Ch.68

**Inside the Castle**

The five children of the Count gathered in the inner chamber of the castle. Normally, they would be receiving education from their assigned tutors, but today’s lecture was special. The Countess, mother of the five children, was their teacher.

“Who knows exactly what a blood contract is? Raise your hand.”

As always, the Countess was direct. She never spoke in roundabout ways. Well, it was precisely because she was such a strong-willed woman that she had been the one to propose marriage to the Count.

As expected, none of the five children raised their hands. The Countess proceeded to tell them detailed stories about blood contracts and the powers of the blood lord. The content was simple enough for even the youngest child, Abashina, to understand, yet it was filled with revelations shocking even to the eldest son and daughter.

Above all, neither the Count nor the Countess had ever shared such detailed information before. After about an hour of explanation, the children fell into a deep silence.

“Any questions?”

Surprisingly, the first to raise her hand was the youngest daughter, Abashina.

“Can you read the memories of birds too?”

The Countess thought it was a question befitting her youngest daughter. Abashina had always been this way. Easily frightened and quick to tears, yet more curious than anyone. It had taken the Countess quite some time to understand that Abashina wasn’t a coward, but rather a child sensitive to changes in her environment.

“No. You can only read human memories. You cannot read the memories of beasts. Just as we cannot understand the meowing of cats or the language of birds. Even if you could read them, you would only see fragments of memories.”

This time, the eldest son raised his hand.

“Then why doesn’t Father—”

“During this time, refer to him as ‘the Count.'”

“I apologize. Why doesn’t the Count become the ruler of the world? With the power of blood, he could subjugate everyone in the world.”

The Countess smiled. That was the very question she had asked when she first met the Count. The Count had answered with a touch of humor. And now it was time for the Countess to give her son the same answer.

“The Count wants to govern, not raise children. As I said, offering blood doesn’t immediately turn someone into a puppet. Only when you exercise your right over the blood can you control a person. Let me put it this way. Do you want to be a leader?”

The eldest son naturally said yes. The Countess asked again.

“Then let’s say you have 100 toy dolls in your room. Before you control them, they won’t even blink an eye. Would such a game be fun?”

“It might be fun at first, but then I’d get bored.”

“Exactly. If even toys can bore you, imagine how terrible and frightening it would be if you grew tired of the people you’re supposed to care for. The moment you see your subjects not as people but as objects to satisfy your desires, the ruler disappears. Only a tyrant remains.”

This time, the second daughter raised her hand.

“Were there ever evil blood lords?”

“Of course. I know quite a few. In the past, there were far more blood lords than there are now. Even those who successfully passed down their lineage eventually became intoxicated with their own power and ended up killing their own people. But even blood lords aren’t immortal. All of them eventually lost their lives at the hands of the very people they ruled and oppressed. Now, our family is the only blood lineage left.”

“Were there no tyrants in our family?”

The Countess nodded at the second son’s question. It was a point of pride for the Count’s family.

“Our ancestors always emphasized that refraining from doing evil when you have the power to do so is just as difficult as achieving the impossible. They also said that whatever you do, consequences and repercussions will follow. No matter what intention you start with, a ruler’s single word or action always brings unexpected results. The difference from ordinary people is that rulers must respond to and take responsibility for those results.”

“So a ruler is constantly fighting against themselves?”

The Countess was delighted by her youngest child’s extraordinary insight.

“Yes. That is the path of a ruler. That’s why the ruler’s path is always painful and difficult. Of course, one could shift the burden of consequences onto others… but at that moment, the ruler falls.”

* * * * *

The Count was truly exhausted.

He would doze off even before realizing he was a little tired. He had lost count of how many days he had gone without proper sleep.

To clear his mind, the Count rose from his seat. He steadied himself by gazing at the farmhouses and livestock visible beyond the castle. The Count had lived for a very long time, since before the birth of those now plowing the fields with their oxen. He remembered their fathers and mothers. He even remembered their fathers’ mothers and mothers’ fathers. This was how he could quickly forget his distress.

Reading someone’s memories is a painful task.

Because you see more than you need to know. The Count “knew” about Volkov’s peculiar tastes, and how Sidorov had spoken insultingly about the Countess and their children. Of course, from their perspective, these were trivial matters they wouldn’t even remember.

But not for the Count. The miserable feeling of opening someone’s diary and finding gossip about oneself, the insults directed not only at himself but also at his beloved family—it was truly unbearable.

Yet he had to endure it. These weren’t related to the trial. They were memories that even those people wouldn’t want to show, and the Count had encountered them quite accidentally and unwillingly.

This was why blood trials were burdensome. People find it difficult to listen to someone gossiping about them in a carriage for even ten minutes.

Yet during the trial process, one must look through, search, and find throughout someone’s entire life.

Though he had been conducting blood trials for a very long time, the Count could never understand people’s endless malice, immeasurable goodwill, and peculiar quirks. Each year, the Count encountered unique and shocking peculiarities, and each time, he couldn’t sleep properly. What a predicament to be in, constantly having to revive someone else’s painful memories.

The Countess’s comfort was a great strength.

‘Don’t follow the delusions in your head. Look only at me, who is physically with you. Only what touches the flesh is real.’

She was right. When he was with her, he could forget everything. Though he would have to face those painful and unwanted memories again when he opened his eyes, he gained the strength to confront them.

But even so, these days, who exactly was the vampire…

“Count?”

With a start, the Count turned around. He had even forgotten that the chamberlain was in the middle of giving a report. Of course, the chamberlain hadn’t earned his position for nothing, and he quickly noticed the Count’s situation.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can submit a written report instead.”

“No, no. I apologize. You must have a lot to do, let’s just continue verbally.”

The Count sat down, slightly flustered. Embarrassed, he adjusted his collar. He didn’t want to leave a paper trail for what was merely a weekly routine report.

“Ahem. We’ve been monitoring those ‘merchants.’ The Dutch merchant who goes by the name Vladimir, the English couple Jonathan and Mina Rider, and the rest of their group.”

Who were they again? The Count barely recalled the names.

“You mean those merchants selling exotic goods?”

“Yes, Count. However, they are not mere merchants. They show a great deal of interest in your domain and in you personally. Jonathan Rider, in particular, is a lawyer who even provided legal consultation to Sidorov. There are also reports of them inciting division and discord.”

“In what way?”

The chamberlain gathered his thoughts. He had no desire to add to the Count’s burdens.

“They say this domain is behind the times.”

The Count sighed. Everyone knew this was a frontier region. It was a remote place, far from major transportation routes. So the statement that it was “behind the times” wasn’t entirely wrong, but it was certainly offensive to hear.

“They even talk about revolution. I couldn’t make sense of it. A world without masters, workers and capitalists, chains and whatnot…”

“That kind of talk might work in cities. Or on large plantations with many serfs. But would it resonate with the people here, most of whom are independent farmers?”

“When it didn’t work well, they started tempting the young people. They say it’s a national waste for them to rot in this backwater when there are opportunities to make big money elsewhere. The gist is that they should swim in bigger waters. Do you intend to leave them be?”

The Count was troubled. This type of visitor was a first in his long history. Perhaps the world outside had changed far more than he thought, which made the Count anxious. Had his protection actually stagnated his people?

“Let’s look into it for now. This is the first time we’ve had such visitors. Please investigate more thoroughly, and though it’s troublesome, please ask the chamberlain to speak with the five village chiefs.”

“I will do so. And…”

Worry creased the chamberlain’s face. Should he speak or not?

“Go ahead. What is it?”

“A wolf has appeared.”

As expected, the Count lowered his head and laughed.

“My goodness, chamberlain. I hate to say this, but these days, even a mediocre shepherd can drive away a single wolf, can’t they? And it’s not even the season for wolf packs to migrate.”

“I knew you’d react this way, which is why I hesitated to mention it.”

Wiping his eyes, the Count apologized.

“I’m sorry. I apologize. If it caught your attention, there must be something to it. What has this wolf done?”

“It doesn’t do anything, just watches. Watches those merchants.”

The smile disappeared from the Count’s face. The chamberlain’s expression was equally serious.

“It’s as big as a young bull and travels alone. No one dares to confront it, and it shows no fear of humans yet evades hunters with ease. Its fur is black. Judging by its glossy coat, it’s not an old wolf expelled from its pack. It’s a healthy male.”

“No hunter has been able to catch it?”

“None, they say.”

The chamberlain confirmed. It was strange. The hunters in the Count’s domain were very skilled. The sale of high-quality fur and pelts was the domain’s main source of income, so hunters knew techniques to effectively kill without damaging the hide.

Yet this wolf had escaped all their attempts. The fact that it could get close enough to observe the “merchants” meant it had come close enough to human settlements to be noticed in the village. That was uncharacteristic for a wolf. Perhaps for an old wolf driven from its pack and targeting weak humans, but a young male?

“Shall we go night hunting together like in the old days, Count?”

“So I can deliver the final blow to what you’ve already caught, like before?”

“What could be more important than the finishing touch?”

The Count and the chamberlain shared a laugh, reminiscing about old times. Regarding the wolf issue, they decided to settle it by placing a bounty from the Count’s family. Stretching his body, the Count gazed at his peaceful domain. Three thoughts came to him simultaneously: that he was being too sensitive and overworking lately; that he should pass on the position of blood lord to one of his children before times changed further; and that the new blood lord should be his least sensitive child.

The Count had never considered himself particularly sensitive, but looking into someone’s life was an exhausting task. He thought it would be less painful for someone insensitive and bold to handle such matters. If anyone were to take over, the Count thought his eldest daughter would be best. She resembled her mother more than anyone—brave, with clear judgment, and remarkably insensitive to matters outside her interest.

Of course, good qualities don’t necessarily make a good leader. In fact, the succession process had already begun. By now, the Countess would have instilled the basic concepts of leadership in the children. After learning more, undergoing appropriate training and evaluation, a suitable child would be determined. Then the Count planned to pass on the position of blood lord and the title of Count to that child.

Passing on the blood lordship doesn’t mean immediate death. It just means that the delayed aging process would naturally resume. In fact, the procedure had essentially already begun. When that happens, just like the subjects who died peacefully in his territory, he too would grow old with his beloved wife and precious children, quietly watching new sunsets.

A sweet future indeed.