Whose Your Daddy?

XV

The bloodcurdling screams didn't last long. They tore through the still night, shrill and desperate, but then… silence.

I exhaled, flicking the cigarette in my hand. Ash crumbled at my fingertips, carried away by the cold wind.

I turned my head back toward the grave.

Stella was crouched over the remains of the death row prisoner. Or what was left of him, anyway. His body had withered to near nothingness, his flesh and bone reduced to crumbling ash, leaving only his striped prison uniform as proof that he had ever existed.

In contrast, Stella looked… rejuvenated. Her mangled legs had straightened out, the bruised and rotting flesh knitting itself back together. The deep gashes across her torso faded, fresh skin replacing the ruined tissue. Even her missing arms were reforming, pale fingers twitching as they took shape.

Her throat was no longer slit. Her missing eyes had regrown, glossy and dazed as they adjusted to the night.

The sight was unsettling. But what really caught my attention was her Level Display.

[Level 68]

I barely held in a whistle.

One man. That was all it took.

Then again, this was in line with what I had read in the game's lore. Vampires didn't just feed on the blood of their victims. They consumed the taint, the darkness, and the evil within them. The more wicked the person, the greater the nourishment.

It explained why Stella had recovered so much from just a single kill. That prisoner hadn't been some innocent man wrongfully convicted. He had been a true piece of human garbage. His sins had made him the perfect meal.

Stella sat there, blood dripping from her lips, her crimson-stained fingers twitching as if adjusting to their restored state. Her eyes, though hazy, slowly moved to focus on me.

I stiffened.

Did she remember me?

Last time, I had beaten her into an unrecognizable pulp, sealing her away for who-knows-how-long. If she did remember, she'd have every reason to rip my throat out.

I stayed still, my mind prepared to activate Time Stop at the first sign of aggression.

But… she didn't attack.

She simply blinked at me, as if processing my presence.

That was good. It meant she was at least cognizant. That she wasn't just some feral undead husk acting purely on instinct.

If she could think, then she could listen.

And if she could listen, she could be convinced.

Stella Amsten had a rather good reputation in the game's lore. She had been a legendary bounty hunter, a woman of principle who took down criminals and protected the innocent. Players who had dug deep into the game's history—lore nerds like myself—had all come to the same conclusion: Stella Amsten had been a good-aligned character.

The only thing I didn't know was how her current vampiric state played into that.

Still, she was already more reasonable than Steven.

I cleared my throat and spoke.

"I awoke you for a simple reason," I said, keeping my tone measured. "The Amsten line is giving me a hard time, and I want you to act as an intermediary between me and them. I'd hate to antagonize the nobility. I'd hate to be forced to use vio—"

I stopped.

Stella was staring at me.

Tears welled up in her eyes, streaking down her bloodied face. The sight was… unsettling.

Then she spoke.

"D-Daddy?"

…

Shit.

Who was your Daddy now?

The prisoner's screams would definitely attract attention.

The Amsten PD might have been incompetent, and this place was far from the city's main districts, but someone could still investigate. A passing guard, a nosy adventurer—too many variables. I couldn't afford to leave loose ends.

I activated Time Stop.

The world fell silent. The night froze in place. The wisps of fog in the graveyard stood still, mid-swirl. Even the drifting embers of my cigarette hung in the air like trapped fireflies.

In the stillness, I got to work.

First, I retrieved the journal from inside the casket. It was old, leather-bound, and stained with dried blood. I slipped it into my bag.

Next, I buried everything.

The casket. The prisoner's uniform. The bolt cutter. As for the shovel, I returned it from where I borrowed it. All of it disappeared beneath layers of dirt or didn't matter at all. I packed the soil tight, scattering fallen leaves over the disturbed ground. Anyone who passed by would see nothing unusual—just another forgotten grave among many.

By the time I finished, the place looked untouched.

Like no one had ever been here.

Now for the hard part.

I turned to Stella.

She was limp, dazed from the feeding. Her body was whole again, but her mind was clearly still recovering. I crouched down and hoisted her over my shoulders, grunting under the unexpected weight.

She was heavy.

I had expected her to be light, considering how starved she had been. But no—she felt dense, like her body was packed with raw power.

Great. A legendary bounty hunter turned vampire with a faulty memory and a ridiculously high weight stat. Just what I needed.

I started walking.

The journey back to Moonsong Manor was long.

The estate lay on the city's outskirts, perched on a quiet hill overlooking Amsten. Normally, I would have taken a carriage, but dragging an unconscious vampire through the streets wasn't exactly an option. So I walked, carrying Stella in a time-stopped world.

Since she wasn't in superspeed, I could freely move her.

By the time I reached the manor, my shoulders were burning.

Moonsong Manor looked the same as I had left it—dark, empty, and eerily quiet. The warding spells were still intact, ensuring no one had entered in my absence. It wasn't the grandest noble estate, but it was mine. And more importantly, it was secure.

I kicked open the doors and stepped inside, exhaling in relief.

The first thing I did was drag Stella to the balcony.

The night air was crisp, the city lights flickering below like scattered fireflies. I set her down on a cushioned lounge chair and took a moment to prepare tea.

Not for her. For me.

I needed time to think.

Because what the hell was I supposed to do now?

Stella Amsten—legendary bounty hunter, founder of Amsten, and a vampire I personally brutalized and sealed away—was currently on my balcony, thinking I was her father.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

There was no denying it now—her memories were flawed, probably caused by my brutalization of her and trapping her back inside the casket. This Stella Amsten was… painfully unstable.

I exhaled, setting down my cup.

The last thing I needed was for Stella to go feral and make a mess of things. As much as I wanted to use her as leverage against Steven, forcing subservience on him through her wasn't going to work anymore. The man was already irrational—backing him into a corner with an incomplete trump card would only make him more desperate.

I sighed, staring down at the vampire across the balcony. This was a problem. A big one.

I poured myself another cup of tea, letting the warmth seep into my fingers before taking a slow sip. Then I poured another. And another.

So… what now?

I could play along. Dangerous, but workable. Sink or swim.

I leaned back, tapping my fingers against the porcelain cup. My mind drifted back to my time at the animation studio—endless deadlines, absurd client demands, managers who wanted miracles on zero budget. That place had forced me to learn how to sell even the most ridiculous of stories with a straight face.

Right now, I needed that skill more than ever.

I exhaled, steeling myself, and let time flow again.

Stella blinked, stirring slightly. Her glossy eyes focused on me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something… raw. Fear? Uncertainty?

She reached for her face, fingers brushing against her lips—then her fangs.

Her breath hitched.

"Stella," I said, keeping my tone calm. "What's the last thing you remember?"

She turned to me, blinking in confusion. "My coming of age, silly!" She gave a nervous laugh. "Daddy, where is my elder sister? Huh? I felt like we talked about this already…"

Deja vu?

I took a slow sip of tea, my mind racing.

Alright. I had an idea of what was happening now. Her memories were trapped in the time before she left the Ivory Kingdom—before she became the legendary bounty hunter, before she was betrayed and cast out.

That made things… easier.

I set my cup down and met her gaze. "Stella," I began, carefully choosing my words. "You've traveled forward in time due to an accident."

Her lips parted slightly. "…What?"

I nodded, keeping my expression perfectly neutral. "I found you buried in a coffin. You've been asleep for a long time. Longer than you'd think."

She looked around, her hands clenching the fabric of her dress. "But… but that's impossible. I was just…" Her voice trailed off, her brows furrowing in thought.

Good. Confused but gullible. I just needed to push the lie further.

"You left the Ivory Kingdom," I continued, weaving the story seamlessly. "You went on a grand adventure, Stella. You became a vampire hunter. A legend."

Her eyes widened.

"You fought creatures of the night, saved countless lives, and your name became known across the land. But something happened. Something that led to you being sealed away. I found your coffin buried deep beneath the earth… and now, here you are."

Her breathing quickened, her hands trembling as they hovered near her lips again. "Then… why do I feel…" Her voice faltered.

"You were awakened as a vampire," I said, my tone heavy with false sympathy. "It must have happened right before you were sealed away."

Anxiety filled her eyes. "No," she whispered. "That can't be. I… I wouldn't—"

I leaned forward, offering the most reassuring smile I could muster. "Stella, you're still you. Whatever happened, it doesn't change who you are."

She swallowed hard, looking down at her trembling hands.

The seed of doubt was planted. Now, I just had to nurture it.

"Now," I said, refilling my cup and taking another slow sip. "Let's try that again. What's the last thing you remember?"

Stella hesitated, her hands resting on her lap, fingers twitching slightly. Her eyes flickered with confusion. "My coming of age," she murmured. "My sister was there… Mother and Father, too. It was a grand ball."

I nodded. "That makes sense."

She took in a slow breath, her brows furrowing. "But after that, I..." Her voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in. "I left, didn't I?"

I smiled faintly. "You wanted to prove yourself. To step out of your sister's shadow. That's when your journey began."

Her lips parted slightly, as if something about that answer felt right.

For now.

"Now," I said again, my voice even. "What's the last thing you remember?"

She blinked, her expression shifting. "I… I was in a duel. No—a hunt. There was a vampire, a dangerous one."

"That's right," I said smoothly. "You were tracking a powerful target, a vampire lord. It was supposed to be your greatest hunt. But something went wrong. You were betrayed."

Her hand twitched slightly, moving toward her throat.

"Who…?" she started, then faltered.

I shook my head. "Does it matter?"

She flinched slightly, as if the weight of the unknown was too much.

Silence stretched between us. The tea in her cup remained untouched, its steam long since faded.

"Now," I repeated, leaning back in my chair. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Her eyes flickered again. "I—" She exhaled sharply. "No… no, there was more. I was famous. People knew my name. I—" She gritted her teeth. "I fought something. Something horrible."

I tilted my head. "And what happened?"

She shut her eyes tightly. "I lost," she whispered.

"Not lost," I corrected gently. "You were sealed away. Hidden from the world. And now, I found you."

Her breath shuddered, fingers clenching into fists.

Rinse and repeat.

Every time she came closer to the truth, I would guide her back. Not with full lies—never outright deception—but with a story close enough to reality that she wouldn't question it. She wanted to believe. She needed to believe.

"Now," I said once more, my voice steady. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Stella's gaze darkened.

She exhaled.

The stiffness in her posture eased slightly. Her fingers uncurled. Her shoulders, once tense, loosened.

And then, she turned her head.

Her eyes found the horizon, the moonlit expanse beyond the manor walls.

Coldness. Sadness. Longing.

The real her.

The woman who had fought and lost. The woman who had been abandoned, betrayed, left to rot in darkness.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "I really was strong, wasn't I?"

I took a sip of my tea.

"Still are."

She didn't answer.

Just kept staring at the stars.

I took another slow sip of my tea, letting the night air cool my nerves. Moonsong Manor was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below. The balcony overlooked the slumbering streets, a perfect place for contemplation. Or, in this case, post-resurrection negotiations.

Stella sat across from me, her bloodied form eerily still. Her clothes were tattered, her face streaked with the dried remnants of her last meal. The flickering candlelight cast strange shadows over her gaunt features, making her look more ghost than woman.

I let the silence stretch. Then, I asked, "What's the last thing you remember?"

Her dull, crimson eyes shifted toward me, unblinking.

"You robbed my very unmarked grave," she said flatly.

I met her gaze. "I did."

Her lips parted slightly, as if testing the words before speaking them aloud. "We fought."

I nodded.

"You left me brutalized, unable to heal."

I nodded again.

"You forced me back into the casket," she continued, voice slow and deliberate. "Sealed me. And then buried me."

I took another sip of my tea. "I did."

She stared at me for a long moment.

"Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?"

I set my cup down, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer. "I will know."

Her gaze flickered, as if reevaluating me, recalculating. Then, it dropped—just for a moment—to my hand.

More specifically, to the ring on my finger.

Dark Omens.

Her ring.

Her fingers twitched slightly, almost reflexively, like a muscle memory of possession.

Not happening.

I laced my fingers together, resting my chin on them. "So…" I exhaled, my lips curling into a smirk. "Who's your daddy again?"

Her eyes snapped up to mine, an instant frown overtaking her face.

For a second, I thought she might actually lunge at me. But instead, she just narrowed her eyes, as if weighing whether or not I was worth the effort.

I sipped my tea again.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.