The worn wooden door creaked open, and a stream of blood carried its master inside.
It was so quiet that only the surging undercurrent of blood could be heard.
A terrifying presence and pressure filled every corner of the room.
If the sky outside were dark and stormy, Lucifer would bet that this scene would make a killing in a horror movie, helping Vampires reinforce every stereotype outsiders had of them.
The Sanguinarch spoke with little emotion, leaving it unclear whether he was quietly annoyed or just teasing.
“Still as bleak as ever.
You haven’t even bothered to hire a few servants or maids to clean up.”
As someone who valued appearance highly, the Sanguinarch thoroughly enjoyed the respect and worship of his servants.
Yet, the Sanguinarch wasn’t always so “intense.” At least when he was at Lucifer’s place, he was happy to enjoy some peace and quiet.
“Hmm…
I didn’t expect you to have other guests.
Did I come at a bad time?”
Entering the room, the Sanguinarch looked haughty, casting a glance at Warfarin, who was sitting upright and tense in the corner.
That single glance was enough to make the heavily pressured Warfarin break out in a cold sweat.
“Warfarin, I remember you.”
The Sanguinarch narrowed his eyes, recalling who this female Vampire was.
However, Warfarin was just an ordinary Vampire, not even a servant of a prince, so the Sanguinarch didn’t pay her much attention.
“You seem anxious.
Do you need some of my blood to calm you down?”
Hearing this, Warfarin thought the Sanguinarch was about to sacrifice her on the spot.
Before she could even bow to beg for mercy, the Sanguinarch casually summoned a bottle of blood wine and handed it to her.
Judging by the scent, was this…
pure Kuranta blood?
“Uh…
thank you?”
Clutching the bottle, Warfarin expressed her thanks, completely at a loss.
The Sanguinarch, seemingly dismissing her gratitude, sat directly across from Lucifer.
Lucifer pulled out a clear goblet at just the right moment, pouring a glass of simple red wine for the Sanguinarch.
But seeing that the red wine had not a single drop of blood mixed in, the Sanguinarch frowned in displeasure.
“Pure wine?
Is this the hospitality you’ve learned over the years?”
If any other Vampire or prince had offended him like this, they would have been flayed alive as a mild punishment.
“Cut me some slack, I tested it—it’s top-shelf stuff.
I only brought it out because I treat you like a buddy.”
Lucifer had indeed gathered quite a few foreign spoils during the previous war, and this wine was one of them.
“Hmph.
Don’t be ridiculous.
This kind of trash is useless for anything other than setting a mood.”
Though he sounded harsh, the Sanguinarch still picked up the wine glass in front of him and took a small sip.
His brow furrowed even deeper.
“Absolutely no body to it.
Even the blood of an Infected Zalak would be a hundred times better than this.”
Despite saying this, the Sanguinarch didn’t toss the glass aside in anger.
Lucifer didn’t reply, but Warfarin stood by with an expression of sheer disbelief.
Was this really the Sanguinarch?
The cruel, temperamental, cold-blooded killer Duq’arael, who struck fear into the hearts of countless people and Sarkaz alike?
Why did he feel like a slightly fussy noble gentleman?
“Don’t misunderstand, Warfarin.
Why do you think I come to Lucifer’s place instead of the territories of the other princes?”
Just as Warfarin’s worldview of the Sanguinarch was undergoing a complete rewrite, the Sanguinarch spoke up just in time to salvage his image.
Of course, he wasn’t the type to be persuaded or swayed by anyone—not even the Nachzehrer King or the Lord of Fiends.
The only reason he tolerated Lucifer to such an extent was because Lucifer had strength, making him unique among the princes.
And his warm treatment of Warfarin was solely because she was Lucifer’s guest.
It could be said that the Sanguinarch thought very highly of Lucifer, even bringing him along whenever he attended Kazdel’s council meetings.
“Gulp…
Yes…”
Warfarin swallowed hard and nodded slightly.
Even though she still feared the Sanguinarch, thanks to Lucifer, Warfarin didn’t feel completely crushed under the pressure of facing him directly anymore.
Besides, she and the Sanguinarch had actually come to an agreement on one thing.
Compared to the territories of the other Sanguine princes, Lucifer’s place was indeed quiet enough.
The other princes were always incredibly noisy when hosting guests or the Sanguinarch, to the point that even the Sanguinarch found it annoying at times.
At Lucifer’s place, there were no outsiders or loud noises.
You could enjoy the beauty of tranquility, and with Lucifer around, it never felt too lonely.
There was only one minor detail the Sanguinarch wasn’t quite satisfied with.
“I can see dust gathering in some places with my bare eyes.
Do you not plan on cleaning up?”
“Next time, for sure.
Next time.”
Lucifer’s half-hearted brush-off put a swift end to the topic.
“Is there something going on in the Royal Court?”
After exchanging pleasantries, Lucifer and the Sanguinarch inevitably moved on to official business.
After all, even though the war had been over for a while, Kazdel’s national strength remained depleted, barely kept afloat by the Royal Court and the Lord of Fiends.
“Nothing much.
Kazdel and the Sarkaz suffered heavy losses.
The Banshees still haven’t recovered even now.”
The Sanguinarch might look like a lunatic, but he wasn’t stupid.
If that swordsman named Theresis hadn’t seized the opportunity to decapitate the enemy general and end the war early, the Banshees would have probably withered away completely in the conflict.
With casualties this severe, even if the Sanguinarch still had strength left, he wouldn’t dare gamble Kazdel’s future on a counter-offensive.
Furthermore, in the aftermath of this war, the Sarkaz factions seemed to be showing signs of splitting once again.
“How long will this peace last?”
“That will depend on whether our new Lord of Fiends can pass her trial.”
Theresis’s sister, Theresa, had donned the black crown and would once again lead the Sarkaz and Kazdel.
Lucifer twitched his lips in silence, feeling a headache coming on.
He was just a transmigrator.
He had been jumped and beaten up the moment he arrived—what did he know about political intrigue?
But what he had gathered over the years made him realize just how dangerous and chaotic Kazdel truly was.
And so, unable to fully empathize with Sarkaz traditionalists like the Sanguinarch, a thought popped into Lucifer’s mind.
If I slip out of Kazdel one day to become a free agent, Duq’arael won’t put a bounty on my head, right?
A little bickering here and there was fine, but Lucifer had no desire to be dragged into another war a few years down the line to play the role of a troublemaker.
Hey, every character has their own life to live, you know!
Lucifer and the Sanguinarch sat opposite each other, both harboring their own schemes.
Until a loud slurp interrupted their thoughts.
“Gulp…
Wh-what are you both looking at me for?”
Sensing both Lucifer and the Sanguinarch’s eyes locking onto her, Warfarin wiped the blood-wine from the corner of her mouth and asked cautiously.
The Sanguinarch was left speechless, but fortunately, Lucifer stepped in.
“Sanguinarch, you know how it is.
Sanguines are just like this—their brains have never really worked right so Don’t take it to heart.”
“…”