Chapter 437: Trial That Defies Fate (2)

The vampires, who until now had stood listlessly as if uninterested in Lyre’s trial, were visibly startled by her declaration.

What everyone had assumed would be a typical tribunal—an inquisition driven purely by suspicion, without witnesses or evidence—was suddenly overturned by a confession.

In the vampire society, where an unyielding hierarchy ruled, if the Progenitor and Elders believed someone was guilty, a trial wasn’t even necessary.

This gathering was thought to be little more than a formality, mere entertainment.

And yet, the accused had just confessed to the crime.

｢Is that for real? A mere Neonate killed an Elder?｣

｢There were rumors she broke free of the Blood Shackles… are they true?｣

｢A shackle forged by the Progenitor could be broken by her own will, sure, but to think someone from a lower standing could break it too?｣

Even more shocking was the fact that most vampires hadn’t believed Lyre was the culprit.

Vampires, who felt the Blood Shackles more intensely than anyone, had never imagined that a lowly Neonate could kill an Elder.

I glanced at the Elders’ seating area.

Erzsebet wore a soft smile.

Kavila looked stunned.

Lunken, who seemed to have just come for fun, looked bored.

And then there was Valdamir, expressionless as always, watching Lyre in silence.

Of all the vampires, Valdamir was the most political—and thus least likely to let emotions show.

Still, what I read with Mind Reading showed a more colorful inner reaction.

｢…That was unexpected. I hadn’t warned her, but I thought any vampire would naturally deny it｣

Interesting.

Lyre’s abrupt confession wasn’t some pre-arranged scapegoating.

She wasn’t taking the fall for Valdamir.

Then what was it?

This is getting really intriguing.

“…You have confessed to your crime, so you must know the punishment that follows.”

“I do. You’ll take back the blood given to me. That cursed…”

Lyre’s voice trailed off.A brief struggle passed through her expression, a moment of hesitation because she didn’t want to say what she was about to say, but she knew she had to.

She made her choice.

“…The Progenitor’s blood that my father embedded into me.”

With that, Lyre revealed a hidden truth.

Not to save herself, but to tarnish the reputation of her father and master, Elder Luscynia.

Throughout history, scandals have always proved fatal to the powerful.

The fact that it was now happening within the Duchy of Mist, however, was unprecedented.

Tyr, momentarily speechless at the revelation that a vampire had borne a child, was interrupted by a commotion from the other side of the hall.

“Progenitor, we need not listen to more!”

One of Luscynia’s Ancillas suddenly stood up, yelling in outrage.

Her chest bristled with strange feathers and she immediately launched into accusations against Lyre.

“We are not like ordinary humans! Under the great Shackle of Blood, bonds between covens far exceed something so base as biological offspring! Such vulgar concepts apply only to livestock! Lyre is trying to impose a beast’s law onto vampires—!”

“That’s enough.”

– Shhhhk.

A crimson line traced across her chest.

The Ancilla stopped mid-sentence, coughing up blood.

Blood-soaked feathers scattered as Valdamir stepped behind her, holding a thin dinner knife.

As the upper half of the vampire’s body began to tip over, Valdamir calmly reached out to hold it in place and spoke.

“This is the Progenitor’s domain. Lower your voice and remember your manners.”

“I… I’m sorry…”

“For the honor of the late Luscynia, I shall let this slide. Do not make me act twice.”

With that, Valdamir released her.

Her torso slipped back into place and blood bubbles rose as her severed skin twitched and sewed itself back together.

She barely clung to life, collapsing to her knees.

Valdamir, having just demonstrated how easily he could split and restore a vampire’s body, dusted off his hands as if it were nothing.

“There was a brief disturbance. Forgive me for not stopping it sooner, Progenitor.”

Liar.

He could’ve taken her head before she even opened her mouth, yet he let her speak on purpose.

He let her show her hand, all while elevating Tyr’s authority.

Truly political… There’s no better word for it.

“It is fine. Let us move on.”

Regardless of the theatrics, Luscynia’s argument was deemed valid.

Tyr composed herself and spoke.

“She speaks truly. Lyre Nightingale, whatever your relationship with Luscynia, it matters not. He was an Elder. You, his coven, are a Neonate. The crime of a Neonate slaying their Elder is a sin, an unprecedented sin. You shall pay the price for that.”

It was the fairest ruling Tyr could give.

It was what all vampires expected and found most reasonable.

But just as she was about to deliver the final judgment—

“Objection.”

Lyre said, lifting her head.

“Objection?”

A Neonate rebelling against a Progenitor’s verdict?

Unthinkable.

It could not be allowed.

Tyr had no intention of entertaining it, and neither did the other vampires.

But I was different.

Before Tyr could speak, I stepped in.

“If you’re going to object to the Progenitor’s ruling, you must have a very good reason. What is it?”

My official role was merely the Progenitor’s consort.

I was nothing on my own, but my words moved the most important figure in the Duchy.

Tyr leaned back in her throne, giving me room to speak, lending me her authority.

Thanks to that borrowed power, I permitted Lyre to speak.

She answered the question with the calm detachment of a vampire.

“My father deserved to die.”

A family matter seemed to be the driving force of this incident, and not a very vampire-like one at that.

Vampires generally had little interest in domestic affairs.

Earning grudges was common for beings who lived for centuries.

But I wasn’t a vampire.

An Elder’s family scandal?

Now that was something I had to know.

I read Lyre’s mind.

I read Valdamir’s.

From that, I knew Lyre was not the killer.

Valdamir was.

But even Mind Reading has its limits.

Like reading two books that only contain facts, there were still shaded parts left unread.

What I could read was only what the person knew.

The absolute truth beyond that remained unclear.

Normally, I’d shrug it off and move on.

But when I read those two, their intent… it only made me more curious.

Lyre had tried to kill the Elder.

Valdamir had tried to save the Elder.

And yet, the result was the complete opposite.

“The late Lord Luscynia. Could we hear why, exactly, he deserved to die?”

“He killed my mother…”

“Whoa, slow down. If you jump into it like that, no one’s going to feel anything. Start from the beginning, if you can.”

To uncover the truth hidden in darkness, I wanted to hear Lyre’s story.

Perhaps it was her youth, or simply her nature, but she understood what I meant and began her explanation calmly.

“My father was an Elder, as everyone knows. The powerful and ruthless Blood Aura Practitioner, Lord Luscynia. In contrast, my mother was a refugee who wandered outside the country and came to the Duchy to survive. She had no strength, no wealth, no family or connections. She came alone, hoping to survive by selling her blood.”

“I think I’ve heard something like that before. There were rumors that the Duchy buys blood under the table.”

“Those rumors are true. New refugees have a different taste in blood compared to the locals and for vampires who enjoy fine tastes, these newcomers are a rare treat.”

The taste of blood might not vary much to humans, but for vampires who’ve lived for centuries, even the subtlest nuances can become a refined distinction.

“My father was no exception. His coven was notoriously rough with humans, so he was always short on attendants and thus constantly thirsting for blood. Refugees with no knowledge of vampire customs were easy prey for him. That’s where he met my mother… and something horrible happened.”

“Horrible?”

“He found her blood to his liking. Very much so. A man who’d never taken a consort in his life immediately made her one.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound so horrible. Isn’t that kind of what she was hoping for?”

At first glance, it might not seem terrible.

In the Duchy, pleasing an Elder’s palate was a blessing.

Just look at me.

As the Progenitor’s consort, I get to order around attendants and roam wherever I please.

In a society with an absolute hierarchy, being a consort is a symbol of power, and it was the only way a “beast” could be elevated to a “pet.”

Even Lyre acknowledged that reality, albeit coldly.

“…There was no issue at first. My mother sold her blood, and my father tasted it. But the problems started afterward. My father was a cruel Elder. He had to possess everything he desired, no matter what it took. My mother had no choice but to endure him.”

“Well, that’s how unbalanced relationships usually go, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. And as their child, I too was a result of that inevitability.”

…Can’t really argue with that.

“But it didn’t stop at just discord. My father didn’t want my mother to die and lose her blood, or grow old and have it change. So he tried all sorts of methods and did all kinds of experiments the Duchy wouldn’t be proud to show off.”

“Experiments, meaning?”

“Too many to name. Mixing her blood with others like a cocktail to increase the quantity. Transfusing it into half-dead humans. Attempting body modification… But his biggest experiment… was me.”

“You?”

Lyre answered without changing expressions.

“If my mother’s blood was that delicious, then her child’s blood must be too—or so he believed. He impregnated her based on that assumption. He even used his own seed, thinking blood that resembled his would taste better.”

“You are saying a vampire sired a child?”

Tyr reacted to the claim that her father was a biological vampire, not just a stepfather.

Lyre, however, didn’t quite give her the answer she wanted.

“Vampires can’t have children, but if a male vampire stores his seed—as my father did—then it’s possible. Since it’s the woman who carries the child.”

“So it is the women who cannot bear children…”

“If they’re female vampires, yes.”

She emphasized the point again before continuing.

“I was created to be a replacement for my mother, but my blood didn’t suit his taste. That was fortunate. If it had, he might’ve used me as he did her. In the end, most of his attempts to preserve her blood failed. Because she was still human, he feared killing her by accident. Not out of love, but because then her blood would be gone.”

Even her sarcasm was cold.

The so-called Doctor Sage spoke of her past in a tone as chilly as her expression.

“Believing her fragility was the problem, my father… foolishly turned my mother into one of his retainers.”

“I’m just a human, so I might not get it—but why is that foolish?”

“Because the moment he shared his blood and gained control, it was already spoiled. The taste disappeared. She had to consume other blood to sustain her Bloodcraft and he could no longer enjoy her blood as he once did. He ruined what he so desperately sought.”

With a wry smile, Lyre looked around the hall and said,

“Of course, I don’t expect this story to move any of you. It’s too human for vampires to care.”

But that wasn’t entirely true.

Vampires, who lived in close proximity to humans, understood her hatred for Luscynia through cold logic.

“But even beyond that, there’s a reason all of you should agree my father deserved to die. Because he committed the first and gravest sin…”

And now she stepped beyond logic, into something vampires hated: sentiment.

“To try and bring my mother back from being a vampire, my father researched ways to shatter the Blood Shackles, and he succeeded. I, the one who killed my maker with my own hands, am the proof.”

Several vampires stood up in shock.

The idea that a retainer could go against their maker—a sin against the natural order—was so unthinkable it was never seriously considered.

That’s why, even when Lyre was suspected of murder, no one truly believed it.

But now it had happened.

And the one who did it was right here, speaking.

The vampires were shaken with fear.

If even the Progenitor had broken the shackle, and now someone below had found a way too… then it wouldn’t be long before makers were killed by their own retainers.

And Lyre continued to upend the Duchy with her next statement.

“The one who first committed that so-called unprecedented sin was none other than Elder Luscynia himself.”