“U…ni?”
The first emotion I felt upon hearing Plona’s dreamy whisper was an overwhelming sense of relief.
“Plona.”
I can feel it.
Gratitude, sadness, regret, sorrow, and affection.
I catch a glimpse of Plona’s dazed, crimson eyes and the sharp fangs peeking from her slightly parted lips.
The proof that Knight Plona Moonlight is no longer human. The moment I captured those eyes, a flood of emotions poured out, as if the dam had burst.
“Sister… Oh, am I alive…?”
“You are alive. Yes, you’re alive, Plona.”
It felt like a lie that I didn’t feel anything when I saw Plona dying.
I tightly embraced Plona, realizing through the warmth shared between our bodies that I hadn’t lost her.
I already knew she had overcome a dangerous hurdle, and her warmth still lingered on my back, yet the surge of new emotions flowed like rain on parched soil.
“I’m sorry, Plona. You must have been in so much pain.”
“This isn’t a dream, is it?”
“It’s not a dream. It’s okay now. I’m sorry for the hurtful words I said earlier.”
Was it because Plona was no longer human, or because she now shared the same blood as me?
Not a single mental element that constituted Plona Moonlight had changed, yet my heart, which hadn’t stirred at the sight of her dying, now trembled at just locking eyes with her.
Blood calls to blood. Was that what they meant when they said blood is thicker than water?
Like when using blood magic, the pulse of true blood flowing through Plona’s body transmitted in real time.
Here I am, yet I find traces of myself in someone who is not me. That’s a strange experience.
Could it be this? Instead of figuratively calling her cute, I felt her as family in the literal sense.
At this moment, Plona was both my daughter who inherited my blood and my younger sister.
‘Have I gone mad?’
The feelings I held for my first kin were stronger and more special than I had imagined.
How could I have been so harsh to someone like her?
Just a few hours ago, I had done that, yet now it was incomprehensible, as if I had swapped out parts of my brain.
“Sister, sister?”
Thump, thump. The sound of Plona’s heartbeat reached my chest.
With each rhythm echoed back to me, an overwhelming affection for Plona surged, feeling oddly strange yet comforting and painful.
“I’m sorry, Plona…”
Undoubtedly, she must have been hurt. Looking back, she was the one who saved me when I was reborn into this world with nowhere to go, giving me the name Aria.
She never doubted me, and even after I fled from the Luminous Kingdom, she searched tirelessly for me.
Not to mention, it was Plona who laid aside her honor and beliefs as a human, even risking her life to save me.
Looking back at the past at this moment made me shudder.
How could I not feel sadness while she was dying?
And how was I able to say such callous words during what could have been our last conversation, claiming it was for my ease while using “honesty” as an excuse?
Still, to let her fall silent with a sense of apology instead of betrayal, I could have easily killed her with my own hands while draining her blood.
Even when Plona collapsed, even after I ceased drinking her blood, I sensed something was wrong, yet now I realized that the urgency I felt back then was far from complete.
Finally able to look back at that moment objectively, I was a being even I couldn’t understand.
I’m scared.
My emotions swinging between extremes felt like being sliced cleanly in half, and the fact that I couldn’t control it was terrifying.
What if next I end up hurting Eleonora?
Or worse, treating Plona as a mere tool now that she has become my kin?
The ominous thoughts swirling in my mind made my breath quicken. Bad ideas kept coming, and it scared me even more that I couldn’t confidently deny such possibilities.
“Sister. Don’t cry.”
Plona’s finger brushed my cheek. It was then I realized I was shedding tears.
“…Plona, I understand now.”
I still had the ability to cry. When was the last time I shed tears?
As far as I could remember, I hadn’t cried since awakening as a vampire. It was likely when I had howled for help from humans on the cold, stone floor of the underground.
Until now, I thought that was a sign of growing stronger.
I had believed tears were a symbol of weakness. As long as I could cut away emotions and hesitation, focusing solely on killing and stealing would surely lead to strength.
But that wasn’t the case. The power gained from taking life was merely a trait of the Progenitor of Vampires.
This ordeal made it clear.
Strength acquired by relying solely on one’s racial traits can never surpass those limitations.
The Progenitor of Vampires is an immensely powerful being with infinite growth potential, yet at the same time, a vampire cannot escape from the thirst for blood.
The stronger I became, the more I would be seized by that urge and lose my reason, leading to greater mistakes.
If I were to completely lose control and attack Eleonora, perhaps Stella might intervene, but theoretically, a day would come when I’d surpass her, and if that happened, the only welcoming sights would be two corpses.
That cannot be. I must not allow that to happen.
Unlike back in the day when I thought it was enough for me to survive, now I have debts of gratitude to repay, and there are those who wish to stand by my side.
For now, aside from Eleonora, I was in a relatively protected position, but all the more reason I must not let any harm come to them.
“Master.”
Eleonora’s tail hesitated, gently wrapping around my back.
It seemed like she wanted to pat my back, reassuring me that everything was alright, and I was endlessly grateful for that small, warm gesture.
I placed my hands on Plona and Eleonora’s heads, lightly stroking them.
Plona looked a bit surprised, but soon, like a cat waiting for its caretaker’s touch at the orphanage, she closed her eyes to enjoy a brief moment of peace.
Yes, a weapon that can injure its wielder is meaningless. A proper weapon should only be able to strike the foe it intends to.
Power I cannot control does not belong to me. I am the Progenitor of Vampires, and while I will not deny that, it cannot be my only identity.
I am me. I have the powers of a vampire, but the vampire’s instincts must not dominate my will.
From now on, I will face everything and grow stronger.
Instead of being swayed by instincts, I will wield my power entirely with my own will. I won’t cut away or ignore anything; I will confront and overcome all challenges.
Even the vampire instincts cannot control me. My will and emotions belong entirely to me.
“Hmph, hmm.”
As I turned my head at the strangely unnatural cough, Stella stood there with a look that said it was time to stop this.
Isn’t it typical to just let it slide in such a mood rather than stir the pot with a cough?
If one can act indifferent no matter what, then that cough was one hundred percent intentional.
“There’s not much time left until dawn, is there something you should tell us first?”
Her maid’s tyranny felt both shameless and annoying, yet the words that followed made even me tense up.
Right, getting stronger and controlling the thirst for blood could all wait. I had a much bigger issue right now.
Sure enough, the moment I reluctantly took a step back to exchange words with Stella, Plona was observing her body with wide, amazed eyes.
Just moments ago, she awoke from a daze and rejoiced at our reunion, yet now that she’s regained her senses, she must be marveling at how she managed to survive.
‘If left as she was, she would undoubtedly have died from her severe injuries.’
Plona still didn’t know she had become a vampire.
If only she had at least known the date, she could have inferred from the absence of wounds that could not heal in mere hours that something had changed within her.
But as someone just now regaining consciousness, Plona had no clue how much time had passed since she lost consciousness.
“Plona, what are you looking at?”
“Huh? Yes, sister. I was checking how I’m feeling.”
But then she laughed, saying that there were no scars left.
However, the mixed expression of slight absurdity and unease on Plona’s face made me feel a bit perplexed.
The clearer her mind became and the more she examined herself, the more she seemed to realize that these weren’t injuries that should vanish so neatly regardless of the time elapsed.
With her hands clasped as if in prayer, Plona blinked her eyes.
Blink, blink. But only the cold night breeze passed through us, and nothing happened.
“Sister, I can’t use magic.”
Plona murmured in a trembling voice.
Yet, her wide eyes, colored with surprise as if she had suddenly received bad news, seemed to hold a duality; she wanted to deny it, yet it felt like she knew the answer deep down.
Those who have become vampires lose all aptitude for holy magic.
The fact that she attempted it now implies Plona must already have an inkling of the truth.
However, I cannot provide the answer Plona wishes to hear. I have a duty to convey the truth.
I had distorted her life, which was supposed to end with noble sacrifice, into something unrecognizable, and now I must confess my sins.
“Plona, I turned you into a vampire.”
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