to straighten her slightly disheveled skirt and brushed her long hair—damp with sweat and stained with blood—behind her shoulder.

“A half-baked one is still a half-baked one,” Rose murmured softly, her voice carrying a lazy satisfaction.

“I’m a complete novice, yet you couldn’t even last this long.”

Rose stepped forward with her long, slender legs. The crisp, rhythmic click of her high heels echoed as she walked toward the door.

Just as she was about to cross the threshold, she seemed to remember something and turned her head slightly.

“You are now a half-vampire.”

Rose’s voice had returned to its usual careless, distant laziness, as if the being who had wantonly toyed with and greedily claimed Sylvia moments ago had never existed.

“Be careful~”

“Especially… during the blood moon.”

With that, Rose’s figure vanished beyond the door.

The heavy carved door closed silently behind her, cutting off the faint light from the corridor and leaving the blood-scented dark room entirely to the two people inside.

Sylvia lay collapsed on the floor, motionless for a long time.

Her body felt like a broken doll that had been crushed and then carelessly pieced back together. Every inch of her skin throbbed with dull pain.

The small puncture wounds left by Rose’s fangs, the faint bloody scratches from her nails, and the places where the tiny barbs on Rose’s tongue had licked—all of them still burned fiercely.

Sylvia didn’t know how she managed to get up. Perhaps it was the newly injected blood clan power forcibly holding together her already shattered shell.

Trembling, she slowly pushed herself upright, piece by piece, and picked up the torn fragments of clothing that Rose had casually tossed onto the floor.

They could barely cover her body—if one ignored the large patches of exposed skin covered in bluish-purple fingerprints and countless tiny wounds.

Sylvia did not turn around.

No, she didn’t dare to turn around, but she still did.

Her body moved against her will as she glanced toward the massive inverted cross in the center of the room.

Ilena was still there.

She looked like a broken, sorrowful statue abandoned in the darkness—completely motionless, even her eyes now closed.

Sylvia’s heart ached terribly. She wanted to say something, wanted to call her name, wanted to ask if she was in pain.

She wanted to say “I’m sorry,” wanted to say “Thank you,” wanted to ask “Why did you admit it was the last kind,” wanted to say so many things.

She wanted to say “I… once liked you too…”

But in the end, Sylvia couldn’t utter a single word. What good would speaking do, other than add more pain?

She couldn’t save her.

She didn’t have the ability.

Even she herself had only barely survived this bloody violation thanks to the ridiculous advantage of having just become a half-baked vampire.

And besides, two children were waiting for her to come home.

Aelia and Sophia.

They were still huddled together in that shabby little wooden house whose door couldn’t even close properly, waiting for their mother to return.

Sylvia bit her lower lip, tasting blood—whether her own or Rose’s, she no longer knew.

She forced herself to look away, forced herself to take a step, then another, walking slowly toward the heavy carved door.

Every step was difficult, but she did not look back.

When she reached the door, the hand gripping the handle trembled violently.

Tears welled up in her eyes once more, blurring her vision. Sylvia knew that, unless something unexpected happened, this would likely be her final farewell to Ilena. She desperately wanted to turn back and look at her one last time.

But Sylvia still did not turn around. She didn’t dare, because she knew that if she looked back now, she might never be able to leave this room again.

With a fierce effort, Sylvia pushed open the heavy door.

Harsh light poured in from the corridor, stinging her eyes that had only just gained night vision. She staggered out, and the door slowly closed behind her, sealing Ilena forever in darkness.

……

Sylvia didn’t know how she managed to run out of the countess’s mansion.

She only knew that the moment she stepped through the tall, gloomy wrought-iron gate, the never-extinguishing moonlight of the Demon Realm fell over her broken body like a thin veil.

Then, she felt it—her body was changing.

No, not changing. Something she had never experienced before was slowly awakening deep within her veins.

Strength. She still had strength, and it was far more abundant than ever before.

Even though her body had been so brutally ravaged that she should not have been able to even crawl, standing under the moonlight now, she felt a strange new power flowing slowly through her limbs and bones.

Her vision had become clearer too. Distant ruins, faraway city walls, even the peeling patterns on the bricks—all appeared as sharp as if they were right before her eyes.

She could hear footsteps, voices, and the howls of beasts coming from even farther away.

Was this… what it felt like to be a half-vampire? Her physical abilities had been comprehensively enhanced.

Sylvia had no time to think deeply. She only knew that this power could help her return to her daughters faster. She broke into a run.

She had never felt so light.

The wind whistled past her ears. The ground beneath her feet flew backward rapidly. Familiar street scenes flashed by at speeds she had never experienced before.

She could leap over obstacles that once required her to take a detour. She could clearly see hostile gazes lurking in the darkness and slip past them before they could react.

Ten minutes. A journey that used to take half an hour—she completed it in less than ten minutes.

When the crooked, shabby little wooden house appeared in her sight, Sylvia could hardly believe her eyes.

She stopped, breathing heavily. Even as a half-vampire, such intense running was still quite taxing for her.

She had finally come home. Were her daughters still inside? Were they still awake? Had they been harassed by blood clan soldiers? Or worse?

She forced herself to push down those chaotic thoughts and hurried toward the thin wooden door.

The door hung crookedly. The bolt had long been broken, and the board bore obvious cracks and dents—clear traces left when the two blood clan soldiers had forced their way in.

The night wind of the Demon Realm whistled through the gaps, letting out faint, mournful cries.

Sylvia’s heart felt as if it had been stabbed.

How long had her daughters been waiting like this… in a house full of drafts?

She reached out carefully, trying not to make any noise, and pulled the crooked door panel back into place. She attempted to align the broken bolt and fix it as best she could.

Only then did she gently push open a narrow gap and slip inside sideways.

The room was pitch black.

But for her now, darkness was no longer an obstacle. Her gaze pierced through the thick gloom and saw everything clearly.

In the corner that served as their bed, covered with dry grass and tattered blankets, two small figures were huddled tightly together.