The Lich of Glory Knight Spirit: Moving towards Krimasha!-Chapter 226 - 02: Going Home (2)_2

Thus, Jones was sent into the bathroom, and accompanying him was his personal maid, Dora.

You think this was because they were both "underage," so there wasn’t any taboo about "gender propriety"? You’re wrong. Adult members of the Blood Clan do this too—it’s a result of their decadent lifestyle. As an upper-level Blood Clan member, having entanglements with a few lower-level Blood Clan members before marriage is almost as normal as breathing. If Jones weren’t still so young, Countess Dracula would already be trying to hold a grandchild. Though honestly, even when Jones comes of age, the chances of that happening would still be remarkably slim.

The Blood Clan can "turn" humans into their kind through an act called "First Embrace," using their own blood to awaken the bitten human and transform them into a vampire. The reproductive speed of this process is terrifying, basically only limited by the availability of "foodstock"—that is, humans. However, vampires created this way are of fairly average strength. They’re collectively referred to as "lower-level Blood Clan members." According to agreements between the Blood Clan and Angels and Demons, this form of "procreation" has long been prohibited.

Blood Clan members with pure lineage, born as vampires into a noble family, are referred to as upper-level Blood Clan members.

Jones happens to be one such upper-level vampire. He has a prestigious surname and... an overwhelming multitude of vampire relatives.

Of course, there’s a third category—a grey area between upper-level and lower-level vampires. These individuals are born into the Blood Clan but have lower-level vampires somewhere in their lineage. Vampires like these are slightly weaker in strength and talent compared to true upper-level Blood Clan members. They are often classified as "lower-level" vampires and typically serve prominent families in positions such as butlers, guards, or maids. Dora, for instance, is one of these.

Nevertheless, whether upper-level or lower-level, the chances of pregnancy among Blood Clan members are exceptionally low. Jones’s parents are deeply in love; they’ve been married for over a millennium, and they’ve only managed to produce a single child—him. Compared to other Blood Clan couples, that’s actually considered fast. Some vampire couples have been married for over three millennia without producing so much as a hint of an offspring.

By the way, every immortal species has its own unique specialty in magic. While the Blood Clan is often mocked as being the most "useless" among the immortal races, they do have a specialty. Their most proficient magic is... well, let’s just say, it’s the kind meant to be used in a room, on a bed, with only two people present. You get the idea—it’s the fun kind. They’ve even developed an entire series of spells for it. You know what I mean.

To avoid getting banned, I won’t get into the details.

...

As Dora scrubbed his back, Jones let out a long sigh, his eyes glazed over.

The bathroom in the Dracula household was, unsurprisingly, luxurious.

Spanning over a hundred square meters, it featured a crescent-shaped large bath. The walls, as well as every other structure, were made entirely of solid stone. The roughness of the material was offset by an undeniable sense of deliberate design. Around the bath stood six life-sized and hauntingly realistic gargoyle statues. Each gargoyle held a stone jug in its hands, from which hot spring water—source unknown—flowed continuously into the bath, ceaseless year-round. Any excess water drained automatically through outlets around the edges, feeding back into the castle’s canals.

In the dim reddish glow of the firelight, the entire bathroom was shrouded in a steamy, mysterious atmosphere, making it undeniably unique in style.

"Are you unhappy to be back home, Lord Jones?" Dora asked softly while continuing her tasks.

"Are you happy?" Jones shot her a sidelong glance.

"Of course I’m happy! It’s been so long since I last saw my parents. I’m even having dinner with them later," Dora replied cheerfully.

"That’s because your parents are normal. Mine, however, are anything but," Jones said with a sigh, adding, "Sometimes I think you’re actually their real child."

"Master and the Countess do treat me very well."

"No, I mean they’re as stupid as you are."

Feeling hurt, Dora hung her head low. Her wide, watering eyes darted toward Jones’s back cautiously. "Is Lord Jones still mad at Dora?" she asked tentatively.

"I can’t even tell if I’m still angry at you or not," Jones lamented, rubbing his temples. "When I first started spending time with you, every single day, I felt like you were going to make me explode. At first, I thought with time, you’d improve. Turns out, as time passed, I didn’t get angry anymore. I just got used to it. Somehow, I even managed not to die from irritation."

Lowering her head even further, Dora stopped what she was doing.

"Keep scrubbing. That’s about the only thing you’re good for," Jones ordered.

"Yes, Lord Jones!" Dora immediately redoubled her scrubbing efforts, working with peculiar fervor.

"What worries me now is tomorrow... Tomorrow is bound to be an absolute disaster." Jones spread his hands and muttered to himself, "Sending letters to inform every single relative... Every. Single. Relative. They’ll all come, just to watch me attend service. God, I can already imagine their smug faces. They’ll probably even ask if I’ve conquered the world yet. How should I respond to that? Should I tell them I spent the last five years pretending to be someone’s kid? I never should’ve come back."

"Maybe it won’t be that bad, Lord Jones," Dora ventured timidly. "Not everyone will necessarily come just to laugh at you."

"Shut up. This entire mess is because of your blabbing," Jones snapped.

"Oh..."

After a while, Jones finally finished his bath and changed into a black suit lined with gold accents. Dora, too, changed into her maid uniform.

"You should head back now. Weren’t you saying you wanted to eat with your parents?"

"It’s fine. I’ll wait until Lord Jones finishes dinner first."

"No need. You can go now."

"Does Lord Jones not require Dora’s service?"

"There are plenty of other maids in the house. Go back already."

"But they don’t know Lord Jones’s preferences."

"Didn’t you hear me? I told you to go back," Jones said, shooting her an exasperated look before storming off, leaving Dora standing there with a deeply wronged expression on her face.

By "going back," it really just meant going down two floors. After all, Dora’s parents were also servants of the Dracula household and lived within the castle.

...

"This idiot," Jones muttered to himself, "She says she misses her parents, yet when I tell her to go eat with them, she dithers and drags her feet. What, am I missing a leg or something? Do I need her by my side just to eat properly? ’Preferences’? My preferences? I’m so mad I’m full already."

The hallways of the Dracula castle weren’t all that different from those of any other castle—red carpets on the floor, rows of stone bricks along the walls, and the occasional painting hung at intervals.

But if you had to pinpoint a difference, it’d probably be how much darker and more decrepit this place was.

The darkness stemmed from vampires’ innate night vision, which meant they had little need for lighting. The decrepitude, on the other hand, could be chalked up to the castle’s immense age. Rumor had it that it was three thousand years old. Although it had undergone repairs many times, ultimately... while human lords can afford hundreds or even thousands of servants, Blood Clan lords have to make do with a few dozen. The result of building such an oversized castle was that many areas were poorly maintained. Cobwebs and layers of dust covered numerous spaces, and some basements hadn’t been entered for a hundred, even two hundred years. Not even Count Dracula himself could recall what was stored in them.

From afar, Jones raised a hand, and the door to the living room swung open on its own.

The room inside was brightly illuminated by candlelight. Facing him was an oval dining table adorned with three branched candelabras and an array of blood-based pastries that covered its entire surface. One had to admit, the Blood Clan was inventive—they could concoct countless dishes from a single ingredient.

In a way, their talent was remarkable, albeit entirely misapplied.

But that wasn’t the main focus. The real highlight was the people sitting around the table. Besides Count and Countess Dracula, there were two others. One was a richly dressed Blood Clan woman with golden hair, fanning herself with a small fan. The other was a young Blood Clan girl roughly Jones’s age, wearing a long orange dress. She too had golden hair, pale skin resembling porcelain, an exquisitely delicate face, and vibrant blue eyes.

Jones froze in the doorway.

The Countess stood up and said softly, "Why are you just standing there? Come in. Aunt Sarah was particularly worried about you. She wasn’t planning to visit until tomorrow, but when she heard you’d be arriving tonight, she rushed right over. Oh, and of course, your fiancée is here, too."

As she said the word "fiancée," the Countess’s gaze slid over to the young Blood Clan girl sitting across from her.

"Wait a second." Jones was stunned. He blurted out, "When did Cousin Susan become my fiancée?"

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