In the vast mansion of the Hetlores, carriages stood lined outside the gates. A grand soirée was underway—men and women dressed in exquisite elegance, glasses of wine glinting beneath chandeliers. Among them stood Mrs. Hetlore, a woman in her mid-sixties with neatly arranged brown hair, accompanied by four ladies, one of whom was her own daughter.
"…Miss Floria, it is good to have you here. Thank you for coming," Mrs. Hetlore said warmly.
The woman addressed—tall, with shining amethyst eyes and long blonde hair—replied with a courteous smile. "It is an honor to be here, Mrs. Hetlore."
Mr. Hetlore was among the most respected men in the realm, both wealthy and influential, serving as one of the king's ministers. Being invited to a Hetlore soirée was considered a great fortune. Floria herself bore no ties to the palace; her acquaintance with Mrs. Hetlore began purely by chance, after she had once assisted her in the marketplace. Over time, familiarity grew, aided further by the fact that Floria also knew the her parents.
Floria continued politely, "I hope you are doing well now. The last I heard, you weren't feeling well—from Miss Cameal."
With a gentle smile, Mrs. Hetlore replied, "Oh dear, I'm quite well now. With Morvel here, everything feels settled. The physician says there is nothing to worry about—just old age catching up to me. I was expecting Mrs. Sapion, but she had to visit her parents. How are they doing now?"
It was true—humans were fragile creatures, bound by short lifespans compared to others that roamed the land. Morvel and Arial were the Hetlore children: Morvel, the elder, tall, handsome, and mature; Arial, the younger, indulged and spoiled.
"It was unfortunate," Floria replied. "Grandmother seems to be unwell, and the doctor has advised her to rest."
Despite Mrs. Hetlore's kindness, Floria remained guarded—especially around the spoiled younger daughter, whose sharp tongue was well known.
"So, Miss Floria, are you enjoying the soirée?" came the honeyed voice of the little snake.
"Yes, Miss Arial. It's wonderful being here with you," Floria replied with a composed smile—one that only irked Arial further. Floria had dealt with countless arrogant people like her, those who did nothing but look down upon others and take pleasure in belittling them.
"You children enjoy yourselves. I'll see you around," Mrs. Hetlore said, excusing herself to greet other guests.
Left alone with the ladies, Floria heard a sharp whisper. "I don't know what Mother was thinking, inviting such abhorrent people."
She knew exactly who the remark was aimed at.
The woman named Navoial laughed softly at Arial's words, while Floria chose to ignore the insult, responding only with a subtle smile.
Then, a new voice cut through the air.
"People of the same rung recognize one another. What do you say, Miss Hetlore?"
The words were sharp, spoken by a vampiress approaching them. She had brown hair and hazel-green eyes, and wore a magnificent peach-colored gown—heavy, richly woven, adorned with raised floral and scroll patterns. It was an ostentatious garment, one favored by the elite. And indeed, she was wealthy: the daughter of Duke Charles Montanore.
Arial's face drained of color as she forced an awkward smile. "Lady Salvia, good evening. It's an absolute honor to have you here," she said, hoping to brush past the words spoken moments earlier.
But the vampiress had other intentions.
"Good evening, Miss Hetlore," Lady Salvia replied coolly. "You're right—there are some abhorrent people here. What do you say?"
Floria felt the tension thicken as sweat beaded along Arial's forehead. The relationship between the vampiress and the young Hetlore was clearly strained. Vampires and humans were hostile by nature, yet this one lingered longer than most—unlike others who wouldn't even deign to converse, as if humans weren't worth the effort.
"Good evening, Lady Montanore. It's an honor to meet you," Navoial interjected, attempting to ease the atmosphere.
Lady Salvia regarded her with clear disinterest. "Do I know you, Miss…?"
Navoial flushed red. "Navoial—Navoial Spacer. A friend of Miss Arial, my lady."
The vampiress merely hummed in response.
Finally, as if bored by the exchange, Lady Salvia turned her gaze toward Floria. "Good evening, Miss Floria."
Floria was momentarily startled—she was certain they had never met—but she maintained her composure. "A very good evening, Lady Salvia."
The vampiress's knowing smile unsettled her. If she already knew her name, trouble would surely follow. "I've heard a great deal about you from Miss Glover. I look forward to being friends."
Natalie Glover—Floria's close friend. Never had she imagined that the Duke's daughter would associate with the daughter of a baron. Floria and Natalie had been friends for years; initially, Floria sought only to keep herself informed of royal affairs from a safe distance. But Natalie's kindness eventually broke through her guarded walls. Floria had heard that the Duke's daughter was generously righteous.
"Likewise, Lady Salvia," Floria replied carefully.
Natalie had warned her often—the Dukes were closely tied to the royals, and sweetness could be more dangerous than poison. Still, with the vampiress extending her hand, refusal would invite wrath.
The two excused themselves, walking together as Lady Salvia spoke. "Rest assured—they won't dare trouble you anymore," she said, smiling as though she had found a trove of gold.
"Thank you very much, Lady Salvia, for your help," Floria said sincerely.
The vampiress waved it off. "I've heard much about you from Natalie. I've been meaning to thank you for a long time."
Floria furrowed her brows, prompting her to continue.
"Natalie speaks of you often. I thought it would be strange not to meet someone she trusts so dearly."
That only deepened Floria's unease. She had never trusted vampires—nor any other creature, for that matter. Years had taught her one lesson above all: never trust easily.
Vampires were cunning, untrustworthy, and reckless—creatures with little regard for the consequences of their actions.