The next morning began long before sunrise.
Zephrine had barely slept.
Between the pain in her shoulder, the fear lingering from Snake Valley, and the thought of Lady Avene arriving later that evening, her mind refused to rest peacefully.
Still—
The moment dawn touched the dark windows of the estate, Diora had already put her to work.
And unfortunately for Zephrine…
The lessons never seemed to end.
At first it was organizing.
Then preparing ingredients.
Then folding clothes.
And now—
Washing them.
Zephrine stood beside a large stone basin, sleeves rolled up awkwardly while staring at one of Azriel's black shirts in complete disbelief.
"How can one person own this many black clothes?" she muttered under her breath irritably.
A nearby maid coughed to hide her laugh.
Zephrine sighed dramatically.
Whether she liked it or not, it was becoming painfully obvious that within a few days almost every personal duty related to Azriel would somehow become her responsibility.
And that thought irritated her beyond words.
"I was born a princess," she whispered bitterly while scrubbing fabric. "Not a laundry servant for a bloodsucking tyrant."
Still…
She continued washing.
Because she had no choice.
Later that afternoon, Diora sent her outside the estate alongside Mr. Vender.
Unlike the others in the Dorentis estate, Mr. Vender had always been calm and respectful toward her. He was old—his silver hair and deep wrinkles made that obvious—but there was still strength in the way he walked.
Real strength.
The kind earned through experience rather than appearance.
And according to Diora, he was one of the few people Azriel trusted completely.
Which honestly surprised Zephrine.
Azriel trusting someone at all felt strange.
The streets of Morwayne were crowded compared to the isolated estate. Dark stone buildings lined the roads while cloaked vampires moved through the markets calmly beneath the cloudy sky.
Zephrine stayed close to Mr. Vender while carrying several folded fabrics in her arms.
They eventually stopped at one of the finest clothing shops in the district.
Inside, rich fabrics covered nearly every wall—deep blacks, dark silvers, crimson details.
Very Azriel.
Mr. Vender carefully pointed toward a particular material laid across the counter.
"Lord Azriel prefers this fabric specifically," he explained.
Zephrine touched it lightly.
It felt different from anything she had ever worn before—smooth, cool, strangely heavy yet elegant.
Her brows furrowed.
"Mr. Vender…" she asked curiously, "why is this cloth different from anything I've seen before?"
The old man smiled faintly.
"Because it is only sold in Morwayne," he answered. "And mostly crafted for Lord Azriel himself."
Zephrine blinked.
"…Only for him?"
"Yes."
"But why does he prefer this type of fabric?"
Mr. Vender chuckled softly while the shopkeeper continued packing the materials nearby.
"It is because Lord Azriel has a rather… unusual taste in everything."
Zephrine tilted her head.
"What do you mean?"
The old guard folded his hands behind his back thoughtfully.
"Lord Azriel's choices often leave people confused," he admitted. "But somehow, they always carry purpose."
He glanced toward the fabrics.
"He notices details others overlook."
Zephrine looked down at the material again.
"Oh…"
Mr. Vender gave her a small smile.
"I'm glad you're asking questions now."
She blinked slightly.
"…Why?"
"Because it means you're observing instead of only fearing."
That answer stayed in her mind longer than expected.
After collecting the fabrics, they stepped back outside into the colder streets of Morwayne.
As they walked, Zephrine's attention slowly drifted elsewhere.
To the sword hanging at Mr. Vender's side.
The weapon gleamed faintly beneath the grey light, polished from years of use.
Her eyes lingered on it.
"Mr. Vender…"
"Yes?"
"Can you use a sword professionally?"
The old man looked mildly amused.
"Yes," he answered calmly. "I have quite a lot of experience."
Zephrine looked ahead quietly for a moment before speaking again.
"You know… I had my own sword too."
Mr. Vender glanced at her.
"The night Master Azriel took me," she continued softly. "That was the first time I managed to summon it properly."
A small sadness crossed her face.
"But I barely knew how to use it."
Mr. Vender nodded thoughtfully.
"You can still summon it though, can't you?"
Zephrine immediately looked down at the dark bracelet sealed around her wrist.
Her expression fell.
"No."
Her fingers lightly touched the metal.
"Because of this stupid bracelet."
A faint bitterness entered her voice.
"I can't use magic."
A pause.
"I can't do anything."
Mr. Vender looked at her quietly.
And for the first time in days—
Zephrine spoke honestly.
"I really regret it now," she admitted softly. "I should have learned properly."
Her gaze lowered.
"If I knew how to fight… maybe I wouldn't feel so powerless."
The old guard became thoughtful.
For several seconds, only the sounds of the market surrounded them.
Then finally—
"I think," Mr. Vender said slowly, "I could teach you."
Zephrine stopped walking immediately.
"…Really?"
A faint smile appeared beneath his beard.
"Yes."
Her eyes widened with genuine excitement for the first time in days.
"But," he added firmly, "only if you keep it secret from Lord Azriel."
Zephrine nodded so quickly she almost dropped the fabrics.
"Yes! Of course!"
A small laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
"Thank you, Mr. Vender!"
The old guard chuckled quietly at her sudden enthusiasm.
And as they continued walking through the dark streets of Morwayne—
For the first time since her capture—
Zephrine finally felt something other than fear.
Hope.By evening, the entire Dorentis estate had transformed.
Servants hurried through the halls carrying silver trays and crystal glasses while candles were lit across every corridor. The mansion, usually cold and quiet, now carried an atmosphere of noble elegance.
Everything had to be perfect.
Because Lady Avene was arriving.
Zephrine stood near the entrance alongside the other maids, trying her best to remain composed despite the growing curiosity inside her.
Ever since Diora had spoken about Lady Avene, Zephrine's imagination had been restless.
Beautiful.
Mannered.
A duchess.
A favorite of Lady Isolde.
And apparently—
A woman interested in Azriel.
That thought alone annoyed Zephrine more than she wanted to admit.
Still…
She was curious.
Very curious.
What kind of woman could possibly survive in vampire nobility while staying elegant enough for Lady Isolde's approval?
The massive doors of the estate remained closed while guards lined both sides of the staircase outside. Diora stood at the front, posture flawless as always.
Then suddenly—
A loud voice echoed through the entrance hall.
"LADY AVENE HAS ARRIVED!"
Zephrine jerked slightly from her thoughts.
The doors slowly opened.
And for a moment—
Even Zephrine had to admit the woman was stunning.
Lady Avene stepped inside gracefully, every movement controlled and refined. She looked young, perhaps no older than her early twenties. Soft blonde hair framed her pale face perfectly, falling elegantly beside her cheeks.
Her beauty looked almost innocent.
Dangerously innocent.
Even her small fangs, barely visible when she smiled faintly, somehow added to her charm rather than frightening it.
But what truly caught Zephrine's attention—
Was the gown.
Deep red.
Flowing like liquid silk behind her.
The embroidery shimmered beneath the chandelier light, elegant enough to make Zephrine stare longer than she intended.
As a princess, Zephrine had seen countless dresses.
But this one—
She wanted it immediately.
I've never seen a design like that before…
She was so distracted by the gown that she completely forgot one very important thing.
To bow.
Lady Avene's eyes landed directly on her.
Immediately—
Her expression changed.
A faint frown appeared on her otherwise beautiful face.
"How dare you," a sharp voice snapped suddenly.
One of the maids standing behind Lady Avene stepped forward immediately, glaring at Zephrine.
"You insolent little brat," the maid hissed. "Bow when you stand before Lady Avene."
Zephrine blinked, slightly startled.
Before things could escalate further, Diora quickly stepped in.
"I deeply apologize on her behalf," Diora said smoothly, lowering her head respectfully. "She is still learning. It will not happen again."
Zephrine stiffened slightly.
Still learning?
How humiliating.
But reluctantly, she bowed.
Awkwardly.
Because unlike the others—
She had grown up receiving bows, not giving them.
Lady Avene barely acknowledged her afterward.
She only gave Zephrine a cold side glance before walking past gracefully as if she were beneath notice.
The scent of expensive perfume lingered behind her.
Zephrine slowly straightened again, staring at the duchess's back with narrowed eyes.
"…Rude," she muttered quietly.
Her brows furrowed further.
"She acts like she conquered the world and not just inherited a duchess title."
A maid beside her sighed softly.
"That's fairly common in duch families."
Zephrine crossed her arms.
"Well," she muttered under her breath, "I know how to make it uncommon."
Then she turned and walked toward the kitchen.
Some time later, Zephrine carried fresh linens through one of the quieter corridors of the estate.
The guests had mostly settled into conversation elsewhere, leaving the hall dim and peaceful.
Then voices interrupted the silence.
Sharp voices.
Zephrine slowed her steps.
Ahead, she spotted Lady Avene standing near one of the younger maids.
The poor girl looked terrified.
Lady Avene's beautiful face now looked much colder.
"Mannerless," she said sharply.
The maid lowered her head immediately.
"I-I apologize, my lady—"
"Characterless brat," Avene interrupted with disgust. "Servants like you barely deserve to exist."
Zephrine's eyes widened slightly.
The maid visibly trembled.
And all because she had accidentally crossed paths with the duchess while carrying tea.
Lady Avene scoffed lightly before turning away, her gown sweeping elegantly behind her as she disappeared down the hall.
The moment she left—
Zephrine quickly approached the trembling maid.
"Hey," she said softly. "What happened?"
The maid looked embarrassed.
"I… I accidentally walked in her path," she whispered. "That's all."
Zephrine stared in disbelief.
"That's it?"
The maid nodded weakly.
"We're used to it."
Zephrine frowned immediately.
"You shouldn't be."
The maid gave her a tired look.
"You're new here, Zephrine," she said quietly. "You don't understand yet."
Then she hurried away before saying anything else.
Zephrine remained standing there silently for a moment.
Thinking.
Her annoyance slowly deepened into something sharper.
Lady Avene's beauty no longer impressed her much now.
Not after seeing that.
Zephrine crossed her arms tightly.
"She needs a lesson," she muttered.
A dangerous little spark appeared in her eyes.
"I'll show Lady Avene exactly who's characterless."Zephrine leaned against the kitchen wall dramatically, arms crossed while her mind raced with dangerous levels of curiosity and mischief.
"Okay…" she whispered to herself. "So what exactly am I supposed to do?"
Her brows furrowed deeply.
Then suddenly—
A memory surfaced.
Amaris' voice.
"If you want to defeat someone's ego, first learn their weakness."
Zephrine blinked.
"…Weakness."
She straightened immediately.
"But how am I supposed to know Lady Avene's weakness when I barely know her?"
She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"Hm…"
Then—
Her eyes widened.
"Idea."
A slow grin spread across her face.
And unfortunately for the Dorentis estate—
That grin usually meant trouble.
A little while later, Zephrine blended quietly among the serving maids heading toward the estate gardens.
The afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the dark vines wrapped around marble pillars, giving the garden an elegant but eerie beauty.
And there—
Near the center fountain—
Sat Azriel and Lady Avene.
Zephrine slowed her steps slightly while trying not to appear suspicious.
Then she noticed something.
And nearly choked internally.
What the hell—
Why was Lady Avene sitting so close to him?!
The duchess was practically leaning toward Azriel while speaking sweetly, her smile elegant and carefully practiced.
Zephrine narrowed her eyes immediately.
Personal space exists for a reason, you know.
At that exact moment—
Azriel's gaze flickered briefly in her direction.
Only for a second.
But the faintest smirk touched his lips.
He had heard that thought.
Of course he had.
The annoying vampire could probably hear her thoughts from another continent if he wanted to.
Zephrine quickly looked away.
Focus. Mission first. Jealousy later.
She quietly positioned herself behind the other servants while observing the interaction carefully.
Lady Avene sat gracefully beside Azriel on the garden bench, her red gown spread elegantly around her. Meanwhile Azriel remained perfectly straight and composed, looking entirely unbothered.
Though Zephrine noticed one thing.
He also looked slightly annoyed.
Interesting.
"Oh, Mr. Azriel," Lady Avene said sweetly, presenting a finely wrapped package. "I brought you a special riding suit. I personally selected the fabric myself."
Azriel glanced at it briefly.
"Thank you, Lady Avene," he replied calmly. "But I don't remember asking for one."
His tone was polite.
Cold.
Straightforward.
Lady Avene laughed lightly as if the response didn't bother her.
"I know," she said dramatically. "I brought it willingly. Please accept it."
Then she leaned slightly closer.
"Or do you want me to cry?"
Azriel looked at her silently.
No answer.
From afar, Zephrine watched the interaction with growing disbelief.
Why does she talk like a dramatic theatre actress?
A servant approached with tea and desserts, carefully placing them before the two nobles.
The moment Lady Avene noticed one particular cake, her expression changed.
"Oh!" she exclaimed softly. "Almond cake!"
Then she sighed dramatically.
"So unfortunate. I'm severely allergic to almonds."
Zephrine immediately became attentive.
Lady Avene placed a hand delicately over her chest.
"Once," she continued, "I nearly died after eating one."
Azriel remained calm as ever.
"Glad you survived, Lady Avene."
The duchess smiled brightly.
"Oh, thank you. I'm happy to know you care about my well-being."
And before Zephrine could recover from the secondhand embarrassment—
Lady Avene leaned dramatically against Azriel's chest.
Zephrine stared in horror.
"…Ew."
Meanwhile Azriel looked like a man questioning every life decision that brought him to this exact moment.
But Zephrine barely noticed.
Because her brain had already focused on something much more important.
Allergies.
A slow mischievous grin appeared on her face.
Interesting.
She rubbed her hands together slightly.
Now the real fun begins.
Just as she turned to leave—
Azriel's voice suddenly stopped her.
"Oh? Zephrine."
Her body froze instantly.
"…Where are you going?"
Slowly, she turned back.
Sweat nearly formed on her forehead immediately.
"U-Umm… nowhere, Master," she answered quickly. "I was just preparing lunch."
She bowed politely, trying to look innocent.
Azriel watched her quietly.
Far too quietly.
Then he spoke again.
"Won't you serve tea for us first?"
Zephrine internally screamed.
"…Yes, Master."
Lady Avene immediately looked displeased by Zephrine's presence.
The duchess subtly adjusted herself closer toward Azriel again before speaking sweetly—
"Honestly, Azriel," she sighed, glancing at Zephrine, "some servants here lack proper manners."
Then she added under her breath—
"Especially that characterless girl."
Zephrine smiled.
Sweetly.
Dangerously sweetly.
She approached with the tea tray carefully.
Very carefully.
Lady Avene lifted her chin arrogantly.
And then—
"Oops."
The tea slipped directly onto Lady Avene's expensive gown.
A loud gasp escaped nearby servants.
Lady Avene shot upward instantly.
"My dress!"
Zephrine covered her mouth dramatically.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed innocently. "I'm so sorry, Master! It was completely an accident!"
The overacting was painfully obvious.
But unfortunately—
It was also strangely adorable.
Azriel leaned back slightly, clearly amused despite himself.
A dangerous little smile almost appeared on his face.
Lady Avene looked horrified.
"Do you realize how expensive this gown is?!" she snapped.
Zephrine immediately bowed again.
"Please forgive me! I truly didn't mean it!"
Her fake guilt deserved an award.
Other maids rushed forward to help Lady Avene clean the dress while Zephrine slowly backed away.
Then the second nobody looked directly at her—
She ran.
Fast.
Trying to hide the mischievous grin spreading across her face as new chaotic plans formed in her mind.
What's next?