Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint

There’s a saying: You don’t use a cow-killing knife to slaughter a chicken.
A critical mind might scoff at that and say, Why not?—as the younger generation often does—but that’s just ignorance talking. When handling small matters, smaller tools are simply more effective. Advising someone to butcher a chicken with a cleaver meant for cattle is the kind of thinking that views everything from the perspective of a weapon rather than a tool.

It’s the same in life.
Dealing with a single Ain wasn’t something I needed to ask Tyrkanzyaka for. Even if she, the Progenitor, personally summoned an Ain, it wouldn’t necessarily yield the results I wanted.

That’s why I asked Count Erthe, the one in charge of running the Castle of the Full Moon on a practical level.

…Though, technically, Count Erthe was significant enough to be considered the ruler of a domain in their own right.
Not bad, mistress. A stray rolling stone ends up giving orders to a lord—at this rate, the country might just topple.

Count Erthe disappeared for a short while before promptly returning.

“At this moment, only one of Lord Ruskinia’s remaining bloodline remains near the Castle of the Full Moon.”
“Only one? That’s a pretty low number.”
“The Ains of a slumbering Elder are often quite occupied. They must handle all the duties of their dormant master. Lord Ruskinia… did not keep many Ains, making this even more pronounced.”

Not many? More like he made Ains frequently and discarded them just as often—treating them like disposable tools, or test subjects.

As a mind reader, I had no trouble picking up the thoughts hidden between Count Erthe’s words.
The more I read, the more I wanted to know what kind of person that dead Elder really was. He wasn’t just insane—he was something far beyond that.

“I have sent word. Will you meet them?”
“Yes. Let’s.”
“…Understood.”

It doesn’t really matter, but at a time like this, why meet with the bloodline of a dead Elder…?

Though Count Erthe harbored a slight doubt, they obeyed without question. The Crimson Duke’s orders to serve me were absolute.
Had it been Vladimir instead of me, Erthe wouldn’t have even dared to entertain such a thought—acting as nothing more than an extension of his will.

If the Crimson Duke were to die like Ruskinia, what would happen to Count Erthe?
Seeing what became of Ruskinia’s Ain might just give me that answer.

From what I had gathered, Ruskinia had been an absolutely deranged lunatic—a vampire even other vampires shunned.

Yet Count Erthe led me to a hospital.

Third floor. Not tall, but spacious.
Unlike the Bloodcraft Workshop or the Castle of the Full Moon, which at least had some aesthetic appeal, this hospital was stark and purely functional.

And inside, ruled by the bloodline of that madman, was something unexpected—relief and joy.

The humans who had come here had suffered, but now that they were alive, they were grateful.

As I sat in a guest chamber with the faint scent of blood lingering in the air, a vampire entered under Count Erthe’s guidance.

“The Progenitor’s mistress? What brings you here? There are no Elders here, nor any pretenders like Yeiling, who once claimed this hospital for himself.”

The vampire wore a sleeveless gown—a rather peculiar choice of clothing.
His tone made it abundantly clear that my visit was nothing but a nuisance.

“Lutric. Mind your words. This is the human personally chosen by the Progenitor.”
“What, so just a pet? Livestock getting promoted to a pet doesn’t mean they can expect to be treated the same.”
“I have warned you. Watch your tongue…”

A subtle but dangerous aura began to rise from Count Erthe.
The thin scent of blood in the hospital responded to their Bloodcraft, shifting ominously.

And yet, in this moment of near-conflict, the first to step back… was Lutric.

“Tch. The indignity of being without an Elder rears its head even here.”

With a discontented sigh, Lutric nodded.