Ella placed the Night Shadow Rose in a simple glass vase in her guest room. It bloomed with defiant vigor, its sweet fragrance so overpowering it seemed to suffocate the air both day and night—a silent declaration of ownership.

Each time she glanced at it, the phantom sting in her fingertips would return, a reminder of the warning hidden within Camien's seemingly generous gift.


She abandoned her nighttime explorations, recognizing that Samuel and Camien's vigilance made such ventures too risky. Instead, she used her limited daytime freedom to carefully study the manor's layout, track servant movements, and note any unusual scents in the air.

The real storm, however, came not from within the manor but swept in from the misty depths of the city itself.

On the afternoon of Ella's fourth day at the manor, an unusual commotion shattered the estate's oppressive silence. Standing by her window, gazing at the endless black forest and leaden skies, she suddenly spotted several carriages bursting from the forest path at breakneck speed, racing toward the main entrance. These weren't noble conveyances—they bore no emblems, were splattered with mud, and were pulled by horses with foam-flecked mouths and terror-filled eyes.


Moments later, distant roars and the clash of weapons echoed from the front courtyard, mingled with the frantic footfalls of servants. That strange odor she'd detected in the stairwell—spoiled blood mixed with decayed herbs—suddenly intensified, spreading through the manor like an invisible contagion.

Ella's heart raced. She quickly secured her Silver Dagger against her body and stepped into the corridor. It was no longer deserted—pale-faced Vampire servants and human mercenaries rushed past, their faces showing rare expressions of near-panic. No one spared a glance for "the guest."


She followed the commotion to the entrance of the main hall. What she saw there made her breath catch.

The main hall blazed with cold light. Several figures were pinned to the floor by powerful guards, their inhuman howls mixing pain with rage. One wore a servant's uniform—human, but with unnaturally gray skin covered in web-like red markings. His clouded eyes stared vacantly while bloody foam dripped from his mouth. Another was clearly a low-ranking Vampire, his fangs grotesquely extended, his once-pale skin now blackened and shriveled as though corroded from within, all trace of elegance replaced by bestial frenzy.

Camien stood at the center, his back to Ella. His crisp black coat and rigid posture couldn't hide the waves of icy fury radiating from him. Samuel stood at his side, reporting in rapid, hushed tones.

"…Three identical cases in the Western District's human quarter. Our people eliminated two who were beyond control and attempted to bring back this one who could still communicate, but he deteriorated en route. Three House Alcarte members show early symptoms and have been quarantined. The transmission rate, Your Highness, far exceeds our projections…"

"The source?" Camien's voice wasn't raised, but it cut like ice against glass—sharp and bone-chilling.

"Still undetermined. But all cases have had contact with a so-called 'miracle cure' circulating from Black Water Alley in the Lower City," Samuel replied grimly. "Supposedly cures consumption. Sells cheap."

Suddenly, the infected human erupted with unnatural strength, breaking one guard's grip and lunging with a feral roar toward another. His bared teeth had sharpened to points, displaying vampire-like characteristics! Chaos erupted instantly.

In that same moment, a blur of deep purple shot forward. Ella moved without hesitation—she couldn't stand by and watch a human being killed or become a killer.

She moved with such speed she left only afterimages, deftly sidestepping the lunge. Her right hand formed a precise blade with her fingers, striking a pressure point on the infected man's neck—a Hunter's technique for subduing frenzied creatures.

The infected man faltered with a choked howl. That brief interruption was enough; the guards quickly regained control and restrained him once more.

The hall fell instantly silent. All eyes—questioning, scrutinizing, hostile—fixed on Ella. The speed and skill she'd just displayed were decidedly not those of a mere fallen noblewoman.

Camien turned slowly. In his crimson eyes, all previous languor and playfulness had vanished, replaced by cold scrutiny and a barely perceptible "just as I suspected" expression.

His gaze swept across her slightly heaving chest before settling on her hand—the one she'd used for the strike and was now casually returning to her side.

"Impressive skills, Miss Vein," he remarked, his tone neither pleased nor angry—which somehow unnerved Ella more than any outburst could have. "It seems that despite House Vein's decline, certain family traditions persist. Is combat training standard curriculum for young ladies these days?"

Ella's heart hammered against her ribs. Had she just exposed herself? Or had he known all along? She forced herself to meet his gaze, her voice slightly breathless yet controlled: "My father… believed women should be able to defend themselves. Particularly in these uncertain times."

The explanation was flimsy, and she knew it. But amid the current chaos, it might just suffice as cover.

Camien didn't immediately call out her lie. His gaze lingered on her face, as though weighing options. Then he looked away, turning his attention back to the struggling infected, his brow furrowed. The hall hummed with desperation and frenzy—a fear born of decay and collapse that seemed alien even to the Vampires.

"This is no ordinary plague, nor any known form of vampiric frenzy," he stated, seemingly to the room yet clearly addressing Ella. "It twists life itself, blurs natural boundaries, and extinguishes reason. It's called the 'Blood Plague.'"

Blood Plague. Ella silently echoed the name, a chill creeping up her spine. She remembered Camien's breakfast reference to "ancient pathologies" and the cryptic mentions of "life essence alienation" in her father's notes. Could there be a connection?

Camien seemed to reach a decision. He turned to Ella again, his gaze sharp and direct, all pretense of courtesy abandoned.

"Miss Vein—or perhaps I should use a title more befitting your actual abilities?" His tone remained flat but carried unmistakable pressure. "Your 'perceptiveness' and 'self-preservation skills' are currently in short supply. This Blood Plague threatens not only humans but my kind as well, along with the fragile balance of this city."

He stepped closer, his cold aura washing over her. "I need to know what's happening in Black Water Alley. My kind are too conspicuous—easily spotted by whoever's pulling these strings. But a seemingly vulnerable yet capable human woman might go unnoticed… and see things we cannot."

Ella immediately grasped his intention. He wanted to use her—to leverage her Hunter abilities to investigate a crisis that even Vampires couldn't handle.

Her opportunity for revenge was tantalizingly close. She could refuse, maintain her disguise, even attempt to strike him down amid the chaos. But the twisted faces of the infected haunted her—humans and vampires suffering equally. If this plague spread unchecked, Fog City would become a living hell. The Hunter's creed was to protect—to shield humanity from darkness. And this Blood Plague clearly represented a darkness far more vast and twisted than any single vampire noble.

Personal vengeance warred with her deeper sense of duty.

Camien waited silently, seemingly certain of her decision. He even raised a hand slightly to silence Samuel, who appeared ready to offer persuasive arguments.

After a long moment, Ella drew a deep breath, forcing down the tumult of emotions in her chest. She raised her head, and though the fire in her purple-gray eyes hadn't dimmed, it had transformed into something more complex.

"I'll need detailed intelligence about Black Water Alley and these 'miracle cures,'" she said, her voice steady with professional detachment. "And a convincing cover identity that will let me operate there effectively."

The corner of Camien's mouth curved upward almost imperceptibly, like a crack appearing in winter ice.

"Excellent." He gestured to Samuel. "Prepare whatever Miss Vein requires. And…" his gaze returned to Ella with new assessment, as though evaluating a potential ally, "remember, our interests are aligned. For now."

"For now," Ella echoed, her voice soft but crystal clear.

She stared at Camien's extended hand in its black leather glove—the hand she believed had destroyed her family. Now, facing a common and more terrifying threat, she had to temporarily clasp it.

Cold seeped through her fingertips, penetrating the glove and chilling her to the core.

An alliance built on shifting sands, wrapped in thorns and suspicion. Her hunt had transformed—from a single target of vengeance to an unknown plague and shadowy conspiracy lurking in Fog City's depths.

And between her and this Vampire prince, the taut string of hatred hadn't broken—it had merely been temporarily submerged beneath more urgent concerns.