In the cathedral on the ground floor of Lichtenstein Castle, Lan Qi gave everyone a vivid, hands-on class titled:
“The Mummification Process Even a Three-Year-Old Could Understand.”
After having the priests carefully store away the blood they had drained from the Count, Lan Qi began assigning tasks.
First, the three merchants were in charge of crafting a coffin to hold the mummy, using the castle’s fourth-floor ironworks.
The clergy were responsible for “optimizing” the Count.
Lan Qi and the rest would handle preparations for tomorrow’s activities and meals.
Tonight, they would all need to stay up late and work overtime—but once the tasks were done, they could happily enjoy the holiday together.
Though everyone felt exhausted after such a long, full day, the thought of having four whole days left to play filled them with energy again.
“Blood… give me back my blood…”
Count Palocas’s voice rasped weakly, the sound like that of a skeletal addict in withdrawal.“See? Staying up late really is terribly harmful. Look at how much he suffers. Since Count Palocas loves staying up late, we’ll keep him company tonight to help correct his bad habits. As they say—he harms others, and himself too.”
Lan Qi sighed at the sight of the trembling, mummified figure on the ground.
Huperion bit back her words.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that the Count’s agony wasn’t caused solely
by lack of sleep.“Mr. Lan Qi,” the young merchant heir piped up, “since vampires are immortal, even if they stay awake indefinitely, they won’t die. So if we meet another vampire unwilling to adjust their schedule, couldn’t we just make them stay awake ten days or half a month? That way, they’ll eventually come to understand the importance of a healthy routine on their own.”
“Exactly.”
Lan Qi nodded in satisfaction.
As the saying goes: ‘Virtue has no constant teacher; he who embodies goodness may serve as one.’
It seemed the young heir had already grasped the true essence of moral persuasion.
“…”
Huperion looked between the two of them—one teaching nonsense, the other eager to learn nonsense—and felt that another “normal person” had been lost.
All afternoon, the merchant heir had been idling, barely saying a word. Huperion had thought he was the least affected by Lan Qi. Yet the moment he opened his mouth… he was already deeply infected.
Outside, the world lay in pitch-black silence. The castle’s courtyards and the distant forests were swallowed by night, their shapes outlined only by moonlight.
On the second floor of Lichtenstein Castle, in Room 202—where the Revivification Cultists were held—
silence reigned.
The air reeked of iron and blood. The once-luxurious decorations, the floor, the walls—all were spattered with stains of crimson, brown, and black, each color a record of suffering at different times.
In the center of the room, a small girl slumped unconscious in a chair. Chains and shackles bound her tightly, denying her any escape.
Her clothes looked as though torn by beasts; her shoulder was shredded, her once-white priest’s robe now soaked deep red.
All that blood came from her wounds—marks that bit deep into her flesh, etched with unforgettable agony. Her skin was pale as if eroded by winter storms; her thigh bore a festering gash, like a diseased red line threatening to burst at any moment.
At midnight, a cloud drifted past, letting a shaft of moonlight spill into the room, illuminating her face.
The captured priestess of the Revivification Church lay with eyes shut tight, as though even in dreams she endured indescribable torment.
Then—
From downstairs came faint noises: the clink of chains, the creak of wooden stairs, muffled voices drifting up.
Those tiny sounds became a key, slowly unlocking her consciousness.
Her eyelids fluttered. Awareness slowly returned through the haze.
She remembered—entering a shadow world called The Banquet of Villains in the Cathedral. Her role had been that of a vampire’s servant, tasked with betraying and killing the challengers, tormenting them with the cruelest mental and spiritual suffering.
And then…
And then—
She dared not remember further.
Like waking from a nightmare, she snapped her eyes open, the faint moonlight stabbing at her pupils.
Now fully conscious, every detail of the room pressed in on her: the chains biting into her body, the absence of freedom, the cold drafts, the burning pain of her wounds.
Her once-bright blue eyes now held only exhaustion, dull and lifeless.
Ikerite Academy—those beasts were capable of anything.
She tried to speak, but her lungs felt torn open; each ragged breath rasped like sand scraping in the wind. Pain itself seemed to seep out of her body, perfuming the air with blood.
“Damn… bastards…”
Her gagged voice was weak, broken, and unclear—but the venomous hatred in it filled the dark room.
Her face under the pale moonlight was rigid, like a dead statue.
Suddenly, footsteps approached outside. Calm, measured, deliberate—the unhurried stride of a victor savoring their last prey.
Without doubt, the vampire Count had come.
Hearing the sound, the priestess’s lips curled into a smile. Her head tilted back as she let out a laugh—sharp, crazed, blooming like a twisted flower in the dark.
She understood: her end had come. But at least with death, her suffering and humiliation would end.
Yes, she still feared those three priests terribly.
But knowing now that they were all dead—
Including that accursed Lan Qi Wilfort—
her heart brimmed with bitter satisfaction.
Lifting her head, she fixed her gaze on the door—the very door the vampire Count would soon open.
And strangely, she no longer felt any fear of him.
Click.
The lock turned. In that final instant, instead of dread, she felt release. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes—tears of bitter, peaceful relief—mingled with her laughter.
But the next second—
The door opened, and there stood Lan Qi, holding an interrogation record in hand, looking at her with mild puzzlement.
“Young lady, what happy thought could make you smile like that? Would you like to share it with me?”