Chapter 14: A Play
Even the seasoned Shadow King Acanis found himself momentarily stunned.
In his eyes, Miss Weylin was undoubtedly a pampered lady. Even while injured and vulnerable, deceiving Acanis, she took the risk of being discovered to don herself in a set of extravagant dresses, refusing to compromise on her appearance.
It was as if the simple linen garments worn by common folk would scorch her skin as if they were holy water.
The cook, Weylin, exclaimed in surprise, “You’re here! Quick, before they notice!”
Saying this, the cook Weylin grabbed Acanis’s wrist and pulled him away forcefully.
The immense strength in her grip was what made Acanis realize that the cook before him was indeed Weylin.
Acanis stopped in his tracks, his legs stiffening: “Weylin, stop pretending; I don’t buy it.”
“My dear, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Weylin’s bright red eyes blinked at him, “Come on, I’ve secretly saved you some food in the kitchen; let’s eat at home.”
Home? Is home really in this mansion full of vampires?
Acanis initially swore he wouldn’t leave, but alas, the cook Weylin performed a miraculous feat of strength, dragging the stiff-legged Acanis away, leaving two dark marks on the ground from his shoes.
Thus, the cook Weylin hummed a foreign tune under the bright sun while dragging Acanis past the walls of the luxurious mansion, with window after window sliding by him.
Acanis turned his head and saw that behind the windows were elegantly dressed noblewomen and young ladies, toasting to each other, with dark-clad servants bustling between the tables, serving lavish dishes amidst what seemed to be a festive banquet.
Weren’t they in there?
“Such thoughtfulness,” Acanis scoffed, but his legs had relaxed and he followed Weylin: “Well acted.”
Weylin said nothing as the sky darkened, a cloud blocking out the sunlight.
A few women dressed as servants approached, and although they were well adorned, Acanis could tell from the thick grime on the wooden buckets held by the vampires nearby that they were indeed vampires, still living in luxury.
Their acting paled in comparison to Weylin’s, he didn’t know how to rate it.
Had Weylin been diligently learning how to be a cook under Jima’s guidance these past few days?
Acanis felt a stirring in his heart.
The leading vampire maid said, “Oh, isn’t this old John’s daughter from the kitchen? What kind of man did you drag in? He’s that cheap?”
However, her expression faltered, and there was no sarcasm in her tone, her eyes not daring to meet Weylin’s.
Weylin, playing the cook well, released Acanis’s wrist, placed her hands on her hips, and said, “What’re you yelling about? I’m taking my husband home; it’s none of your business.”
Acanis was shocked again; the raw accent and crude tone were completely different from the gentle Weylin he had known.
Those who had experienced the struggles of the lower class spoke like this. Weylin truly seemed like a real cook.
“What of having a home? Are we not allowed to bring a man back to fool around with, to sell ourselves, huh?”
Cook Weylin, like a shrew, leaned forward and shouted, “Damn it, the house is mine! I’m bringing my husband back, and that’s that!”
“What’s all this ruckus, you shameless servants?”
Another voice cut in.
Acanis looked toward the source of the voice and nearly laughed out loud.
There stood Jima, surrounded by several stunning vampire maids, walking slowly with a parasol held up by a bloodline maid. She held her chin high, not even glancing at them, portraying a spoiled young lady perfectly.
The one who spoke up was a bloodline maid in front of her.
She whispered to Jima, “Miss Jima, they are arguing.”
Cook Weylin quickly shouted, “Miss, I’m going home with my husband; they’re slandering me as a harlot. You must stand up for me!”
Meanwhile, the vampire maids pretending to be antagonists spoke in much quieter tones: “Miss, where did she get a husband? Clearly, she’s treating your house as a brothel.”
Jima paused, lazily casting her eyes over to them, one hand resting on the shoulder of a vampire maid beside her, while the other swiftly opened a folding fan, saying, “May I ask, are you the husband who works in the kitchen?”
Weylin blinked her red eyes, filled with hope, looking at Acanis.
What the hell!
Acanis had initially thought to break this dreadful act apart.
But then he reconsidered. He needed to kiss her and get the Star of Hope into Weylin’s mouth; he might as well play along for a bit.
He replied, “Yes, my esteemed lady.”
“Since I’ve rewarded her with a room, she can do whatever she wants,” Jima snapped the fan shut, directing her finger at the group of maidens: “You all, go get your hands slapped!”
Amidst the pleas for mercy from the maids, Jima strutted away, headed for the banquet.
Weylin took Acanis’s hand, her steps light, her face beaming with joy as she said:
“Miss Jima is a generous person. I made her a pot of soup, and she was very happy, specifically rewarding me with a storeroom as a house. Now we have a place to live.”
As Acanis followed her through the vast mansion, turning left and right, after passing through several doors, they arrived at a row of red-bricked houses, stopping in front of a dilapidated wooden door.
Weylin took out a simple key, turned it in the lock, and light streamed in, dimly illuminating the dark space, a few flies buzzing through the slanted beams of light. The floor was packed dirt, dark, and uneven.
Against the wall was a bed, and in the center was a wooden table, its leg propped up by a piece of wood, and next to it were a few crudely made stools. That was all the furniture.
The air was scented with food, and cook Weylin walked to the wooden table, lifting a bamboo-woven cover that was very old and yellowed.
“Hurry and eat while it’s still hot,” Weylin said as she removed the cover.
Acanis looked in and saw only three dishes. A terracotta bowl contained boiled beans and wild greens, while a wooden platter held scraps of chicken and lamb, clearly pilfered by Weylin from her kitchen position, along with two pieces of black bread.
In a moment of daze, Acanis truly felt a sense of homecoming.
Despite the smallness and dimness of the place, which necessitated keeping the door open for light even for a meal, it was the only safe harbor, and the cramped space paradoxically gave a sense of security.
Sitting on the low stool, Acanis picked up the warm black bread, tore a piece off, revealing a pea within.
This was normal; the poor had no luxury of flour to make black bread, usually adding random bits like peas, which were common.
He dipped the torn bread into the soup and chewed on it.
The taste was bland, likely seasoned only with salt.
Weylin, sitting across from him, asked, “Is it good?”
Acanis relaxed and replied, “It’s good; you should eat too.”
“Good is good,” Weylin said, also tearing off a piece of black bread. A few cooked peas fell from the bread onto the table.
Weylin immediately set the bread down, picked up the peas, brushed off the dust, and chewed them.
Acanis’s eyes misted over, saying, “Now that we have money, there’s no need to be so stingy.”
“Not a chance!” Weylin replied, “I bought these fine peas with three copper coins from the kitchen. They’re fit for nobles.”
With that, Weylin passed him a bowl of bean sauce and asked, “Would you like some?”
“Yes.”
Acanis scooped a spoonful, spread it on his bread, and continued eating heartily. Weylin joined in, not leaving a scrap, as if she could derive nourishment from such paltry food.
Not far away.
Behind the window.
Jima set down her crystal telescope and said, “Thank you all for your hard work; things are looking up.”
The bloodline maids exchanged meaningful glances with Jima and replied, “Things are looking up.”
“Hey, why are you all gathered here?”
The bloodline maid responded, “The act needs to be convincing, Mistress Jima.”
Jima smiled, and the bloodline maids smiled back, sharing a knowing look.
“Come here, servants,” Jima said from her walnut high-backed chair, lifting a leg from under her skirt, “Hurry, come give my feet a massage.”
The bloodline maid pulled her protruding fangs back and said, “Of course, my mistress.”
With that, she eagerly approached to massage Jima’s leg encased in black stockings, both hands feeling the charming girl’s calf, thinking about how to break her leg afterward.
Meanwhile.
On the other side.
The two playing the impoverished couple finished their “feast” in under ten minutes.
After eating, Acanis watched Weylin as she collected the dishes, placing them into a wooden bowl, drawing water from the cistern to wash them repeatedly, but inevitably using a dark cloth to scrub the dishes. As she washed, she chatted with Acanis about their daily lives.
You spoke your piece, I spoke mine.
It was as if they were truly a poor couple residing there.
Acanis touched the Star of Hope tucked in his secret pocket and looked at Weylin, who was busy washing the dishes.
“Finally done washing?” Weylin set the dishes aside.
Acanis hugged her from behind, saying, “Weylin.”
Weylin said nothing but turned around, her eyes warmly gazing at him, and they kissed.
Acanis held her tightly, feeling empty inside, devoid of the Star of Hope after their kiss.
Acanis quickly said, “Weylin, this is a trap; you must escape!”
Weylin’s eyes lit up, asking, “Are you saying you want to be with me forever?”
“Huh? I’m saying this is a trap.”
Weylin eagerly tugged off her headscarf, her silver-white hair cascading down as it shook loose, the dust scattering, and her hair returning to its smoothness.
The dark linen dress and apron burst open, revealing a silk gown underneath.
She embraced Acanis tightly, her arms like iron, declaring, “You are mine now.”
“What?”
Weylin’s eyes sparkled with uncontainable excitement: “I know you love me too; that’s enough, my dear husband.”
Her voice and tone reverted to their gentle form.
But Acanis’s hair stood on end, realizing his foolishness: Weylin didn’t need his consent; as long as she believed he loved her, she would feel justified in unleashing all her madness.
Yet once in Weylin’s embrace, he found it impossible to escape.
Weylin laughed joyfully, holding Acanis, and, with a flash of her form, leapt out of the door, crashing through a window, landing right in front of “Miss Jima” and her group of vampire maids.
“Weylin!” Jima barked, “We’re at the final step; how can you not continue the act?”
Saying this, her gaze shot angrily at Acanis.
Acanis immediately understood she was blaming him for not stuffing the Star of Hope into Weylin’s mouth.
“You’re useless now,” Weylin raised her pristine arm, fingers splayed, a crimson light bursting from her palm.
The demoness Jima’s pupils widened, and a cloud of smoke exploded, replacing her with a poorly made puppet.
“Trying to run?”
Weylin lifted her hand into a fist and yanked it down forcefully.
Nearby, in the air, the demoness Jima appeared, being pulled toward Weylin, who swung her hand hard.
The demoness Jima screamed, bending her body as she flew out through the broken window, crashing into the room used for the act, shattering the table they had dined at earlier.
Acanis yelled, “Damn! I really should have cut off your head sooner.”
Weylin shouted, tightly gripping Acanis’s arms: “You can’t bear to part; hurry and search him for everything he has.”
“Yes.”
The vampire maids swarmed forward, their hands rummaging through Acanis’s body.
“Ah! So hot!”
One maid pulled out the Star of Hope, retracting her hand quickly and dropping it on the ground. Another maid took out a specially made bag and put the Star of Hope inside.
“My dear husband,” Weylin’s cheeks flushed with excitement: “I knew this was a murder plot; someone leaked it. Congratulations, you passed the test; from now on, you’ll always be with me.”
Acanis cursed under his breath, “*&&@#￥&%&&*.”
“Alright, everyone, prepare to start a massacre under my command.”
As soon as Weylin’s words fell, the heavy clouds outside covered the sun, blocking all sunlight.
The vampires revealed their fangs, excitement running high.
Weylin, still holding onto Acanis, turned to the bloodline maids and said, “You go kill the demoness; this is solely your honor. Hurry, otherwise she may die from her injuries.”
The bloodline maid said excitedly, “Yes, my true ancestor.”
She had long wanted to kill Jima, the traitor, and this demoness was both beautiful and arrogant, even calling her in for massages!
The bloodline maid dashed out of the window, rushing toward the room to kill demoness Jima.
Outside, the Imperial forces finally sensed something was amiss.
Strong light pollution erupted nearby, causing the mansion to tremble.
Weylin grabbed Acanis and said, “Let’s charge out together.”
With that, she leapt out.
Outside, the Empire consisted of a group of bald Sigma priests and battle-hardened guards led by Rick, charging toward the mansion under Walker and George’s command.
Weylin held Acanis with one hand, rushing towards George and Walker, fighting them evenly, even gaining the upper hand against both, all while maintaining the dark clouds in the sky and draining them of necromantic magic to blast the remaining humans.
Despite the Imperial side having a numbers advantage, they began to gradually retreat, suffering heavy casualties and barely holding out until reinforcements arrived.
“In the name of Sigma!” Walker bellowed, every chest hair grown to combat evil: “Forget the true ancestor; let her go and prioritize exterminating that pack of vampires.”
Acanis screamed, “Help me!”
Walker declared solemnly, “In the name of Sigma, it’s your turn to sacrifice.”
Acanis looked at George and shouted, “Valiant hero of justice!”
George replied, “Sorry, I can’t afford that kind of justice.”
With that, he made way, swinging his golden sword to attack the vampire maidens.
Weylin said, “We will be together forever.”
Acanis sighed and asked, “Weylin, can I kiss you one last time?”
“Ah?”
Weylin looked at Acanis in amusement.
“I just suddenly had an idea.”
Weylin smiled: “You can be close to me whenever you like; you are my most beloved husband.”
Acanis leaned in, and they kissed right in the center of the battlefield, before the knights and vampires engaged in combat.
Acanis pushed his tongue in, shoving the Star of Hope into Weylin’s mouth.
Weylin’s blood-red eyes widened, surprised by how the Star of Hope returned to Acanis when she hadn’t noticed; was it stolen? He had been in her grasp the whole time.
A burst of white light exploded in her mouth, scorching her cheeks, which turned to ash, revealing two rows of pristine white teeth, smoke curling between them.
Acanis took the chance to slip away.
“No!!! My Acanis!” Weylin roared like a beast, swinging her hand to strike at Acanis, aiming to incapacitate him.
After Acanis took a solid hit, he disappeared into the shadows.
The unrelenting Walker saw Weylin in this state and shouted, “What ancient evil still lives? Watch me seal you forever in the name of Sigma!”
At this moment, Weylin looked terrifying; sensing the imminent danger, she fought fiercely against the encirclement.
As she was wounded, it became impossible for her to maintain the dark clouds. The clouds above the Empire finally dissipated under the spellcasting of the city’s mages. They breathed a sigh of relief; the situation had truly frightened them—so many mages casting spells together, unable to overpower one person.
As the clouds cleared, brilliant sunlight poured down, illuminating the vampire maidens, with some of the not-so-ancient ones bursting into smoke and screaming:
“Ahhhhhh!”
“Why scream so loudly? As beauties, can’t you die a little more gracefully? This dimensional bag is such a mess; I should hand it to George to clean up properly.”
While Jima fished through her dimensional bag, pulling out a precious makeup mirror, she looked up and caught the gaze of the bloodline maid.
The bloodthirsty “branch axe gun” had pierced her; it was the work of the bald Sigma. She had bled dry, her once-beautiful face withered, resembling a ninety-year-old woman. Yet she still hadn’t died.
“Oh, now you look as ugly as an old woman. I’m sorry, I forgot you’d become ugly without blood. But keeping the bald Sigma around is too much of a burden on me; let’s understand each other.”
Jima said, directing the makeup mirror at the bloodline maid: “You look so ugly now.”
The bloodline maid was on the brink of death but couldn’t help glancing at the mirror, which reflected none of her image.
Jima sighed: “I forgot that mirrors can’t reflect a vampire’s form; I can only describe it in words. You’re now a skin stretched over bones, your face lined like a three-year-old sun-dried rat corpse.”
Furious, the bloodline maid slowly lifted her hand, attempting to strangle Jima.
“And you were easily countered.” Jima basked in the pain energy emanating from her: “Because I was never injured, this has all been a setup. Weylin and I agreed, and you nearly spoiled it, right? Getting her to write that personal letter to you was my idea.”
“How could I ever want to harm Weylin? You know how powerful she is; one must continuously ally with the strong to survive…”
The wave of pain energy surged into Jima, and with a cry, the dying bloodline maid managed to muster her final strength to lunge at Jima. But Jima merely raised her hand, using her “simulation” ability to mimic Jenna’s low-level skill.
A flash of white light erupted; this holy power could only singe a skull, but it proved the last straw for the camel.
The bloodline maid dissolved into dust midair, falling to the ground.
Jima placed her hand near her ear and listened: “The battle is still ongoing outside; I might as well fish for something.”
With that, she reached into her dimensional bag and accurately fished out roasted watermelon seeds, munching away.
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Five thousand three hundred characters, seeking monthly votes for next month.
