Chapter Ten: Masked Dance

Myra sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the empty surface.

It was lunchtime, but there was nothing.

No plates.

No crumbs.

Not even the faint scent of food lingering in the air.

A strange feeling crept over her.

She turned as a servant walked in.

"Won't we have lunch today?" she asked.

The maid lowered her head.

"Blood has been sent to your room, Miss."

Blood?

For some reason, disappointment settled in her chest.

They always had lunch together.

Something wasn't right.

Feeling a sudden unease, Myra left the dining hall and made her way to the master bedroom.

She knocked, waiting for a response.

"Come in," a voice finally answered.

Lady Aphelion sat on the bed, a book in her hands.

When she saw Myra, her face lit up.

"Myra!" she exclaimed, clearly pleased to see her.

She stood and approached her, gently taking a strand of Myra's hair between her fingers.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

Myra frowned.

"It's only twelve-thirty," she pointed out. "The party doesn't start until seven."

"Evelyn will be bringing your new dress soon," Madeline said, still inspecting Myra's hair.

A soft, almost nostalgic smile touched her lips.

"Guess some changes were made," she murmured.

Myra tilted her head.

"What do you mean?"

But before she could get an answer—

A sharp pain seared through her chest.

She stiffened.

Not again.

She hated this ability.

Hated feeling other people's pain.

Madeline immediately noticed her tense posture.

Her brows furrowed as she placed a cool hand on Myra's forehead.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern filling her smoky eyes.

Myra quickly nodded.

Madeline didn't seem convinced but said nothing.

"I'll be going now," Myra muttered, turning to leave.

Madeline watched her go, a bittersweet smile curling at her lips.

Things have really changed.

By the time Myra reached her room, she sighed deeply.

Lady Aphelion was always sad.

And for some damn reason, she always had to feel it.

Collapsing onto her bed, she shut her eyes, hoping for some rest.

But a few hours later—

Her peace was interrupted.

"Lady Thorn," a maid called.

Myra cracked one eye open.

The girl stood at her door, hands neatly folded.

"My lady, your bath has been prepared."

Myra frowned.

"My what?"

Following the maid to her bathroom, she gawked at what she saw.

Her massive white bathtub was filled with—

Milk.

Rose petals.

And warm water.

She slowly turned to the maids standing beside her.

"You can leave now," she said.

They didn't move.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Didn't you hear me? Leave."

One of them gulped.

"Her Grace asked us to assist you in getting ready," the maid explained hesitantly.

"I don't need assistance," Myra deadpanned.

The maids exchanged nervous glances.

"Her Grace will punish us if we fail in our duties," one of them murmured.

A dark aura leaked from Myra's body.

"And you won't be able to escape my wrath if you don't do as I say."

They trembled.

Then—

They bolted out of the bathroom.

Satisfied, Myra sighed and stripped off her clothes.

Slipping into the bath, she exhaled as warmth spread over her skin.

For the first time that day, she felt relaxed.

But—

Of course—

Her peace didn't last.

The door burst open.

"MYRA~"

Startled, Myra immediately covered her chest with her arms.

Lady Aphelion giggled.

"What a cute child," she murmured.

Myra gawked at her.

"What the hell are you doing in here?!"

Instead of answering, Madeline simply snapped her fingers.

The maids returned.

Holding jugs.

Before Myra could react—

They stepped forward and poured various scented oils into the bath.

Another maid started lathering soap onto her arm.

Someone massaged a floral paste into her hair.

Myra twitched.

She wanted to protest.

But with Lady Aphelion sitting there—watching—she couldn't.

She gritted her teeth and suffered in silence.

After what felt like an eternity, the maids finally finished.

Wrapped in a towel, Myra sat in front of the vanity while a servant dried her hair and another painted her nails.

She hated this.

Hated the pampering.

Hated the attention.

But—

Again—

She couldn't complain.

Once they finished, she was allowed to change in private.

She slipped into her chemise, relieved to be alone for a moment.

When she stepped back out—

Lady Aphelion was gone.

The maids tied her hair into an elegant bun before presenting her new gown.

For a long moment, Myra simply stared at the mirror.

She could hardly recognize herself.

For the first time—

She actually felt beautiful.

The dress was a dark purple off-shoulder gown, with a black rose embroidered into the skirt.

"Always so beautiful," a familiar voice murmured.

Myra turned.

Lady Aphelion stood at the door, smiling.

She waved her hand, dismissing the maids.

Once they were alone, she approached Myra, taking her hand.

She placed something in her palm.

A black mask, encrusted with diamonds.

"It was your mother's," Madeline said softly.

Myra's breath caught.

"I borrowed it two hundred years ago," she continued, a wistful smile on her lips. "I thought today would be the right time to return it."

Myra stared at it, her chest tightening.

She missed her mother.

So much.

"…Thank you," she murmured.

Lady Aphelion's smile softened.

Then—

"You'll be riding with Nathan," she informed her. "Sebastien and I will leave first, then you three will follow."

Myra nodded.

Before leaving, she secured her mother's golden hairpin in her bun—

A hairpin laced with poison.

If she was going to meet Dracula, she had to be prepared.

---

The Ball

The stench of humans made her sick.

She had forgotten this wasn't just a vampire gathering.

"Nathan," she gritted her teeth.

Why was he here?

She turned—

And immediately regretted it.

Damn.

Why did he have to look so good?

Even with the mask, King Lust looked stupidly handsome.

His white shirt, black trousers, and coat fit him perfectly.

The white gloves added an air of elegance.

And that cross earring dangling from his ear?

…Cute.

Wait.

What the hell was she saying?

Nathan fist-bumped King.

"Looking good, bro."

"You too, dude."

Then—

King turned to her.

His smirk was infuriating.

"You look astounding as usual," he murmured, taking her hand—

And kissing her knuckles.

A shiver ran through her body.

Arielle smirked.

Myra hated herself.

She hated that she was reacting to him.

And she hated him even more.

---

The party was boring.

Until—

"A dance, my lady?"

She turned—

King was holding out his hand.

She was about to refuse—

But he dragged her to the dance floor.

His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

She scowled.

Still—

She went with the flow.

Hands on his shoulder, they started to waltz.

Then—

He stopped.

She blinked—

And suddenly—

He lifted her into the air.

Startled, she clung to him.

He twirled her, setting her down—

Then dipped her.

And before she could react—

He kissed her.

Right there.

In front of everyone.

The room gasped.

When he pulled away, he smirked.

"See you later, my little rose."

Then—

He walked away.

Myra stood there, dumbfounded.

He just—

He just—!

Her fingers brushed her lips.

Stupid human!

___

The massive double doors loomed before her, carved with intricate gothic patterns, depicting the long history of his rule.

Myra exhaled deeply.

There was a fifty percent chance she'd walk out of here with only a few broken bones.

Or—

She wouldn't walk out at all.

She turned back, meeting Lady Aphelion's gaze.

Madeline offered a faint, unreadable smile.

It was time.

Myra pushed the doors open.

She stepped inside—

And scoffed.

She wasn't surprised by what she saw.

Dracula sat lazily in his massive chair, his fangs buried in the throat of a woman draped over his lap.

Another woman sat beside him, her hand buried in his trousers, doing God knew what.

The air reeked of blood, lust, and something far darker.

At the sound of her entrance, Dracula retracted his fangs.

Lifting his head, his smirk was insufferable.

"Leave," he ordered.

His women obeyed instantly, hurrying out of the room.

The heavy doors closed behind them.

Now, it was just them.

Dracula exhaled dramatically, brushing a hand through his long black locks.

"To what do I owe this visit?" he drawled, voice dripping with mockery.

Myra rolled her eyes.

Was he trying to sound polite?

He stood from his chair, stretching lazily.

"I didn't know Thomas was such a coward that he sent his daughter to face me," he mused.

Then—

A slow, predatory smirk curled onto his lips.

"Did he send you here to please me?"

Myra shuddered at the implication.

The mere thought of sharing a bed with this pervert made her stomach churn.

"My father didn't send me," she said coldly.

She watched as he poured himself a glass of wine, swirling the liquid absently.

"I came on my own."

Dracula chuckled.

This girl was either brave or stupid.

Or maybe—

Both.

"You walked into the lion's den…" he mused, watching her over the rim of his glass.

"And you expect me to stop eating meat?"

Myra clenched her fists.

"I came here to ask you to stop tormenting my people."

His smirk deepened.

He set his wine down.

"Myra… Myra… Myra…" he sighed, shaking his head.

Then—

With unnerving speed, he grabbed the sword resting beside his throne.

In a flash, he lunged.

Blade aimed at her throat.

Myra barely dodged—her body reacting on instinct as she twisted out of the way.

The tip of the sword sliced a strand of her hair.

She landed in a crouch, heart hammering.

Dracula frowned.

He turned.

Swung again.

She dodged.

Again.

And again.

Faster.

Stronger.

The sheer force of his attacks sent shockwaves through the air.

"Stand still, will you?" he growled, annoyed.

"Why?" she shot back.

"You afraid of missing?"

Something dark flickered in his eyes.

"You insolent little brat."

Dracula blurred—appearing behind her in an instant.

His sword came down.

Myra spun, raising her arms—

And blocked it.

But not with her hands.

Her hairpins.

The very ones laced with poison.

Dracula paused.

Eyes narrowing.

Then—

She kicked him in the groin.

Hard.

He hissed in pain, stumbling back.

It gave her a chance to run.

She turned—sprinting toward the door—

When he grabbed her by the hair.

A sharp, searing pain shot through her scalp.

She cried out, stumbling.

Before she could react—

He slammed her head against the stone wall.

The impact sent stars exploding across her vision.

She wobbled, dizzy.

His low chuckle rang in her ears.

"Did you really think you could win?" he taunted.

Her head throbbed.

Her vision blurred.

But she wasn't done.

Not yet.

She forced herself to stand.

Blood dripped down her forehead, staining her dress.

She turned to face him, her crimson eyes glowing.

Her claws elongated.

A slow, cruel smile spread across her lips.

"I'm going to end you, Vlad."

Dracula wiped the corner of his mouth, shaking his head.

"You just don't know when to stay down, do you?"

Then—

With lightning speed, he kicked her in the chest.

The impact sent her flying into another wall.

Crack.

Pain shot through her ribs.

She hit the ground, coughing violently.

Her darkness—

She tried summoning it—

But she couldn't.

Dracula smirked.

He sensed her struggle.

"You're weakening," he mused, stepping toward her.

He raised his hand—

And suddenly—

She was levitating.

Pain exploded through her body.

Her muscles burned, her chest tightened, her lungs screamed for air.

It felt like her body was on fire.

Blood trickled from her lips.

She tried to move—

But it felt as if her very soul was being crushed.

Dracula watched her struggle, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

Then—

She went limp.

Her vision faded to black.

She fainted.

Silence.

Then—

Her body began to fall.

But—

Dracula caught her.

His hands were surprisingly gentle.

He sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her bruised face.

"I should have gone easier on you," he muttered.

Then—

He did something no one expected.

He leaned down.

And pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

He lifted her into his arms, carrying her like a sleeping princess.

Then—

He stepped out of the room.

--------

The moment Sebastien and Madeline saw him—

Their faces paled.

Madeline gasped.

Myra's dress was torn.

Her hair had been cut short.

Bruises covered her body.

Sebastien's jaw clenched.

"How could you do this?" Madeline's voice shook.

"Give her to me," she demanded.

Dracula took a step back.

"Why should I?" he murmured.

His gaze darkened.

"You know she's meant to be with me."

Madeline scoffed.

"Not after this. I'm not giving her to you."

Dracula chuckled.

"You say that as if you have a choice, Madeline."

Then, he turned to Sebastien.

"She won't be safe with me."

His voice was suddenly serious.

"So I'm leaving her in your care, Seb."

Madeline froze.

Sebastien stared at him.

Dracula sighed.

Then, reluctantly—

He handed Myra over.

Sebastien held her close, his grip protective.

"Stay away from her," he warned.

Dracula smirked.

"I'm not the one you should be worried about," he muttered.

He met Madeline's gaze.

"I care about her as much as you do."

Madeline scoffed.

Who hurts the ones they care about?

Dracula turned away.

Disappearing into the darkness.

Madeline turned to her husband.

"We need to go," she whispered.

Sebastien nodded.

"I'll get the kids," she added.

And with that—

They left.