Free Web NovelChapter 248: Chapter 248: I Can Play for a Year_1
In the afternoon, at an apartment suite near Fireworks Alley in Silvertown.
The drawn curtains blocked out the afternoon sun, leaving the room dim. A phonograph played a melodious dance tune, and a man and a woman embraced in dance.
The woman’s movements were a bit stiff, but she still precisely followed the man’s steps. There was no excessive force or exchange of glances between them, yet each rhythm was matched intimately, as if they were born to move as one.
As the dance reached its climax, the man spun the woman around the small apartment suite. Her red dress billowed like a blooming flower.
Approaching the end, the man raised his hand, while the woman elevated hers and began spinning swiftly on tiptoes. She spun faster and faster until the final beat of the dance arrived, and her heels stopped their rotation with the last tap on the floor.
The woman suddenly leaned backward, stretching out her waist. At the perfect moment, the man reached out to support her back and leaned in close to her face, so close that their breaths could mix—if either of them had been breathing. It was as if they both held their breath in suspense.
Seconds passed, and the man spoke with composure, "You really are quite good; there are few who I’d want to dance with for three days straight. Your appearance and figure are just to my liking, and most importantly, your height matches mine perfectly. Dancing with you has truly been a joy. If there’s any regret..."
At this point, the man suddenly reversed the tenderness he’d shown during the dance, and with rough force, pushed the woman away, "It’s that I’ve already grown tired of you."
The woman collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, never to rise again. A fly, unnoticed as it entered the room, circled and landed on her face, crawling around before finally settling on her half-opened eyeball.
The woman had no reaction, not even a blink.
Because she was already dead.
"What a shame. Death can preserve your beauty but not the novelty you provided," lamented the man, his dark red eyes shifting towards the window, "Time to find a new dance partner..."
With that thought, a strong thirst welled up from deep within his throat—not just for a new dance partner, but for fresh blood.
The reason they didn’t feel each other’s breath when close was that neither of them breathed. The woman was a corpse, and the man was a vampire.
The man clenched his teeth, his eyes suffused with blood.
He craved fresh blood and a new dance partner...
He craved... murder! He wanted to kill beautiful women and preserve their eventually aging beauty in death, turning them into his collection.
A sinister and terrifying impulse took over nearly all his thoughts in an instant, and once it surfaced, it was difficult to subside.
Hunt in Fireworks Alley?
No sooner had the thought formed than he rejected it in his mind.
Enough of that, he was tired of those gaudy, common pleasures.
At that moment, what came to mind was the scene he witnessed atop the clock tower the evening before.
That day, he had sent Earl Martha Kayden to probe the Rose Iron Prison. But that waste of space’s scheme failed to capture the Warden Aiden Galahad, only managing to take a female prison guard hostage.
Using a hostage might have been a decent plan, yet to the man’s surprise, the female guard turned the tables and nearly killed the vampire Earl. freёwebnoѵel.com
Although it was just a brief glimpse from afar, there was no doubt that the female guard was of high quality.
Her appearance and figure were beyond reproach, but what was key was her tall stature and agile skills—the perfect flexibility... truly too suitable to be a dance partner.
Such a high-class dance partner should keep him entertained for a whole year without growing tired.
And that woman, with the ability to defeat an aristocratic vampire in close combat, must have some special bloodline.
Once transformed into a corpse that "the underworld" accepts, her strength from when she was alive can be preserved, and even as a reanimated puppet for battle, she would be incredibly valuable.
Too perfect... After seeing such first-rate prey, how could one suppress the urge?
He decided to make a move today, that very afternoon, she should still appear in the vicinity of the prison.
Having just made up his mind, the man faintly sensed an ancient voice emerging in the depths of his mind, "Grant me... the authority to ’reproduce’..."
"Ah, my indifferent god, you must be in pain, aren’t you? Is that damned goddess still eroding your consciousness?" he asked with concern in his voice.
He heard the voice of the death god he served, yearning for a new authority.
With a new authority, the death god could elevate his divine rank and finally free himself from the curse left by the goddess.
"Hurry... the task... stop doing meaningless things..." The voice sounded weak, like a dying elder.
The emissary could feel his master’s power waning over the past two hundred years, and even such divine revelation had become so faint.
"Please do not worry, my lord," the man said, lifting the corners of his mouth, "This time only, my indulgence is not without meaning."
The Harvest Mother Cult was destroyed by the joint attack of the witch’s gathering and the warden of Rose Iron Prison, Aiden Galahad, with the remains of the saint likely in one of their hands—or perhaps, divided between them.
From the past activities of the Harvest Mother Cult, it seems likely the sole authority to "reproduce" might also be in the hands of one of them.
If one wants to get their hands on it, naturally, they should start with the side that seems simpler to deal with.
Yesterday’s attempt was unsuccessful, but the strategy to attack Rose Iron Prison was correct.
Moreover, obtaining Ophelia Callado from Rose Iron Prison as a hostage could restrain that annoying ancestor’s minion...
Killing the female prison guard to add to his collection also provided the opportunity to assassinate Aiden Galahad.
Two birds with one stone.
With that thought, the man reached out eagerly, and his index finger suddenly transformed into a grey mist, wafting toward the woman’s corpse on the ground and seeping into the mouth and nostrils.
At the same time, a pitch-black rift appeared out of thin air behind the man, with countless pallid hands emerging from the depths of the crack, clutching the man and pulling him inside.
The man did not resist and naturally entered the "underworld" he had created.
The moment the door to the "underworld" shut, the woman’s body on the ground twitched twice, and the flies that had been boldly crawling all over her scattered in fright, taking flight.
The female corpse rose from the ground, her lifeless eyes regaining a spectral glow, with a hint of dark red shining deep within, and apart from an unnatural paleness, she now looked hardly different from the living.
"I can’t wait any longer," she said, her lips curving in a smile, identical to the man’s earlier.
