Chapter 392: A Vampire’s Curiosity

Stan drove back through the quieting streets, the Audi’s engine a low, steady hum. He parked in his usual spot in the underground garage and stepped out. After storing everything he had bought at the Hub in his inventory, he walked toward the elevators.

He stopped just short of the doors, however, and tilted his head upward, eyes half-lidded as his senses stretched.

Camilla was back. She was on the roof of the building, exactly where she had settled the night before.

A faint smile ghosted across his mouth. He remained still, waiting.

Above, Camilla felt the brush of his awareness. For a moment she stayed where she was, crimson eyes narrowed at the empty blue sky. Then, with a silent push of her feet, she left the roof. Her descent was unhurried, almost languid; she drifted downward as though gravity itself had politely stepped aside. No rush of air, no sound. She simply lowered herself through the open space until her boots touched the concrete beside him without the slightest noise.

She stood there for a beat, posture straight, chin slightly lifted.

"You seem to be having a lot of fun..."

The words were delivered in the same cool, faintly accusing tone she had used the previous night. Jealousy sat just beneath the surface, carefully masked and yet not quite hidden.

Stan almost smiled. He kept his expression mild. "Well... yeah."

Camilla’s gaze lingered on his face longer than necessary. Then, as if catching herself, she looked sharply to the side. A small, unconscious pout tugged at her lower lip.

Stan spoke casually, as though commenting on the weather. "Where have you been? I couldn’t sense you when I woke up."

She folded her arms loosely, still not looking at him. "Well, I’m having fun just like you did all night long with your ’girls’"

The words were deliberately airy, as though she had been out enjoying herself rather than simply watching the moon and stars at night and wandering during the morning in restless silence.

Stan’s eyes flicked briefly toward the upper floors. "And staying on the roof like that... what if somebody saw you?"

Camilla finally glanced back at him, a spark of pride in her crimson eyes. "My aura and my presence were fully suppressed, both while I was up there and while I was coming down. If I don’t wish to be noticed, no new-age human or any of their little toys can detect me."

Stan gave a small nod. "Good."

It seemed she had finally begun to understand his reasoning she never understood before...

Without another word Camilla stepped into the open elevator. The restless energy around her was still palpable, tightly controlled but not entirely hidden. Stan followed, pressed the button for his floor, and the doors slid shut. The cabin began its smooth ascent.

For a while neither of them spoke. Only when Stan had quietly confirmed there were no cameras did he break the silence.

"So... what do you think of Earth so far?"

Camilla kept her eyes on the glowing floor indicator. A soft, dismissive sound left her throat.

"Hmph. No matter what toys they come up with, ants will always be ants. Even if some of those toys are... a little interesting."

Stan’s mouth twitched. He forced the smile to stay mild and turned his gaze forward again.

’I guess it’s going to take some time for her to change that perspective.’

The elevator chimed softly as it reached his floor. The doors slid open, and the two of them stepped out into the quiet hallway before Stan unlocked the apartment and pushed the door wide. They entered without ceremony.

Camilla’s gaze drifted almost immediately to the large bed against the far wall. The sheets were freshly changed, the surface smooth and undisturbed, yet her mind filled in every detail of the night before with unwelcome clarity. Sophie’s arched back. Maya’s soft moans. The way Stan’s hands had gripped and guided. The wet sounds, the low groans, the way both women had looked at him afterward with such open, sated affection.

A faint warmth rose in her cheeks before she even realized it. She turned her face slightly away and drew a slow, deliberate breath.

’Calm down, Camilla. Calm down. Don’t get riled up over this...’

Across the room, Stan paused just inside the doorway as a translucent panel of text flickered across his vision.

[Side Mission Completed.]

[Objective: Travel to Antarctica.]

[Status: Completed]

[You’ve gained the Profession Skill Chef (Master).]

[+20% Proficiency when cooking...]

Knowledge flooded in at once, techniques, ratios, timing, the subtle differences between ordinary ingredients and those that carried residual energy.

Mundane mastery settled into his mind with crystalline clarity, followed by more specialized fragments: methods for preparing Qi-infused beasts, mutant flesh, even a handful of dishes that carried an oddly familiar resonance, as though they might appeal to something beyond human tastes. Compared to the Pilot mastery he had once received, this felt deeper, broader, more immediately useful.

He glanced toward Camilla.

She caught the look at once. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she turned her face further to the side, arms loosely folded.

"What?"

Stan’s mouth curved in a mild, unbothered smile. "Care to eat good food?"

The question made the memories of the previous night flicker through her mind again. She kept her gaze firmly averted, chin lifting a fraction in practiced indifference.

"None of these new-age human dishes interest me," she said coolly. "Human blood is the best delicacy there is."

Stan’s smile didn’t fade. "Don’t worry. You’ll be surprised."

Camilla gave a small, noncommittal shrug, still not looking at him. Curiosity tugged at her despite the sharp words, and she made no move to leave or object. If he wanted to waste time cooking, that was his business. She simply happened to be... present.

Stan took that as acceptance enough. Still faintly amused, and more than a little eager to test the new skill, he turned and walked toward the kitchen.