Episode 45

In the end, the night was ruined.

Rosanna glared down at the man who had ruined her evening stroll.

Had she not stumbled upon him, bleeding and slumped in a dark alley, she would already be near the seminary dormitories.

To be fair, her luck had been bad from the start.

The butler had left earlier in the evening to meet with the Crow Unit and receive updates on an investigation.

At the same time, she received word from an errand boy that Tanesia would be working late.

Vlad’s return was always unpredictable, and the servants had all gone home for the night.

She couldn’t leave Henry alone.

So Rosanna had no choice but to wait until someone returned.

By the time she finally stepped out, it was past midnight.

She was on her way to see Kyle when she caught a faint scent of blood.

A vampire’s instincts were naturally drawn to the scent of fresh blood.

Normally, she would have ignored it and continued on her way.

But this time, she couldn’t.

Because she recognized the scent.

That was how she found Raymond.

“Why are you lying here like discarded trash? Are you injured?”

“…It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

Raymond was gruffer than usual.

“If it’s nothing, stop reeking of blood. I could smell you from a distance.”

A short, bitter laugh escaped through his uneven breaths.

“…So you were drawn to my scent? You really are a vampire. Did you find the taste to your liking last time?”

He thought she had come to drink his blood.

Rosanna ignored his mocking words, kneeling before him.

“Because you’re a half-blood, your wounds won’t heal. That must be inconvenient.”

“This is normal. You’re the one who’s unnatural.”

Rosanna examined him up close. Blood was seeping from his side.

As a dhampir, it wasn’t a fatal wound, but it would need treatment.

“Who did you fight? It wasn’t a human, was it?”

“You don’t understand the words ‘leave me alone’, do you?”

When she reached out to lift his shirt and check the wound, Raymond slapped her hand away.

Like a stray cat that had never known human touch.

She had tolerated his behavior so far, but even her patience had its limits.

Rosanna’s expression darkened.

“You think I’m helping you out of kindness? If you die, your shop will close. Henry loves the desserts from Ruby’s.”

“You’re helping me… for your nephew?”

“Yes. So shut up and cooperate.”

She hoisted him up, supporting his much larger frame.

What a mess.

She had dressed beautifully to visit Kyle, and now her outfit was ruined.

She grumbled under her breath as she dragged Raymond along.

He watched her quietly.

Truly a strange woman.

A high-ranking vampire, the very embodiment of arrogance, now saving a dhampir for the sake of her half-blood nephew.

Even as a joke, it was too absurd to be believable.

“…Trying to look more human? That doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a mongrel.”

He had never lived with kindness.

As a dhampir, he was always rejected—by both humans and vampires.

Breeder had saved him, believing he would make a good hunter, but even after joining the Order of the Holy Cross, Raymond never truly belonged.

Most of his comrades were like Noel, openly hostile toward him.

The rest were indifferent—neither friendly nor cruel, just distant.

Even among dhampirs, there was no camaraderie.

They had all gathered for revenge, not to make friends.

Each of them had grown up despised, twisted by the hatred they endured.

Raymond had always been an outsider.

Until Rosanna.

She knew he was a dhampir, yet every time they met, she treated him as ‘Raymond’—not as something filthy.

Just Raymond.

And there was no trace of hypocrisy in it.

That was what unsettled him.

She was supposed to be his target. A high-ranking vampire meant to be hunted.

And yet, sometimes… he saw her as just ‘Rosanna.’

Whenever her name was mentioned in mission briefings, his chest tightened.

She was a dangerous woman.

Vampires were disgusting, vile creatures he despised.

And yet, she evoked other feelings.

It was a warning sign.

That was why, tonight, he had wandered the streets—sharpening his hatred.

He had hunted a vampire to remind himself of what they were.

His injuries were the result of a single moment of carelessness.

And now, she was here, fussing over him without knowing any of it.

Rosanna chattered on, completely unaware of the turmoil inside him.

“You saw the newspaper, right? The streets are dangerous at night. Someone as fragile as you could get caught up in something and end up dead. Be careful.”

“Mind your own business. Maybe you should be the one staying inside.”

Feigning concern for his target—how hypocritical.

Yet, completely unaware of Raymond’s deception, Rosanna continued supporting him.

Because of the difference in their sizes, it looked more like she was dragging him along.

“Ugh… This isn’t working. You’re uselessly tall like a scarecrow.”

With a sigh, Rosanna slung him over her shoulder.

“What are you doing—? Your eyes are turning red. Are you even aware of that?”

“It’s fine. Things are so bad these days, no one’s out roaming the streets at this hour.”

Since it had come to this, Rosanna put strength in her legs and sprinted through the darkness.

The entire trip to the townhouse took mere seconds.

Once inside, she practically threw Raymond onto the sofa in the parlor.

At this hour, such a commotion should have brought the butler running, but the house remained quiet.

He must still be out handling his business.

“Stay put and don’t move.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get medicine. If I leave you like this, your blood will ruin my carpets. So just lie there.”

After warning him, Rosanna left the room.

She fetched a basin of water, grabbed a towel, and rummaged through cabinets for medicine and bandages.

Since she had never done this herself before, everywhere she searched ended up a mess.

When she returned, Raymond was covered in cold sweat.

His previously shut eyes opened slightly as he sensed her presence.

Rosanna perched herself on the low table in front of him.

“Do you even know how to treat a wound?”

“I’ve seen and heard enough to figure it out.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

Raymond reached for the supplies, taking the medicine and bandages from her.

With practiced ease, he disinfected the wound, applied the medicine, and bandaged it.

“You’re good at this.”

“I was a merchant. Whenever we traveled across the continent, bandits were a constant threat.”

“Have you ever killed someone?”

Rosanna asked without much thought.

She was simply curious about the past he had never spoken about.

Raymond glanced at her, as if surprised by her interest.

“Asking about me now? That’s unexpected.”

“Have you?”

“Yes. Sometimes to survive, other times out of frustration.”

“That must have been… wait a minute. Didn’t you say you’ve never been in a fight?”

At the mention of what he had once said in the harbor town, Raymond scoffed.

“It wasn’t ‘fighting.’ It was combat to the death. Always ending with one of us dead. Being a merchant isn’t as easy as you’d think.”

A clever answer, skirting the line between truth and deception.

Rosanna let out an annoyed scoff.

“You’re surprisingly slippery.”

“It’s called a street rat’s survival skills. That’s just how it is for dhampirs. You should know that better than anyone.”

His calm expression stirred something in Rosanna’s gut.

Even though he wasn’t accusing her, it felt like he was pointing a finger.

As if to say—you know your kind is to blame.

That she shouldn’t pretend ignorance.

That her people had built their power by offering up half-bloods and their human mothers as sacrifices, as shields for lower vampires to take their rage out on.

That she had turned a blind eye.

And he was right.

Rosanna had never cared about the Elders’ discrimination against dhampirs.

She had no interest in the massacres of the past.

She only started to resent the injustice when she came to love Henry.

If Vlad hadn’t had a half-blood son, if Henry hadn’t been her family, she likely still wouldn’t have cared.

She took a deep breath, pushing down the disgust churning inside her.

Meanwhile, Raymond sat up halfway and removed his bloodstained, sweat-drenched shirt.

“I need to clean myself up. Hand me the towel.”

Rosanna was too lost in thought to respond.

She simply gripped the edge of the basin with white-knuckled fingers.

Raymond, noticing her clenched hands, dipped his own into the basin of water—

And then flicked it at her.

Cold droplets splashed onto Rosanna’s face.

“Ah! It’s freezing!”

“If you’re refusing to hand it over because you plan to wipe me down yourself, then hurry up and do it.”

“What…? Don’t be ridiculous! You think I’m here to wait on you?”

Rosanna, who had just been lost in thought, suddenly snapped, her irritation flaring out of nowhere.

Raymond had no idea what had set her off, but watching her openly display her annoyance was oddly amusing.

“You’re running your mouth just fine, so you must be healthy enough to do it yourself!”

She shoved the basin and towel into his arms and turned away with a sharp flick of her head.

Silence settled over the room.

The only sounds were the squeeze of a soaked towel and the soft rustling as Raymond wiped himself down.

“…By the way, did you give him the gift?”

“What gift? To whom?”

“The souvenir from the harbor town. You were planning to give it to the theology student, weren’t you?”

“I did. He really liked it.”

For a fleeting moment, Raymond witnessed something unusual.

This woman—haughty, indifferent, and born with an impossibly sharp temperament—melted whenever the conversation involved that man.

A completely unremarkable theology student.

What was so special about him?

What did he have that softened her?

Raymond simply couldn’t understand.

 

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