Chapter 12

He burst into laughter upon hearing her words, "What if I said it's because I'm very interested in you?"
She paused for a moment, then lifted her eyes to meet his seemingly genuine, yet insincere smile, "What about it?"
It was that look in her eyes. He was fascinated, admiring her determined and cold gaze. It was different yet strangely compatible with the desperate and hopeless eyes in his distant memory. He asked in a hoarse voice, "In other words, if I were to pursue you, you would likely reject me outright, wouldn’t you?"
"…Of course." His eyes instantly revealed a profound loneliness, which unexpectedly made her falter. She suddenly bowed her head, continuing to pretend to please him, her lips lightly kissing the small scar, remembering its location well - it was an excellent mark to ensure she would not miss her target.
"Do you dislike me that much? Because I'm half vampire? I'm also half human, why not accept me for that half?"
"From the day you killed our people, you lost the right to ask that question."
"I see…" He sighed dejectedly, the strange sensation she caused in him gradually turning into an unfamiliar tingling pleasure that converged in his lower abdomen, making him sigh out in satisfaction.
"So, I have to take you by force then."
He lifted her chin, kissed her deeply, tore off his bathrobe, and flipped her beneath him, fumbling for the drawstring of her cotton pants.
"Wait…" Her gasp of surprise vanished into his devouring kiss. She tried to push away his warming body, one hand tightly gripping the side of her right leg.
"It's too late for regrets now." He nibbled on her slender neck, ambiguously pressing his physiological reaction against her, "Do you feel it? You've cured my centuries-long anhedonia, don’t you want to see how great the effect you’ve caused is?"
"I just wanted to remind you… don’t forget the condom." She trembled, not from desire, but from nervousness, quietly reaching into the hidden pocket in her pants, pulling out a silver sword and pressing it under her arm as he pulled down her pants.
"What if I don’t want to wear it?" He licked and kissed her soft chest, feeling a new desire growing within him. He suddenly had a crazy thought – if he could get her pregnant, she wouldn’t be able to return to the Derlin family, right?
She ignored him, her palms sweating as she gripped the silver sword, softly calling, "Emil."
His name spoken in such a gentle tone momentarily gave him the illusion that it was the kind and gentle young girl from many years ago calling him.
He lifted his head, his gaze meeting her unusually pale face and misty eyes. In that moment, a sharp pain struck his chest.
His pupils dilated, his muscles tensed reflexively, staring at her in shock.
He tried to speak but could not make a sound, his body collapsing, his face falling beside her neck, his fading gaze catching sight of the familiar pure silver sword in her hands, the blade plunged into his left chest, fully to the hilt.
He lay heavily on her, motionless, seemingly… dead.
Derlin·Sarah trembled violently, still holding the hilt of the sword, tears welling up in her eyes.
She had succeeded, she had completed the task given to her by the female envoy, so why did she feel so confused, as if she had done something wrong?
Was it because she had killed someone?
She had killed creatures in human form before, believing that eradicating evil was an act of goodness, never wavering; but he was half-human, half-demon. In eradicating his evil part, had she also eradicated the possibility of goodness?
But what is good, and what is evil? From a human perspective, vampires are unforgivably evil; to vampires, they are merely acting according to their nature. The essence of life is inherently indistinguishable; it is humans who set boundaries, ranking themselves above other beings…
Had she done the right thing, or the wrong one?
Suddenly, her wrists were gripped tightly, pulled above her head.
She looked in shock at the man she thought was dead as he lifted his face, his lips stained with blood, his green eyes darkly watching her, breathing heavily.
"You really can't let your guard down for a moment, my dear." The sword that had pierced his chest was like a massive branding iron, burning and churning between his lungs. He grabbed the hilt, ignoring the burns from the pure silver on his palm, pulled out the silver sword, and threw it, nailing it into the door. His wound healed before it could even bleed.
He pinned her hands above her head, his eyes a twisted mix of laughter and rage, "Pity you missed, just like she did."
She had failed! She forgot the inner struggle of a moment ago, reflexively forming a spell, but he forcibly pulled her hands apart.
"Don't be hasty, my dear, you know the saying 'more haste, less speed', right?" He bared a cold, bloodthirsty smile, his grip not rough but immobilizing her completely. "The night is still long, as long as we keep going, you'll always have a chance."
The air was filled with the scent of lovemaking.
Naked, Derlin·Sarah wrapped in a blanket, the originally pure white blanket and mattress stained with many light red marks, mostly his. Vampire fluids are red, including tears and sweat.
Emil's large hand smoothed her hair, seemingly relaxed and lazy, but the arm around her waist was tense.
Her cheeks were flushed, her back against his burning chest, she stared blankly at the opened condom on the bed, her mind in turmoil.
The situation had developed into what she least wanted – she couldn't kill him, and was forced to keep her promise.
When he pulled out the silver sword, she thought he would take her life in a rage, but he only used his physical advantage to force her to fulfill their agreement.
He didn't hurt her – aside from the initial discomfort, he even patiently waited for her to adjust, and then shared the trembling pleasure with her.
The him behind her played with her shoulder-length hair, clearly having no intention of speaking. She quietly said, "Why didn’t you kill me?"
She had imagined possible scenarios, perhaps he wanted to humiliate her before killing her, but he was gentle all night, gentle as if treating a lover, gentle enough to confuse her.
"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it last night." His voice was lazy with the scent of lovemaking, like a satisfied cat, "You might not believe it, but I'm not really interested in killing."