220: An Elegant Gathering... Just as a Vampire Should

"I never knew you were a vampire!"

"You never asked."

"Are you insane? Do you really think I'd go around asking a student at Hogwarts if they have vampire blood?" Penelope gritted her teeth, barely squeezing out the words as if someone had stepped on her throat. "I would've been called a lunatic spreading ridiculous rumors! And even if I had asked you—"

"You're right. Even if you had, I wouldn't have told you the truth." Nolan shrugged. "We were never that close, were we, Penelope?"

"Not that close? Then why would you treat a girl you're 'not that close' with like this?"

Resigned, Penelope rolled her eyes and tapped Nolan's hand—the one casually resting on her waist—with her slender, curved finger.

The two of them were standing in the grand ballroom of the Sistine Manor, where delightful music filled the vast space.

A headless knight in a tailcoat was seated at the pipe organ, her beautiful head placed on a nearby chair while her fingers skillfully played for the lively vampire gathering.

On the dance floor, the ever-flirtatious Baron Dura was waltzing with a new Muggle girl he had found, while Leonard of the Borgnat clan was leading his partner—a kind-looking woman in her fifties, her temples already streaked with silver.

"What's the deal with that pair?" Finding their combination a bit odd, Penelope leaned closer and whispered into Nolan's ear.

"Oh, that's the esteemed Lady Antill," Nolan explained, raising an eyebrow. "She was just a thirteen-year-old girl full of sweet and simple fantasies about life when she met Leonard—a charming, aristocratic vampire who swept her off her feet. This year marks their fortieth anniversary together. It seems she still refuses to abandon her humanity, though… I don't know if that's the right choice, but they do look happy together, don't they?"

He shrugged, beckoned a passing waiter, and picked up two drinks, handing one to Penelope.

"Thanks," Penelope murmured before taking a sip.

Then, she promptly spat it out.

The liquid in the glass had an odd taste—a mix of sweet, fragrant fruit juice and a rich, iron-like tang of blood.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded, her voice sharp with disgust.

Nolan took the cup from her, tasting the red liquid inside. "Pomegranate juice mixed with Type O blood. Probably handmade by Lúthfa. You're lucky."

"Lucky?" Penelope nearly shouted, lowering her voice at the last second. "I'd rather be unlucky!"

Then, glancing around as if finally accepting the inevitable, she sighed. "So, I suppose you're going to tell me now that most of the people gathered in this ballroom… are vampires?"

"You catch on quick," Nolan praised, raising an eyebrow. "The heads of the major vampire clans in England's secret society are all here tonight. Let's see… Besides our own Von Draugr and the Borgnat clan, we also have Lux, Farrian, the Terror Count, and A. Berliks. Honestly, Penelope, I have to tell you—the combined influence of the vampires in this room far surpasses your entire wizarding world. This year, we all decided to spend Christmas at Randall Gorge—oh, Sheila, how have you been?"

"Absolutely miserable!"

The woman who had just arrived—a stunning beauty in a tight-fitting, medieval-style corset gown—sharply declared. She cast a withering glance at Penelope, who was still in Nolan's arms, before wedging herself onto the sofa beside them.

Then, in an almost theatrical huff, she turned to Nolan and complained, "Ever since you went off to that foolish wizard school, I never get to see you! I heard you visited Leonard's bridge club last year, and I missed you again! At that time, I was still sound asleep in my coffin, and no one bothered to wake me! By the time I finally got up, dusted myself off, and climbed out, my dear brother told me you'd already returned to Hogwarts!"

"Our meetings have always been limited, Sheila. You can't blame Hogwarts for that," Nolan said, nonchalantly.

Sheila scooted closer, her voice turning into a seductive purr. "But if we marry and share a coffin, we could see each other all the time, couldn't we?" She batted her eyelashes. "Nolan, I'm not a good Borgnat. Unlike my loud and bustling family in London, I much prefer the peace and quiet of Randall Gorge. You know that."

"Oh, I don't have any plans for marriage right now," Nolan replied smoothly.

"You will," Sheila huffed, pouting in disappointment as she stood up. "For now, I suppose I'll go pay a visit to Grand Duchese Felicia. Hopefully, she'll give me something to do in this endlessly noisy Christmas gathering…"

Before leaving, she made sure to shoot Penelope another venomous glare, which Penelope returned with equal hostility.

"Don't provoke her," Nolan warned. "She's dangerous."

"What?"

"That woman is Sheila Borgnat—a pureblood vampire, and a rather unhinged one. Her brother is Leonard, the one in the dance hall. Now, vampires may be cold, but we have a strong sense of family. Sheila, on the other hand, doesn't. If she ever decides that she would make a better clan leader than Leonard, she wouldn't hesitate to drive a silver dagger through his heart and take his place."

A shiver ran down Penelope's spine.

"So why is she after you?"

"She thinks we're 'a perfect match.' She's only thirty years older than me, and she considers our family lineages ideal for strengthening her own. To her, my blood is far more valuable than my opinions."

"No wonder you said she was crazy…"

While the young vampire and the witch whispered about the people around them, an imposing presence entered the ballroom.

Red and gold—the colors of fresh blood and noble elegance. Beauty—an eternal synonym for her existence.

Felicia Von Draugr.

She walked forward gracefully, her movements flawless.

Though she was putting on the act of a refined noblewoman, every seasoned vampire in the room knew better. Felicia had always been a mischievous troublemaker. Only the young, naive vampires—those under a century old—still gazed at her in infatuation, bewitched by her carefully crafted charm.

Not that Felicia cared. She found it amusing to fool them.

And at this moment, her target was none other than the young witch in Nolan's arms.

"Ah… Professor Felicia is as elegant as ever," Penelope mused, watching her approach. "From head to toe, the perfect lady."

"A lady?" Nolan scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Felicia flashed a dazzling smile, sauntering up to them. Without hesitation, she lifted the hem of her gown and kicked Nolan in the shin with her high heels.

"Hey, Nolan, stop talking about me behind my back."

Then, she turned her radiant smile toward Penelope.

"Well, well… little wildcat, are you enjoying yourself?"