Night Lily Manor.

The core territory of the Vampire Duke Eleanor, surrounded by three cities, seventeen towns, and numerous villages, all spread out like stars around the moon.

Eleanor's territory borders the north of Duke Sigmund's land and is not on the Empire's border.

Within the territory, there are neither large underground cities nor special mineral resources, and even the land is relatively barren, yet it is still an indispensable part of the Empire.

Because seventy percent of the blood plasma in the entire Hermit Empire is produced here.

Amongst the dozen blood farms that operate day and night stretches the Mourning Lily plantations, nourished by the fertilizer of corpses.

"Master, the twenty premium blood servants and four carts of blood plasma required by the Imperial Capital have already departed at dusk.

Count Duke and Duke Banabas are both urging for this month's blood plasma, but only three thousand two hundred jars are left in stock.

Yesterday, there was an attack incident at farm number 45, where two lower servants were killed and over sixty blood beasts escaped.

It is suspected to be the work of two elves who have recently been committing crimes, and Viscount Ano is dealing with it.

The two thousand new slaves bought from the Archipelago have arrived at Yonglang Port, with 1656 surviving.

Additionally..."

Creamy white petals float in the thick blood plasma, and the manor's steward stands by the side of the bath with his head bowed, hands folded over his belly, diligently reporting on the territory's current status.

Eleanor, devoid of any covering, leans against the edge of the pool, with the steaming blood fog collecting into dark red droplets in the hollow of her collarbone.

A favored servant is soaking waist-deep in the blood plasma, carefully massaging the mistress's ankle.

"Among the surviving slaves, how many are potential candidates to be nurtured as blood servants?" Eleanor asks softly with her eyes closed.

"According to your newly issued selection criteria, we've initially identified thirty-seven suitable individuals, including five beastmen..."

Greyish-blue nails suddenly grip the pool's edge as the blood plasma trickles down through her fingers. Eleanor half-rises, dissatisfied with her subordinate:

"Beastmen? Their fur gets in the mouth when bitten, what use are they? Send them to the farms."

The steward hesitated for a moment, bending even lower at the waist: "Master, Count Duke specifically requested beastman blood servants."

"Ah, that brute..."

Eleanor pushes away the damp hair sticking to her chest, seemingly recalling such a request.

"Then keep them, no need to ask me about this matter.

If there isn't enough blood plasma, prioritize supplying Banabas. As for Duke, it's fine to delay by a week.

And tell Ano, if he can't catch those little thieves, he should replace the defense chief badge with shackles."

As Eleanor speaks, she rises, with blood and petals sliding off her pale skin as she walks out.

The favored servant catches up, wrapping her in scarlet velvet.

The steward also quickens his pace to follow: "Dinner has been prepared for you."

In the parlor of dark red curtains stands a sixteen-year-old girl in a clean dress, with a rosy face and smooth, tender skin.

She's what constitutes dinner.

Unlike those on the farm who huddle by rusty troughs, consuming sludgy mixtures laced with blood fortifiers, continuously extracted and with lifespans of no more than three years.

This one has been carefully nurtured since age ten, with a balanced daily diet, moderate exercise, cultivated into an advanced blood servant.

There are sixty such blood servants in the manor.

Besides their servant duties, they also provide the freshest blood once a month for the mistress to feed.

As usual, the girl unbuttons her collar and obediently approaches the mistress.

Eleanor embraces her, sinking her fangs with precision into the edge of a healed scar from last time.

But this time is different; the mistress does not release her at the appropriate moment.

The girl transitions from enduring, trembling, to finally pleading for mercy.

Throughout, Eleanor remains indifferent, only letting go after draining the last drop of blood, licking her lips as she casually pushes aside the withered body.

The steward, his head bowed, seems uninterested in the loss of an advanced blood servant.

"Phew—"

Eleanor exhales lightly, her skin turning from pale to a healthy red.

Even her height, figure, and appearance change.

In the end, she becomes the spitting image of the newly deceased girl on the floor.

"The summoning is about to start. I'll just use this appearance to blend in for now."

[Stand LV10]

Unlike simple mimicry that only replicates form.

[Stand], one of the rare talents of the Blood Race, allows the stealing of the victim's appearance and even recent memories.

Even [Reconnaissance Skill] cannot detect it.

Once Eleanor reaches the United Kingdom, if she can capture any lone ceremony participant, she can easily blend in.

This is also why the Emperor has tasked her with assassinating the Hero.

"Any developments from Noksefier's side?"

"Lord Noksefier left his residence two days ago and has been missing since."

Upon hearing this, Eleanor nods.

Although the Hermit Empire is ruled by vampires, under the Emperor, nearly half of the dukes are from other races.

This time, Noksefier, who accompanies her to deal with the Hero, is a Shadow Demon—a spiritual amalgam from chaos, without substance, lingering in the world only through Imprisonment Chains.

Their mission is supposedly a joint effort, but in reality, it's each relying on their skills to infiltrate and then jointly attack.

As for communication and cooperation?

It's nonexistent.

At the summoning site, not sabotaging each other over trophy stealing is considered highly cooperative.

"Master, should we send someone to create chaos, diverting some of the human forces?" The steward timely suggests.

Eleanor thinks for a moment and agrees.

"As for the candidate... Lacus, who lost the Holy Scripture last time, embarrassing me.

Tell him if it's done well, he'll be promoted upon return, if not, he'll die there."

"But I wonder if they will encounter hindrances while passing through Duke Sigmund's territory?" The steward worries.

"He wouldn't dare!" Mentioning Sigmund makes Eleanor irritable.

This war-obsessed fool poisoned and massacred widely on the borders, severely reducing my blood beast source.

Otherwise, there wouldn't be a situation where delaying was needed to meet supply.

That idiot only knows how to kill all the humans without thinking, if humans are gone, will he as a vampire truly drink demons' blood?

The two had undermined each other at meetings and played many tricks on each other's territories, resulting in quite a hostile relationship.

"This is the Emperor's mission; if he dares to mess it up, that's just fine!"

With that, Eleanor transformed into a bat, flying out of the manor through the window.

Once Eleanor was far away, the steward straightened up, glancing at the corpse at his feet.

"Time to cultivate another one…"

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