Pia—
Warfarin hit the floor face-first.
"...Uh."
Lucian stared, baffled.
A white-haired girl had suddenly shown up out of nowhere, looking like someone had wrung every last drop of energy out of her. She'd looked exhausted enough that he'd kindly offered her a piece of candy.
So why did she faint the instant she saw his face?
If you're going to keel over, fine—but couldn't she at least have lain down properly? Why did she have to splat?
Lucian muttered while scooping her up:
"You people at Rhodes Island sure have a thing for landing face-first."
He carried the pale girl to the bed beside Gavial's.
But before he could even pull a blanket over her, the white-haired girl grabbed him hard.
Her brows tightened, her voice low and strained:
"Grr... don't... I want... can't... nnnh~... no...~"
Lucian frowned. "Do you want it, or not?"
Her heavy breathing felt... suggestive. Not great for a man's mental stability.
Trying to be a gentleman, Lucian attempted to pry her hand off—only to realize her skin was burning hot, and she was absurdly strong.
And within moments, even in her fainted state, Warfarin's face flushed bright red and she began to hyperventilate like she was drowning.
Watching her chest rise and fall violently, Lucian panicked.
"Hey—you're not having some kind of medical emergency, right?"
He wavered, wondering if he should run out and get someone. Situations like this really made him wish he'd learned basic first aid.
Thankfully, salvation arrived right on cue.
"Stop her. Step away. Do not make physical contact."
The Empress Dowager of Rhodes Island, Dr. Kal'tsit, had returned to her domain.
Expression ice-cold as ever, she strode to Warfarin's bedside.
"In the next room. Cabinet. There's a white restraint suit. Bring it."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Lucian obeyed the professional without a shred of hesitation.
The moment he returned with the suit, Kal'tsit didn't waste a second.
Rip!
She tore Warfarin's clothes clean off.
Flawless pale skin seared itself into Lucian's retinas.
And even worse—it was the mature kind of black lace. Patterned. The adult kind.
Lucian spun around instantly. "Hey—what are you doing?! I'm still here!"
Kal'tsit snorted. "If you want her, feel free. She'll be more than satisfied."
Unbothered, the Empress Dowager stripped Warfarin completely.
Then she said, "Pick her up."
Lucian gawked. "No way—you're into this kind of advanced gameplay, Your Majesty?!"
Even he was shocked. This was way too bold.
But Kal'tsit was dead serious.
"Do it. If not, leave. And remember—you'll be the one who killed her."
"How is this my fault?!"
Lucian was beyond lost.
But Kal'tsit wasn't budging, so he followed orders.
He tried very hard not to think about Warfarin's smooth, overheated skin. He silently chanted calming mantras, picturing Croissant's doughy, starchy body.
...It worked. His mind went still, free of all worldly distractions.
Once he lifted Warfarin, Kal'tsit swiftly put the restraint suit on her, tightening the straps one by one.
Then she placed a breathing mask over her nose and mouth, sealing everything up—wrapping Warfarin like a well-secured dumpling.
And miraculously, Warfarin calmed down almost instantly, drifting into a peaceful sleep.
Lucian stared, impressed.
"What did you do? How does something this... extreme make her calm down?"
Kal'tsit washed her hands. "It mimics the dormancy posture of Vampires. It's part of their physiology. Being restrained actually makes them comfortable."
Lucian grimaced. "That's some innate masochism, huh?"
Feeling pleasure from being bound. That was some advanced technique—definitely not beginner-friendly.
And judging by how experienced Kal'tsit's motions were, this wasn't her first time doing it.
Lucian asked, "She's one of those legendary bloodsuckers, right? Why did she react like that?"
Kal'tsit shot him a cool glance. "You already know why. Because you're here."
Among all Sarkaz lineages, Vampires were the most infamous.
They survived by feeding on the blood of living creatures—and were prone to losing control, attacking anything alive.
Even other intelligent races were just food to them. Naturally, they were hated.
Kal'tsit's voice remained flat. "Vampires struggle to suppress their feeding instinct. That primal drive is incomparable to the basic needs of other races."
"Appetite, sex, sleep—the usual impulses of most species. But for long-lived Vampires, their only biological need is appetite."
Her explanation was concise.
A starving human could still choose death over cannibalism.
A human could remain single for a lifetime and not explode. (And wouldn't awaken Originium Arts, either.)
But Vampires? They would explode.
Kal'tsit continued, "Once the hunger state triggers, their rationality collapses. That's why they're seen as monsters."
Lucian nodded. "Losing to instinct... yeah, that's rough. But what does this have to do with me?"
Kal'tsit snorted. "How strong do you think the lure of the Holy Son's blood is to a Vampire?"
She defended her colleague.
Warfarin wasn't some crazed blood-fiend. She was an exceptional hematology researcher.
As a long-lived Vampire, she was older than most Operators on Rhodes Island.
She only looked like a girl around Amiya's age. In truth, she was far past "legal." Nearly expired.
Years of experience had given her exceptional self-control. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't lose it.
But Lucian was not normal.
Kal'tsit said, "She's fighting the pull of an unknown blood source. Her intense reaction to your blood scent is proof of her self-control."
"Because she forced herself not to bite you, her body reacted in other ways... one of which resembles exhaustion."
"She truly did her best. But once she got accustomed to your blood scent, and then you—fresh meat—showed up right beside her, of course she broke."
Kal'tsit pointed at the breathing mask. "Blocking her sense of smell reduces her feeding impulse."
Lucian sighed. "So this is my fault, huh."
He couldn't argue.
He knew he was a delicacy in many people's eyes.
If the fact that his blood could treat Oripathy ever got out, the whole world would want a bite.
Warfarin simply wanted to "eat him" in a different sense—but the essence was the same.
Lucian didn't mind being desired by a pretty girl.
But the direction of the desire was... unfortunate.
Very unfortunate.