After a long and grueling 20-hour journey by carriage, we finally arrived at the grand gates of the Levantes Estate. The moment we stepped down, we were greeted by a line of neatly uniformed maids and servants, their postures crisp, their bows deep and practiced.
Among them stood Countess Aria Levantes—the wife of Count Brad Levantes. She stepped forward gracefully to welcome us, a woman of elegance and striking beauty. Despite being 32 years old, she possessed the kind of mature allure that could turn heads effortlessly.
As she led us inside, I found myself admiring her from behind. The way her gown swayed with each step was hypnotic.
She is... a MILF, I thought shamelessly, sipping from my imagination.
We were shown to our guest rooms to rest and freshen up. Then, as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, we made our way to the ballroom for the debut party.
The event itself was lavish but predictable—an orchestra played in the corner, nobles laughed and gossiped under chandeliers, and servants weaved between guests offering drinks and hors d'oeuvres.
And then there was Nadine Levantes, the young lady of the hour.
She was... average. Perfectly polite and well-mannered, but clearly didn't inherit her mother's divine beauty. I stifled a yawn as the Count proudly introduced her to the crowd.
Still, she had charm. She greeted everyone with warmth and treated even lower-ranking nobles with kindness. I noticed Liza chatting with her not long after, the two of them giggling like old friends. Liza's social training seemed to be paying off. She covered her mouth when she laughed or smiled too widely—never showing her fangs. Good girl.
While nobles mingled and traded pleasantries, I allowed my eyes to scan the room with a different purpose.
Tonight, I'm hunting… not blood, but beauty.
There were many attractive noblewomen present, but one in particular caught my gaze.
She sat alone in the far corner of the ballroom, distant from the laughter and light. She had flawless fair skin, haunting green eyes, and soft blonde hair that fell gracefully around her shoulders. Her lips were delicate and pale, her figure slender and shapely like a sculpted work of art. Her aura was calm, but cloaked in sorrow.
As she sipped her wine, her expression gave the impression of someone who had lived through a thousand silent tragedies.
She was... breathtaking. Just looking at her made my mind stir with fantasies I couldn't speak aloud.
I mingled a bit and asked a few noble ladies about her. The whispers gave me a name and a tale: Emilia Shubert, Dowager Baroness.
At just 19, she was already a widow. Her stepson, the current Baron—only 21 himself—had a strained relationship with her and was pressing her to remarry.
But no suitor dared approach. Rumors of infertility followed her, as well as whispers of a mysterious illness and superstitious curses.
How delightfully tragic.
With a glass of wine in hand, I approached her table.
"May I join you?" I asked gently.
Emilia glanced up with surprise, then nodded. "Sure."
I sat beside her, letting my nose subtly analyze her scent. There it was—faint, but detectable. A sickness in her blood. Leukemia. No one in this world would ever diagnose it, but I recognized it instantly.
"I'm Ella Esklair. Viscountess of Ptere."
"A pleasure, Lady Ella. I've heard quite a bit about you."
"Hopefully only the good things," I replied with a small smile.
We exchanged polite conversation for a few moments. Then, I decided to speak plainly.
"I'll be direct," I said. "I can cure your illness... and I can secure your nobility, your safety. But in return—" I paused for dramatic effect "—you must surrender your body and soul to me."
Her eyes widened, her expression shifting.
"You're not... some kind of demon, are you?" she asked cautiously.
"No," I replied, perhaps a little too quickly. A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.
"You can remain here, shackled by illness, haunted by misfortune... or you can come with me. Be healed. Be happy. The choice is yours."
Emilia didn't reply right away. Her lips trembled as she looked down at her hands. "I'll think about it," she murmured.
"Very well," I said, rising. "I'll take my leave."
I spent the rest of the evening socializing with other nobles, but my thoughts lingered on Emilia—her aura of quiet sorrow, the beauty cloaked in despair.
---
The next day.
Our carriages were loaded and ready for departure. Liza stood beside me, elegantly dressed, and Merisa tended to the luggage. Tania was giving final instructions to the guards. Everything was in order.
As I stepped into the carriage, a voice called out.
"Lady Ella!"
I turned to see Emilia approaching. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
"I want to be happy..." she said softly, as if afraid the words might vanish if spoken too loudly.
I stepped out, held my hand toward her, and smiled. "Then come."
She took my hand without hesitation.
And together, we boarded the carriage, setting off for Ptere.
Another jewel had joined my collection.
Another soul had chosen me.