Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sharp rhythm of footsteps echoed through the courtyard, growing louder with each passing second. It wasn't just one person—it was many, moving in perfect coordination, their pace fast and deliberate.
Soon, a group emerged from within the estate.
They were all dressed in black suits, wearing dark sunglasses despite the dim lighting, each holding a parasol as if shielding themselves from something unseen. Their presence alone carried an unsettling uniformity, like a disciplined unit rather than individuals.
At the front walked a man who immediately stood out.
He had shoulder-length hair parted cleanly down the middle, the kind of hairstyle that would look ridiculous on almost anyone else. Yet on him, it worked. It gave him a cold, aristocratic air that only heightened his already imposing presence.
Ryan glanced at him once—and then did a double take.
Familiar.
Very familiar.
Recognition clicked almost instantly.
Klein.
The administrator of the vampire faction in Underworld, the one who managed affairs while the elders slept. A schemer who had once worked with the werewolf leader Lucian, only to end up with a bullet in his head courtesy of Marcus.
Not exactly a glorious end.
Ryan hadn't expected the vampire clan Dracula handed over to him to be this one. Now that he thought about it, though, it made sense. The story of that so-called Hungarian duke had felt oddly familiar back then.
Because that duke wasn't just anyone.
He was the origin.
The ancestor of both vampires and werewolves in the Underworld timeline.
By the time these thoughts finished forming, Klein had already approached the gate, stopping just beyond the iron bars. He didn't rush forward. Instead, he stood at a distance, studying Ryan carefully, his gaze sharp and assessing.
After a few seconds, Klein raised the ring slightly.
"This ring," he said evenly, "does it belong to you?"
"Of course," Ryan replied without hesitation.
"Then put it on."
Klein extended his hand, offering the ring back.
Ryan took it casually, slipping it onto his finger without ceremony. Then he spread his hands slightly, as if to say—there you go.
Klein's expression shifted, the tension in his face easing just a fraction.
"Open the gate," he instructed calmly.
With a heavy creak, the iron doors swung inward.
Klein stepped aside and gestured toward the interior. "Please, come in."
"Let's move," Ryan said, glancing back at Hank and Raven.
The two exchanged a quick look.
There were a lot of vampires here.
Too many.
Even standing among them sent a faint chill crawling up their spines, something instinctive that neither of them could fully explain. But then they looked at Ryan—completely relaxed, completely in control—and their unease faded slightly.
With him here, what was there to be afraid of?
They followed.
The group moved through the courtyard, heading toward the castle's entrance. The atmosphere grew heavier with each step, as if the air itself carried something ancient and oppressive.
"May I ask your name?" Klein's voice broke the silence, his tone neutral but probing.
"Ryan Cross," Ryan answered.
"Mr. Cross," Klein continued, "based on our records, I can only perform a preliminary verification of the ancestor's ring. Full confirmation requires the presence of one of our elders."
He paused briefly before adding, "So for now, I cannot formally acknowledge your… supreme status."
Supreme?
Ryan almost rolled his eyes.
The title sounded ridiculous, like something out of a bad fantasy novel. But beneath the awkward wording, there was useful information.
It confirmed his suspicion.
Those directly created—or marked—by Dracula's power stood at the top of the vampire hierarchy. Everyone else was, in some form, derived from them.
Which meant his position here…
Was absolute.
At least in theory.
Ryan didn't press the topic. He simply nodded once, acknowledging Klein's explanation without asking unnecessary questions.
"I've already sent word to the elder currently in power," Klein continued. "She should arrive within thirty minutes."
"In the meantime, you'll need to remain in the reception room. Please don't wander freely. Since you've come here, I assume you understand what we are."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"You can understand our caution."
Ryan didn't argue. He didn't care enough to.
Instead, he asked something else.
"Which elder is active right now?"
There were three elders in this clan, rotating power every century. One ruled while the other two slept.
"Emilia?" Ryan added casually, as if testing the answer.
Klein's eyes flickered with surprise.
This man knew far more than he should.
Some of his suspicion eased, though not entirely. Knowledge alone wasn't proof.
"You are well-informed," Klein said after a moment.
Ryan didn't respond.
Soon, they reached the reception room.
It was spacious, decorated with an old-world elegance that matched the rest of the castle. Klein gestured for them to sit, then instructed someone to bring refreshments.
A few minutes later, coffee was placed in front of them.
Though judging by the smell alone, it wasn't exactly high quality.
"Apologies," Klein said flatly. "We don't typically use these things. Guests are… rare. Human guests, even more so."
He glanced briefly at the cups.
"The machine was purchased out of curiosity. Do what you can with it. If you need anything, speak to Erika."
With that, he turned and left, his steps quick and purposeful.
He did, however, leave someone behind.
A woman.
A vampire.
She stood nearby, her posture relaxed but her presence impossible to ignore. She was striking—elegant, confident, and undeniably seductive in a way that made both Hank and Raven slightly uncomfortable.
Neither of them touched the coffee.
"Those really are vampires…" Raven whispered, leaning slightly toward Hank, her voice filled with curiosity and excitement. "Did you see their teeth?"
Hank nodded subtly, his eyes flicking toward the woman before quickly looking away. "Yes. Every single one of them has those fangs. And there's… something else. I can't quite explain it, but they have a distinct scent."
"A scent?" Raven frowned. "I didn't notice that. But they do feel… cold. And their skin—way too pale."
Watching the two of them analyze the situation like fascinated students, Ryan couldn't help but chuckle under his breath.
They had no idea how much stranger things were about to get.
Time passed.
Then footsteps returned.
Klein reappeared at the doorway.
This time, he wasn't alone.
Beside him stood a woman whose presence immediately commanded attention.
Her bearing was flawless, every movement refined, every detail of her appearance radiating aristocratic authority. She didn't need to speak to establish dominance—the air around her already did that for her.
There was no mistaking it.
Emilia had arrived.
.....
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