Malakai, who was covered in sweat from training, paused his movement as he stared at the letter with a cold gaze.
‘Is it time already?’
He wondered if the Blood Sovereign was sending him on another mission. But as he saw the white letter, he calmed down slightly.
Letters from the Sovereign always came in blood red. It was a sign that they were to be treated with the utmost respect and urgency.
Nyx paused for a moment before answering.
“It’s from Mistress Khana, 9th Vein.”
Malakai frowned, approaching his maid and opening the letter. He read it in seconds, and as he did, his frown deepened.
The sound of paper folding filled the quiet forest as Malakai squeezed the letter before tossing it to the side.
“Ignore it,”
He said coldly before turning and continuing his training without uttering another word.
Nyx hadn’t been surprised. She had glanced at the letter the moment Malakai opened it and saw what was there.
Considering Malakai’s character, it wasn’t too hard to guess how he would react. She had heard whispers from the other maids about what happened during the dinner, and it was expected that Khana would try to get back at Malakai somehow.
She bowed before heading back to the manor.
The hours went by with Malakai deeply engrossed in his training, and as the evening came, Malakai headed back to the manor to freshen up.
However, his steps couldn’t help but pause as he saw the figure approaching him.
His manor rarely had guests, but today alone seemed determined to shatter that record.
As Malakai stopped, his brows furrowed, locking onto the approaching figure.
The woman stood out immediately, adorned in layers of colorful silk and gold jewelry that jingled with every step.
Her fingers were weighed down with countless rings, each encrusted with gemstones, and her heavily painted face glistened unnaturally in the fading light.
In her hand, she carried an ornate fan, which she lazily waved as though the world existed solely for her convenience.
Trailing behind her were two of Malakai’s maids, trembling with their heads bowed so low that they appeared ready to collapse. Their voices wavered as they spoke in unison,
“Ninth Vein,” they greeted before quickly stepping to the side as they came out into the backyard.
Malakai’s gaze remained fixed on the woman.
Khana.
The name alone filled the air with tension.
She was the wife of a Pulse, a position that granted her untouchable status in the Sanguine family.
Compared to her, Malakai, despite being a direct descendant, held no such authority in the family’s hierarchy because of his unevolved status.
Khana stopped a few meters from Malakai. She held her head high, an air of superiority radiating from every inch of her being. With a flick of her fan, she gestured behind her.
“Jorge,” she called out.
The guard standing behind her stepped forward, his head bowed low. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Did you deliver my letter?” she asked coldly, her fan snapping shut with a sharp click.
“Yes, Mistress,” Jorge replied quickly.
“To whom?”
Jorge hesitated, his hands trembling slightly. His eyes darted toward Nyx, who was somehow now standing silently at Malakai’s side.
“To… her, Mistress,” Jorge said finally, gesturing weakly toward Nyx.
The atmosphere grew even heavier. Khana frowned.
“Jorge,” she repeated. “Who were you instructed to deliver the letter to?”
Jorge visibly stiffened. He clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white as beads of sweat formed on his brow.
He knew the weight of her question and the consequence of answering it wrong. His voice broke slightly as he answered.
“To the Ninth Vein, Mistress,” he admitted reluctantly.
The moment the words left his mouth, Khana’s hand dipped into her robe, bringing out a gleaming dagger. Its blade caught the light as she held it high.
“Stretch out your hand,” she ordered coldly.
Jorge’s breathing quickened, but he obeyed, stretching out his left arm. His hand was already marred, one finger conspicuously missing.
Without hesitation, Khana brought the blade down in a swift, clean motion. The sickening sound of flesh slicing echoed in the silence, and two of Jorge’s fingers fell to the ground.
Blood gushed from the fresh wounds, pooling at his feet as his entire arm shook violently.
Despite the agony, Jorge gritted his teeth, suppressing any cry of pain. His knees buckled slightly, but he remained bowing deeply.
As the blood began to slow, he pulled his hand back and tucked it against his chest, still trembling but silent.
The sight left the two maids trembling uncontrollably, their faces pale as their wide eyes darted between Khana and the bloodied ground. Their knees wobbled, and one stumbled slightly but caught herself.
Malakai observed everything silently, his expression unreadable, though his icy gaze flicked briefly to the maids and then back to Khana.
Khana, with a satisfied look, turned her cold gaze toward Nyx.
“You,” she spat. “Did you deliver the letter to your pathetic excuse of a master?”
Her words echoed through the area, but Nyx remained silent. The air around them grew colder as the tension escalated. Seconds passed, and still, Nyx did not respond.
Khana’s eyes narrowed, her patience evaporating. “Are you deaf, maid?” she snapped, taking a step closer.
Still, Nyx did not move or speak. Her face was calm, though her hands were clenched tightly at her sides.
Khana’s frustration boiled over as she unsheathed her dagger once more, its blade glinting dangerously. She stormed forward, her voice a growl.
“Do you think you can ignore me, you insolent little—”
Before she could finish, Malakai stepped between them. Despite his young age, he towered over her.
His voice was calm, but the cold steel in his tone made it impossible to ignore.
“What do you want?” he asked, his crimson gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that could freeze fire.
Khana stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing as they met his. A tense silence stretched between them before she smirked and opened her mouth to speak.
“You useless—”
Malakai cut her off sharply.
“I don’t have time for your nonsense. You sent a letter. You summoned me, me, Malakai Von Sanguine. Now let me ask you—” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Who the hell do you think you are to summon me?”
Khana’s face twisted in outrage. “You! How dare you! My standing—”
“Standing?” Malakai interrupted again. His cold gaze bore into her as he spoke.
“You mean the title you clung to by crawling into a Pulse’s bed? Everything you have, your name, your status, your little throne, it’s not yours. You didn’t earn it.”
His voice dropped, colder now.
“You’re just a hollow woman pretending to matter.”
Khana looked like she’d been slapped, but Malakai wasn’t done.
“You don’t summon me. You don’t even speak my name unless you’ve earned the right. And you…” He looked her up and down with contempt.
“You never have.”