Chapter 261: Vlad’s Vault

Victor walked through the inner corridors of the Army Palace without encountering any more soldiers willing to test their own life expectancy. After the little incident at the entrance, word seemed to have spread quickly, because everyone who passed him simply gave a short bow and continued on their way without trying to stop him.

When he finally reached Serafall’s office, Victor opened the door without knocking.

He stopped right at the entrance.

"...Fuck."

The office was destroyed.

Not literally, but close enough.

There was paper everywhere. Stacks covered the desk, open boxes sat on the floor, documents were scattered across the carpet, reports rested on the chairs, and there were even a few sheets trapped beneath a bottle of blood that had clearly been forgotten for hours. Victor had to stare for several seconds just to find patches of floor beneath the mess.

Serafall was behind the desk.

Victor almost didn’t recognize his own mother.

The dark circles beneath her eyes were so deep they looked like they reached her cheeks, her hair had been tied up without any care, and her exhausted expression made it perfectly clear that she had already passed the point where coffee, blood, or sheer willpower could make any difference.

Victor then looked at the couch.

Natasha was passed out.

Not sleeping peacefully.

Passed out.

She was sprawled sideways with one leg partially hanging off the couch and an absurd number of documents covering her body. A few sheets had fallen over her face, leaving only part of her hair and nose visible.

Victor stared for a few seconds.

"Should I be worried about Natasha?"

Serafall didn’t even look up.

"No."

"She looks dead."

"She’s sleeping."

Victor looked again.

"You sure?"

Serafall finally raised her head.

Then she lifted one hand and slapped the air.

A gust of wind tore across the office.

PAH!

The pressure struck Natasha directly in the face.

"I WASN’T SLEEPING!"

She woke up in a panic.

Her body shot upright too quickly, papers flew everywhere, and Natasha completely lost her balance. The leg that had already been hanging off the couch slipped, and she crashed to the floor with a heavy thud.

"I WASN’T SLEEPING! I WASN’T SLEEPING! I WASN’T—"

Natasha stopped.

Looked around.

Blinked a few times.

Victor was still standing near the door.

Serafall calmly returned to the document she had been reading.

Victor closed the door behind him.

"You’re pretty cruel to someone you call a friend."

Serafall shrugged.

"Her problem for sleeping in the middle of work."

Natasha, still on the floor, raised one hand.

"I was resting my eyes."

"For two hours."

"I was thinking."

"Snoring."

"I don’t snore."

Serafall turned another page.

"You snore."

Natasha finally managed to sit up and ran a hand over her face, still trying to understand at what point she had lost the battle against sleep.

Victor began making his way through the office, stepping around the piles of documents.

"How long have you two been like this?"

"Too long," Serafall replied.

"And neither of you thought about stopping?"

"No."

Victor reached the couch.

Natasha finally looked up at him.

Their eyes met.

She froze.

Victor raised an eyebrow.

Natasha still had a sheet of paper stuck in her hair, a red mark on her cheek from sleeping against her own arm, and the expression of someone who had just been caught in an extremely humiliating situation.

She trembled slightly.

Then turned her face away.

"Don’t look."

Victor sighed.

"Natasha."

"No."

"You’re practically falling asleep sitting up."

"I’m perfectly fine."

She tried to stand.

Her knee gave out.

Victor caught her before she could fall again.

Natasha went silent.

So did Victor.

Serafall looked up just long enough to watch.

Victor simply slipped one arm behind Natasha’s back and the other beneath her legs.

"Victor."

He lifted her off the floor.

Natasha immediately went rigid.

"I can walk."

"No, you can’t."

"I can."

"You almost kissed the floor just now."

"It was a momentary loss of balance."

"Of course."

Victor looked around for somewhere to put her.

Couch, impossible.

Desk, impossible.

Almost every chair was covered in documents.

There was only one relatively clear armchair near the window.

Victor walked over to it and sat down, keeping Natasha on his lap.

She remained rigid for several seconds, clearly having no idea what to do with her hands.

Serafall watched them over the top of a report.

"If you’re going to fuck, do it somewhere else."

Natasha immediately turned red.

Victor didn’t even look at his mother.

"Drink."

Natasha blinked.

"What?"

Victor tilted his head slightly, exposing his neck.

"My blood."

She went quiet.

"You’re exhausted." Victor wrapped one hand around her waist to keep her from slipping. "So drink some and stop pretending you’re tough."

Natasha still looked like she wanted to complain.

She didn’t.

After a few seconds, she simply settled more comfortably on his lap, wrapped an arm around Victor’s shoulder, and brought her face closer to his neck.

Her fangs sank in.

Victor felt the bite.

Natasha began drinking slowly.

Almost immediately, her posture relaxed.

Victor ran a hand through her dark hair and calmly began stroking her head.

Serafall watched.

"I still think you two should do that somewhere else."

Victor finally looked at her.

"Do you want to hear why I came here, or do you want to keep talking shit?"

Serafall pointed at him.

"Talk."

Victor took a deep breath.

"Anette called me."

Serafall’s hand stopped over the report.

"I know."

"Of course you do."

"I’m the one who sent the messenger."

"I know that too."

Victor continued stroking Natasha’s hair while she silently drank his blood.

"She apologized for the ball."

Serafall made a small nasal sound.

"Miracle."

"Then she thanked me for what I did during the explosion."

"Another one."

"And then she asked me to marry her."

Serafall went still.

Victor waited.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Nothing exploded.

No desk was broken.

No wall cracked.

Even her expression barely changed.

Victor narrowed his eyes.

"That’s it?"

Serafall raised an eyebrow.

"That’s what?"

"I thought you were going to destroy half the office."

"Why?"

"Because Anette just asked me to marry her."

Serafall looked back down at the papers.

"It’s fake."

Victor went quiet.

Natasha stopped drinking for a second.

Victor looked at his mother.

"You already knew?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

"Because Anette isn’t an idiot."

Serafall separated a few sheets.

"She knows you rejected her publicly. She knows Rakshasa would probably tear her head off if she tried anything serious. And she knows you already have enough relationships to turn a real marriage into a much bigger political problem."

Victor thought for a few seconds.

"So you think I should accept."

"Yes."

The answer came so quickly that Victor almost thought he’d misheard her.

Natasha finally pulled her mouth away from his neck.

A thin line of blood remained at the corner of her lips before she licked it away.

Victor looked at Serafall.

"Say that again."

"I think you should accept."

"You?"

"Yes."

"My mother?"

"Victor."

"The woman who nearly killed people because they looked at me wrong?"

Serafall made a small face.

"Don’t exaggerate."

"I’ve literally seen you threaten people for less."

"This is different."

Victor kept staring at her.

Serafall put down the document.

"It’s only for appearances."

She leaned back in her chair.

"Anette isn’t actually going to have you."

Victor opened his mouth.

Serafall pointed at him.

"And I trust you."

That made him stop.

Serafall continued:

"You’re not going to create a real relationship with that scheming vampire just because there’s a political agreement."

Victor let out a short laugh.

"You make it sound like she’s going to try seducing me during every meeting."

"She’s Anette."

"Fair."

Serafall crossed her arms.

"If it’s really just a fake engagement to redirect political attention, I don’t see enough reason to refuse."

Victor remained quiet for a few seconds.

"Carmilla and Scarlet disagree."

"I figured."

"Scarlet almost had an aneurysm."

"Also figured."

"Carmilla was more rational, but she strongly recommended that I say no."

Serafall thought about it.

"Because of the target on your back."

"Yes."

Natasha, still sitting on Victor’s lap, finally seemed to have recovered enough energy to join the conversation.

"I agree with Serafall."

Victor looked down at her.

"You too?"

Natasha nodded.

Her earlier embarrassment had practically disappeared now that her body was beginning to respond to Victor’s blood. Color had returned to her face, and her eyes were much more alert.

"Actually, I think there’s another benefit."

Victor raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Natasha adjusted herself on his lap without showing any intention of getting up.

"You stop being politically tied only to the Valentines."

Victor frowned.

"I’m not tied down."

"Not literally."

She wiped a drop of blood still lingering on his neck with her thumb.

"But everything you do ends up associated with the family. You’re Serafall’s son, Chysis’s grandson, and officially part of the Valentine structure."

Victor nodded.

"An engagement to Anette ties you directly to the Crown."

Serafall rested an elbow on the desk.

"She’s right."

Victor looked from one to the other.

Natasha continued:

"It also gives you room to ask for something."

"Ask for what?"

Natasha smiled.

"An engagement gift."

Victor went quiet.

Serafall started smiling too.

He noticed.

"Why are both of you making that face?"

Natasha settled a little more comfortably.

"Because there’s something very interesting in the Royal Palace."

Victor narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"Vlad’s Vault."

Victor immediately became more attentive.

"Vault?"

"Private." Natasha nodded. "Don’t confuse it with the Crown’s regular vaults. I’m talking about his personal collection."

Victor looked at Serafall.

She confirmed it with a small nod.

Natasha continued:

"Ancient weapons. Artifacts accumulated over thousands of years. Training methods that were never distributed to the army. Techniques from extinct bloodlines. Objects Vlad simply kept because he decided no one else should have access to them."

Victor already looked interested.

"Very interested," Serafall commented.

"Keep going."

Natasha smiled a little more.

"Gram is in there."

Victor blinked.

"Gram?"

"The Dragon-Slaying Sword."

His hand stopped over her hair.

"Are you serious?"

"Completely."

Victor knew the name.

Even if he had never seen the weapon, it was difficult not to recognize a sword with a reputation on that scale.

Natasha rested her head against his shoulder.

"And Gram isn’t even the only valuable thing in there."

Victor kept listening.

"There are other special weapons, ancient artifacts, training methods, records of lost techniques, and things even the army isn’t allowed to study."

Serafall added:

"Vlad’s been collecting rare shit for a long time."

Victor looked at her.

"You’ve been inside?"

"Once."

"And?"

"He kicked me out."

Victor started laughing.

Serafall made a face.

"I tried to take something."

"You stealing something rare? What a surprise."

Serafall narrowed her eyes.

Victor immediately remembered the genetic sample.

"Sorry."

"You don’t sound sorry."

Natasha continued:

"If Anette really wants this engagement as a political tool, you can turn it to your advantage."

Victor thought for a few seconds.

"Ask for access to the vault as an engagement gift."

"Exactly."

"And take anything?"

Natasha raised one finger.

"Negotiate."

Victor began to smile.

Serafall noticed.

"I know that face."

Victor rested his head against the back of the armchair.

"Carmilla and Scarlet are going to kill me."

Natasha shrugged.

"Maybe."

Serafall did the same.

"Probably."

Victor looked at both of them.

"But you think I should accept."

"Yes," Serafall replied.

Natasha nodded.

"Yes."

Victor let out a long sigh.

"So now it’s two against two."

Serafall raised an eyebrow.

"You’re actually taking a vote."

"I told you I was."

Natasha closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder again.

Victor continued stroking her hair as he looked at all the paperwork scattered throughout the office.

Then his thoughts returned to Anette.

Three days.

Now he had four opinions...

Only Chysis’s was left.