Arthur’s vision blurred for a moment.

The alley tilted, then snapped back into focus. His thirst for blood was climbing higher and higher, clawing at his throat, scratching at his sanity.

He tried to control himself, fingers digging into his own arms.

’I can’t lose it here... not now...’

"...So this is where you were."

A voice floated in from the entrance of the alley.

Arthur forced his eyes to focus on the source.

A girl with silver hair and violet eyes walked toward him, boots splashing lightly through puddles of dried and fresh blood.

Jasmine Cael Ashford—the First Princess of the Ashford Empire.

She was wearing a sleek black combat suit instead of her usual dress. The suit hugged her body closely, segmented with flexible armor plates along her waist, shoulders, and thighs. It showed off every line of her figure—long legs, narrow waist, all the right curves shaped by combat rather than fashion.

Arthur’s jaw clenched.

"Fuck... whoever you are," he said hoarsely, "you’d better get the hell away from me right now..."

System notifications flickered in his vision, but he ignored them.

[ System Notification ]

[ Host Condition: Severe Blood Deprivation detected after using Blood Domain. ]

[ Effect: Loss of voluntary restraint likely. ]

Arthur pushed himself to his feet.

His body trembled, knees nearly buckling again, but he turned away from Jasmine and tried to walk past her, deeper into the alley, away from the sound of her heartbeat.

Jasmine’s eyes narrowed.

She stepped forward and grabbed his wrist.

"What’s with that attitude?" she said. "I’m only here because Miss Yuna has been trying to find you like crazy."

She huffed.

"And after what she’s done for all of us, I’m here to help her too."

Arthur didn’t answer.

Jasmine frowned.

"Hey, what happened? Why aren’t you saying anything? Normally you never shut up."

Another soft notification pinged at the edge of Arthur’s awareness.

[ System Alert: Nearby optimal blood source found for emergency recovery. ]

"Are you not feeling well or something?" Jasmine asked. She hesitated, then added, "Listen, I wanted to thank you for saving my mother earlier. And right now seems like a good time—"

She kept talking.

And talking.

And talking.

Each second that passed was like pouring fuel over the fire inside Arthur.

The hunger inside him was on the brink of exploding.

Her scent—sweat, mana, a hint of perfume, and beneath it all the rich smell of blood—filled his nose.

Without warning, Arthur moved.

He grabbed Jasmine and pulled her toward him.

His arms wrapped around her, hugging her tightly, his body pressing firmly against hers.

Jasmine’s entire face turned scarlet.

"W-what are you doing?!" she yelled. "Release me this instant! Just because I said nice things to you doesn’t mean you can get physical, okay?!"

Arthur didn’t answer.

He lowered his head.

He inhaled.

His nose brushed against the skin of her neck as he breathed in her scent again and again.

Jasmine froze.

"Are you... are you smelling me?!" she spluttered. "You pervert! I haven’t even taken a bath after all that fighting and sweating—"

She stopped mid-sentence, realizing what she’d just said.

"What the hell am I even saying... Get away from me before I start kicking your ass!"

Arthur’s voice came out low and dangerous, almost not his own.

"You smell good," he murmured.

Jasmine’s face somehow turned even redder with embarrassment.

She forced herself to take a deep breath to calm down.

"Looks like you’re hurt badly..." she said, still trying to reason it out. "Let me take you to the hospital—"

Arthur’s mouth opened.

This time, his fangs were clearly visible.

In the next second, he moved.

He bit down softly on Jasmine’s neck.

His fangs pierced her skin.

Jasmine gasped, a sharp sound of pain.

The sting burned for a heartbeat.

Then she felt it—her blood being pulled out of her with frightening, unnatural precision, not spilling, but flowing straight into him.

Her strength began to drain.

Her knees weakened, and if Arthur hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she would have collapsed on the spot. It felt as if someone had opened a valve inside her, letting her energy pour away.

Her instincts screamed danger.

Every alarm inside her body told her to fight back, to throw him off, to blast him into a wall.

She tried.

She tried to gather mana into her hands, tried to raise her leg to kick, tried to push him away.

Nothing responded.

Her limbs felt heavy, wrapped in invisible chains. With each passing second, Arthur’s grip felt steadier, while her own strength slipped further through her fingers.

System notifications blazed in Arthur’s mind.

[ Blood Absorption – Target: Jasmine Cael Ashford ]

[ Purity: Royal human bloodline – high compatibility. ]

[ Recovery Progress: 1%... 7%... 15%... 28%... 43%... ]

[ 60%... 78%... 91%... 100% ]

His exhaustion vanished.

The burning in his throat faded, replaced by a cool, focused clarity. His muscles refilled with strength, senses sharpening in a way that he could actually control now.

For Jasmine, the sensations blurred and twisted.

The initial pain dulled quickly, replaced by a deep, strange warmth that began to spread from her neck outward—down her spine, across her shoulders, through her chest.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

Her breathing hitched.

’W-what... is this...?’

Every pull of blood seemed to send a soft wave of tingling heat through her nerves. Her body felt lighter and heavier at the same time—weak, yet humming with an unfamiliar, almost soothing numbness.

She tried to stay angry.

To stay focused.

But slowly, against her will, another feeling crept in—a hazy, confusing pleasure that made her fingers curl into Arthur’s jacket instead of pushing him away.

Her cheeks, already flushed from embarrassment, grew even hotter.

Her thoughts scattered.

’This is wrong... I should... stop him...’

Yet her body didn’t listen.

The more blood he drew, the more her mind drifted, floating somewhere between discomfort and an unwilling, traitorous sense of relief, as if something inside her was being unraveled and smoothed out at the same time.

Her eyelids began to droop.

"B-bastard..." she managed to whisper, voice faint and shaky. "I’ll... kill you..."

Those were the last words she spoke before her consciousness slipped away—swept under by exhaustion, weakness, and that bewildering, unwelcome trace of pleasure.

But those last words she had spoken—weak, trembling, but full of spite—cut through the haze in Arthur’s mind like a blade.

His eyes went wide open.

He froze.