Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 454: Vampire taking a bath.

Amelia led Elizabeth through the silent corridors of the Ainsworth mansion with calm, steady steps, one hand discreetly supporting the vampire’s elbow to ensure she didn’t falter. The east corridor was different from the rest of the house—more secluded, more isolated from the main flow. The walls were lined with polished dark wood, carved with almost imperceptible patterns that, to untrained eyes, seemed merely decoration. But Elizabeth felt it. Each carving carried magic. Protection. Ancient seals against physical and spiritual invasions.

The lighting was soft, emanating from crystal lamps attached to the walls, whose golden light warmed the room without hurting her sensitive eyes. It was strange to walk there. Too strange not to be running. Not to be fleeing. Not to be hearing footsteps behind her.

She only realized she was holding her breath when Amelia spoke gently:

"You can breathe. No one will attack you here."

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, almost embarrassed.

"I’m sorry. I... I think I’m still waiting for something to happen." "That’s normal," Amelia replied. "Your body is still on high alert."

They stopped before a double door, white with discreet gold details. Amelia lightly touched the doorknob, and a rune glowed beneath her fingers before fading, opening the door.

The room was spacious, but not excessively ostentatious. There was a large window with heavy, dark wine-colored curtains, currently drawn. A thick carpet covered much of the floor, and an unlit fireplace occupied one of the walls. The bed, positioned in the center, was large, with a light canopy and translucent curtains tied at the sides. Light-colored sheets, seemingly recently changed, were impeccably spread.

Elizabeth entered slowly.

Her steps lost strength when her eyes landed on the bed.

She said nothing.

She simply walked towards it, as if approaching something sacred.

She sat on the edge first, carefully—almost suspiciously—as if expecting it to disappear. When the mattress yielded under her weight, soft, supporting her comfortably, her shoulders relaxed involuntarily.

She brought one hand to the fabric of the sheets.

It was soft.

Clean.

It smelled of light, fresh herbs.

Elizabeth slid her fingers over the fabric, almost incredulous, and then... sat up completely, letting her body sink a little further.

The sigh that escaped her was involuntary.

Amelia watched in silence.

That reaction said more than any account of escape.

Elizabeth lay down slowly, as if testing the limits of that softness. The mattress enveloped her in a way her body clearly wasn’t used to. Her muscles, tense for days, yielded an inch at a time.

She closed her eyes for a second.

And when she opened them again, there was something different there.

Vulnerability.

"I... I’ve never slept in anything like this," she admitted softly, almost ashamed. "Not even when I was in the palace."

Amelia tilted her head slightly.

"Wasn’t Liza... given to excessive luxuries?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

"The palace was grand. But I wasn’t." A small, humorless smile appeared on her lips. "I had a room. It was enough."

Amelia sighed softly.

"It seems you’ve been through a lot of hardship."

Elizabeth didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes wandered across the ceiling, absorbing the silence of the place.

"When you run away...," she began slowly, "you stop thinking about comfort. You only think about surviving."

Amelia moved a little closer, maintaining a respectful distance.

"You can relax here," she said, with gentle firmness. "At least for now."

Elizabeth nodded slowly.

There was a brief, discreet knock on the door.

Amelia turned. "Come in."

A young maid entered, carrying a tray with glass jars and small towels. She gave a restrained curtsy.

"The bath will be ready in a few minutes, Lady Amelia. We added the soothing salts and restorative herbs you requested."

"Excellent," replied Amelia. "You will assist her yourself."

"Yes, ma’am."

Elizabeth sat down again, slightly tense at the maid’s presence.

Amelia noticed.

"She is trustworthy," she explained. "She has been with us for years."

The maid smiled gently at Elizabeth, without intrusive curiosity, only professional cordiality.

"Whenever you wish, I can help you to the bathroom."

Elizabeth nodded.

"Thank you."

The maid gave another slight curtsy and left to finish the preparations.

The room fell silent again.

Amelia observed Elizabeth for a few more seconds before speaking again, now in a slightly different tone. Still calm. But more direct.

"There’s something I need to say."

Elizabeth looked up.

"About Kael."

The name hung in the air.

Elizabeth immediately became attentive.

Amelia crossed her hands in front of her body.

"He can seem... harsh."

Elizabeth let out a small nasal puff, almost a suppressed laugh.

"Can seem?"

Amelia allowed a minimal smile.

"Yes. He can be too direct. Too authoritarian. Sometimes even insensitive."

Elizabeth fell silent.

"But he doesn’t make decisions lightly," Amelia continued. "And when he decides something, it’s because he’s already considered all possible scenarios."

Elizabeth looked away, remembering the firm tone: You have no voice here.

"He’s not trying to control you," Amelia added. "He’s trying to keep you alive." Elizabeth bit her lower lip lightly.

"I don’t like losing choices."

"I know."

Amelia took another step toward the bed.

"But, for now, you need to trust. Or at least... stop fighting every decision."

Elizabeth looked up again.

"Is he always like this?"

"When he believes someone is in real danger? Yes."

There was a brief silence.

Then Amelia said, with firm softness:

"Listen to what he says. Don’t contradict him. Don’t look for excuses to go against what he decides."

Elizabeth frowned slightly.

"That sounds... dangerous."

"It isn’t," Amelia replied with conviction. "With Kael, the danger is ignoring."

Elizabeth absorbed those words.

Amelia tilted her head slightly.

"Just do what he asks. Cooperate. And things will work out with much less pain."

Elizabeth remained silent for long seconds.

Then, finally, she nodded.

"I’ll try."

Amelia relaxed her shoulders slightly.

"That’s enough."

There was another knock on the door—discreet.

"The bath is ready, ma’am," announced the maid from the other side.

Amelia looked at Elizabeth.

"Shall we go?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath.

She looked at the soft bed one more time—as if wanting to memorize the sensation—and then carefully stood up.

For the first time since crossing the gates of that mansion, she didn’t seem ready to flee.

She was still weak.

She was still lost.

But there, between those protected walls... was the possibility of something she had almost forgotten existed.

Rest.

...

Steam rose slowly, filling the bathroom with a warm, fragrant mist. The bathtub was spacious, carved from light marble with silver accents along the edges. The water wasn’t just warm—it was at the perfect temperature to relax exhausted muscles without irritating sensitive skin. Tiny, light-colored petals floated on the surface, along with dissolved crystals of restorative salts that shimmered discreetly under the soft light of the lamps.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before stepping in.

Her reflection in the large mirror before her stared back at her—long white hair, now dulled by dirt and dried blood; crimson eyes that seemed darker than they should be; purplish bruises scattered across her arms, ribs, and thighs. Cuts that should have healed by now still marked her pale skin.

She hardly recognized herself.

The maid helped her remove her damaged dress with respectful, silent movements. Elizabeth thanked them softly, feeling a strange pang in her chest—not physical pain, but something harder to name. Vulnerability. It was difficult to allow anyone to help her. Difficult not to associate any approach with threat.

When she finally plunged into the water, the first contact drew an involuntary sigh from her.

The warmth enveloped her body like a slow embrace.

The muscles, which had been stiff for days, began to give way. The tension didn’t disappear all at once—it dissolved in layers, like ice melting under the sun. Elizabeth closed her eyes and sank a little further, until the water covered her shoulders.

It was... silent.

There were no footsteps behind her.

There was no smell of fresh blood being hunted.

There were no shouted orders following her.

Only water. Steam. And a pause.

The maid began to gently wash her hair, applying a soft essence that smelled of lavender and some herb Elizabeth didn’t recognize. White foam trickled down her long strands of hair, carrying away dust, dirt, and traces of an escape that seemed to have lasted a lifetime.

Elizabeth brought her hands to the water, watching it cloud slightly as the residue of the journey dissolved. It was strange how something as simple as hot water could seem almost sacred after days of running in the cold rain, hiding in abandoned barns, sleeping on hard ground.

She closed her eyes again. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

And thought.

She thought of Queen Liza.

The last time she had seen her alive.

In the red hall lit by tall chandeliers, in the tired, yet still gentle, gaze of the woman who had raised her. Liza always said that power wasn’t about brute force—it was about responsibility. About carrying the weight that others couldn’t.

So why was the weight crushing everything now?

Why were they calling her filthy blood?

She had never fully understood what it meant. She only knew it was an old label, used in times of crisis to separate, to divide. Vampires of "pure" bloodlines and those whose origin was considered... diluted. Impure. Wrong.

But Liza had never cared about that.

"You are no less for being born different," the queen would say.

So why were they now hunting her like a plague?

Elizabeth opened her eyes slowly, watching the vapor dance in the air.

And then her mind inevitably returned to him.

Kael.

The human.

No—not just human.

She could feel it. His aura was not ordinary. There was something dense. Ancient. Cold as eternal winter, but not empty. Not dead.

He had saved her without hesitation.

He had ripped off a vampire’s arms as if correcting a minor mistake.

And then... he had simply decided that she would live.

Who would do this?

Who would risk conflict with the Vampire King himself for a stranger?

She sank a little deeper into the water, feeling the heat penetrate to her bones.

He said he would give me his own blood.

The thought tightened her chest.

For vampires, blood wasn’t just food. It was a bond. It was an exchange. It was memory. Blood carried traces of essence, of power, of identity. Receiving someone’s blood—especially someone strong—could create deep connections.

She knew this.

He knew it too.

And yet he said he wouldn’t allow any bond.

How?

Elizabeth frowned slightly.

He spoke with such certainty. As if natural laws were suggestions. As if he could simply decide what would happen and the world would obey.

She felt a shiver—not of fear.

Of curiosity.

What does he want with this?

Protection? Information? A piece on the board?

She tried to remember his look when he said, "Because you need to live."

There was no desire there.

No ambition.

Not even immediate political interest.

It was pragmatism.

And something harder to define.

Responsibility.

She buried her face in her hands for a moment, letting the water run down her already clean hair.

Humans.

She had been taught to observe them from a distance. To understand them as a neighboring race, sometimes allies, sometimes rivals. But never... never had she been under their roof like this.

And there she was.

Being welcomed.

Protected.

Cared for.

By three humans who had no obligation whatsoever to do so.

Why?

Perhaps Amelia was right. Perhaps he simply couldn’t tolerate seeing someone marked for death unjustly.

But this was... dangerous.

For him.

For everyone in that house. What if the King found out?

What if the hunters tracked her presence?

She lightly pressed her fingers against the edge of the bathtub.

Perhaps I should leave before I cause trouble.

The thought came automatically.

But, for the first time in days, she didn’t have the strength to act on it.

The exhaustion was too profound.

The maid finished rinsing her hair and offered her a soft towel. Elizabeth slowly stepped out of the water, her legs still a little unsteady, but less painful. Her skin felt lighter. More like her own.

As she was wrapped in the warm towel, she realized something.

The feeling of being dirty wasn’t just physical.

It was accumulated fear.

It was guilt for surviving when others perhaps hadn’t.

It was the weight of being called a mistake.

The water hadn’t washed everything away.

But it had helped.

When she looked at herself in the mirror again, she saw a less broken version of herself. Still pale. Still weak. But no longer covered by the visible mark of the escape.

The maid helped her put on a light nightgown left on the chair—soft, comfortable fabric that didn’t constrict wounds.

"If you need anything, I’m at your disposal," the young woman said before leaving.

Elizabeth was alone.

The room awaited her just beyond the door.

She took a deep breath.

Kael would come later.

To give her blood.

Her heart—which rarely raced—seemed to beat a little faster at the thought.

She didn’t know if she feared the gesture.

Or if she feared what she would feel if she accepted it.