Reborn as a Vampire in a Dying World: Blood, Power, and Pleasure

It didn't take long for Corven to make his way back to Aisha—this time finding her in her study, buried in the usual flood of administrative chaos. She was seated behind a massive desk covered in stacks of paperwork, half-spent quills, and stamped documents. A small, luminescent crystal lamp hovered beside her, casting a soft white glow over the mess to help ease the strain on her eyes.

"You returned quickly," Aisha said, not looking up right away. When she finally did, Corven noticed the thin glasses perched on her nose—something new. They suited her, though it was clear they were more out of necessity than style.

She blinked at him, clearly not expecting to see him back so soon.

"Is this what you need?" Corven asked, raising the glowing vial slightly toward her.

Aisha stared blankly. "What…?"

Corven tilted his head, confused by her confusion. "Huh?"

Aisha's breath caught. The shock stiffened her limbs as if the weight of generations had landed squarely on her shoulders. "H-How do you have that…?"

"I got it from someone named Redwyn," Corven replied. "From the place you sent me."

The moment he spoke the name, Aisha shot up from her chair so fast it toppled over behind her with a loud clatter. Her hands slapped against the desk for balance, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You managed to decipher the secret!?"

Corven flinched slightly, caught off-guard by her reaction. "I thought you sent me there for that purpose!?" he replied, both arms raised like he was under arrest.

"I just wanted the crown!" Aisha shouted. "To prove you were strong enough to serve alongside me—tradition and all! Not to bring back something that priceless!"

Corven blinked. "I assumed that. But didn't you say the preparations were more complex?"

Aisha groaned and slammed both hands on the desk again. "Yeah! A public marriage and all those noble niceties! Not… THAT."

He held the vial between two fingers and gave it a light wave, eyeing the crimson contents. "So what does this thing do anyway?"

"Careful!" Aisha snapped. "You're holding the blood of a legendary vampire—the founder of not just Urzen, but the entire surrounding region."

Corven glanced at the vial again. "So… what do I do with it?"

He wasn't particularly concerned. Redwyn had already explained most of it indirectly, even if vaguely.

Aisha retrieved her chair with a frustrated sigh and sat down, rubbing her temple as if trying to massage out a migraine.

"If my memory's right… It's something from a bedtime story my father used to tell me. Something about the 'secret of the pact.'"

"So it didn't start with you?" Corven asked, easing himself into the chair across from her. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the desk, eyes locked on hers.

"No," she said plainly. "But I was the one who used it the most—especially when I had to stabilize Urzen after the chaos, and when I started building the undercity."

That alone contradicted Leywin's earlier claims, who had insisted the pact was exclusive to the current baroness. But after everything that had happened—especially Leywin's betrayal—Corven had learned not to take anything that man said at face value.

"But anyway," Aisha continued, "you're supposed to drink it. The blood. And evolve into… something else. Something special. Apparently it's ancient knowledge Redwyn experimented with before he died."

"I don't know the exact details. It's been centuries. I always thought it was just a fairy tale."

Corven nodded slightly and slipped the vial back into his coat pocket. "I'll keep it for now."

"I'd do the same," Aisha muttered. "Better save it for when you're in real danger. Could be a miracle. Could be poison. Who knows?"

Then she looked back up at him. "But… care to explain what happened down there?"

Corven's expression dimmed. He shook his head, the weight of something else returning to his mind—something older, unresolved. Despite everything he'd gained here—power, purpose, even a name—there was still guilt gnawing at the back of his conscience.

"I'll explain later… but can I leave for a while?" he asked in a low voice.

"It shouldn't be a problem," Aisha replied, eyeing him. "As long as you return before three days pass."

She gestured toward a stack of documents outlining Corven's official debut and public introduction to the citizens of both Urzen and Underzen—though the arrangements for Urzen were notably more intricate.

"Then I'll be taking my leave."

"Where to?"

"Personal reasons. And… if Rose comes back before I do, tell her I just went to settle something."

Aisha paused for a moment, then nodded with quiet understanding. "Your progeny, correct?"

Corven gave a faint nod. He didn't want to drag this out any further. As he stood, he offered her a brief smile and a small wave over his shoulder. "It won't take long. Just something I remembered I have to do."

With her approval, Corven didn't waste another second. He stepped out of the study and made his way through the compound halls toward the streets of Underzen.

Since arriving here, he'd been wrapped up in missions, trials, and political games—but in doing so, he'd allowed one truth to slip far from his focus.

A promise.

One that reminded him of who he was, beneath the fangs and newfound strength. Something that had once kept him human—despite what he'd become.

He emerged into Underzen's streets. They were as busy as ever, the city buzzing with the usual low hum of movement and murmurs.

But now, even his presence stirred attention.

"Is that the new baron?"

"I heard he scared off the patriarchs of Reduvian and Heist."

"Isn't he the one that destroyed Crestfall?"

"How the hell do you know that?"

The whispers followed him like a shadow, but Corven didn't care. If anything, he felt proud. He'd made a name for himself here—and that had been the goal all along.

As he approached the stairs that led to the city above, he opened the trapdoor leading upward.

Quentin was there—still seated, still reading the same book from days ago. Except now, it was obvious he wasn't just reading it… he was rereading it.

"Where are you off to?" Quentin asked, glancing up briefly.

"Somewhere," Corven replied. Then, after a pause, "And… I'm sorry about Leywin."

Quentin shrugged, flipping a page. "It's fine. We were barely acquaintances."

But just as Corven moved to leave, Quentin lifted a hand.

"But I'm afraid you can't leave yet."

Corven paused. "Why?"

Quentin chuckled, shutting the book. "It's still daytime out there. Unless you want to turn into a crispy corpse, I'd suggest waiting a few more hours."

Corven sighed, stepping back.

"In the meantime," Quentin added with a smirk, "why not grab yourself some more progenies?"

Corven raised a brow. "What made you say that?"

"You've gotten stronger since you first stepped foot in this city," Quentin replied, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. "I don't know how you did it, and I won't ask… but a vampire with your strength? You'll need help eventually."

He returned his gaze to the book in his hand, fingers tapping lightly against the cover.

"The undercity's filled with riffraff you can turn—no one would bat an eye. Or… you could visit one of the specialized places, if you want something a little more refined. Your choice."

Corven scratched the back of his neck. "You're unusually talkative today. And informative."

Quentin grinned without looking up. "Just making a good impression on our new baron. Comes with the territory—and my age brings a bit of wisdom too."