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Chapter 12: "Vampire Ball?"
As Pilea walked through the hall, the words Androsen had said to her last night echoed in her mind.
> "If you ever get entangled with another person again... I won't spare you."
Her brows furrowed slightly.
"He's simply being provocative on purpose," she muttered under her breath.
Just as she was about to turn, a calm but steady voice called out,
> "Pilea!"
She turned, her expression tensing when her eyes met the school council president's. Without a word, she turned to leave, but he quickly reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her mid-step.
> "Hold up," he said quietly.
Pilea's eyes widened, staring at his hand still wrapped around hers. She looked up at him and said softly,
> "Don't. Please, keep your distance from me."
He frowned slightly, obviously displeased, but didn't let go.
> "Yesterday, I could only watch helplessly as you were taken away. I couldn't do anything about it,"
he said, his voice laced with guilt. His gaze softened, sincere and full of concern.
"He didn't do anything to you... did he?"
Pilea looked down, avoiding his eyes.
> "I don't have anything to say to you."
But he wasn't ready to let go—not of her hand, and not of his worry.
> "I know what you're afraid of," he said firmly. "But I won't turn a blind eye."
Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his.
> "Why would you do this for my sake?"
He hesitated.
> "I…"
Before he could finish, Pilea pulled her hand away.
> "I'm sorry. I don't want to involve you as well."
> "Pilea—"
He began, but then he froze. His eyes widened as they fell on the faint vampire bite mark on her neck.
> "That wound..."
Pilea immediately covered her neck with her hair, adjusting it quickly before walking away without another word.
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That night, the driver dropped her off at the mansion.
Her eyes drifted through the vast, golden hall. The furniture gleamed with a regal glow. Her room was connected through a passage from the living room, every inch of the place dripping with wealth and cold beauty.
> "You're back,"
Androsen's deep voice broke the silence. Pilea flinched slightly, realizing she hadn't noticed him sitting there.
He was leaning back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, holding a glass filled with red liquid. His gaze was calmer than last night's.
> "Have you obediently kept your promise today?"
His tone was flat—deceptively calm, without a hint of what he was thinking.
Pilea nodded.
> "I haven't done anything that violated the promise."
Androsen set the glass on the table beside him, his eyes cool and sharp as ever.
> "Hmm. Come here."
Pilea hesitated but obeyed, stepping closer. Before she could speak, he suddenly pulled her onto his lap.
Her breath caught. Her hands instinctively rested around his neck, her wide eyes staring into his.
> "Is this how you treat your master?"
Her brows furrowed deeply, her green crystal eyes burning with defiance.
> You're not my master at all, she thought bitterly.
Androsen smirked, clearly amused by her silence.
> "You're unwilling to accept it, I see."
She looked at him, shocked that he'd twist the blame on her when he was the one at fault.
> "Just now—it was obviously you who—"
Before she could finish, his gaze locked on hers, unreadable and cold. She couldn't tell whether he was angry, pleased, or simply indifferent.
> "So what? You're my private possession," he said smoothly. "I do whatever I want."
He stood, taking her hand as he led her toward the terrace.
The night sky shimmered above them, stars scattered like diamonds. The wind swept through her hair, and for a fleeting moment, the world felt calm.
Androsen lifted her hand toward the starlit sky. His red eyes gleamed like burning rubies, the moonlight catching the sharp lines of his face. The soft wind brushed through his hair, making him look even more dangerously handsome.
His aura was still dark—but now, it carried a strange elegance. The crimson diamond on his earring glimmered faintly, and his touch, surprisingly warm, rested gently on her back.
> "Huh?" Pilea blinked. She had been so lost in admiring his face that she hadn't heard what he said.
> "The dance club," he repeated slowly. "A blood servant without the skill to please her master… won't do."
Pilea sighed, turning her eyes to the stars.
Before she could speak, Androsen pulled her closer and began to move—his hand guiding hers firmly.
She almost stumbled several times, but his grip held her steady.
> "Hmph. Such clumsy hands," he muttered.
After the fifth attempt, Pilea finally began to move in rhythm. Her steps grew steadier, more natural.
> "Not bad," Androsen said, his lips curving faintly. "You learn quickly."
> "When I was a kid," she murmured softly, "I used to watch Papa and Mama dance like this."
Her voice was low, tinged with sadness.
Androsen spun her gently. His movements were smooth, graceful, almost hypnotic.
> "This weekend," he said, "there will be a ball. And according to custom, one must attend with their blood servant."
> "Vampire Ball…?" Pilea's heart dropped.
Her eyes widened. She was already terrified enough being around one vampire. The thought of an entire hall filled with them sent shivers crawling down her spine.
Her body suddenly went cold, her skin pale.
Androsen frowned slightly.
> "What's wrong?"
> "I... I don't feel so well," she muttered. "I'll take my leave."
Before he could respond, she turned and ran.
Androsen stood silently on the terrace, watching her small figure disappear into the darkness.
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