Chapter 78: The Intoxicating Sanctum: Anomaly or Secret?

The sharp, sickening CRACK of bone echoed violently against the cold masonry, instantly followed by the high-pitched scream of the chef as he clutched his broken fingers.

He didn’t look like a typical, low-tier kitchen worker. While his apron bore the stains of the scullery, his uniform was a strange, next-level contradiction- far too unpolished to belong to a high-ranking military general or the elite guard, yet styled with structured shoulders that gave off a distinct, medium-ranked authority over the household slaves.

Wincing through the pain, the chef dragged his boots against the dirt floor as he staggered to his feet.

He raised his good arm and bellowed at the top of his lungs, his raw voice echoing off the stone: "In the sake of Lord Vilucious, make way! Clear the path!"

At the sound of the command, a chaotic flurry of rustling fabric and scraping sandals filled the corridor as the sea of lower slaves instantly parted, their backs thudding hard against the damp walls.

As the passage cleared, leaving only the steady, rhythmic drip-drip of a nearby pipeline, the injured chef didn’t glare or curse. Instead, he let out a ragged breath, looked directly up at Kerwon, and offered a sharp, approving smile despite his shattered bones.

The heavy, metallic THUD of Kerwon’s armored boots paused for a single fraction of a second. His scarred face shifted, letting out a low, dry grunt that formed into a cold smirk... nothing personal or warm, just a brief, ruthless acknowledgment of the man’s absolute submission to the hierarchy.

Then, the rhythmic, deafening CLANG of his heavy march resumed, moving further down the cleared passage without breaking pace.

Cassius kept his expression entirely flat, but his eyes narrowed as he watched the rigid military display. He had the ideas regarding the strict rules of how this hierarchy operated.

He knew the verbal codes, the forced repetition of their master’s (Lord’s) name, the absolute, unyielding focus that made these men formidable.

Yet, as the heavy thud of Kerwon’s boots ground into the stone ahead of him, a deep, tactical confusion began to bother the vampire slave.

Something wasn’t adding up.

During the paper heist, Kerwon had not displayed the classic, absolute tunnel vision of a high-ranking soldier and a vampire of this kingdom; entirely bound by protocol, that was to focus solely on the primary objective.

It was the weakness Cassius had counted on. But then, the anomaly happened.

Cassius had used a subtle piece of his blood shapeshifting magic to create a minor distraction that day. Legally, logically, a soldier trapped in absolute military tunnel vision shouldn’t have noticed that to protect the target.

Instead, Kerwon had reacted. He had been distracted by it, even if only for a fraction of a second. It happened even when Cassius’s didn’t uttered a word, that would reach to his ears.

Cassius intensely analyzed the memory, his gaze locked onto the scarred back of the governor’s neck. If Kerwon’s rigid, rule-bound tunnel vision was genuine, he never should have noticed the magic. But if he did notice it...

A cold, calculated thought settled in Cassius’s mind as the heavy iron gates of the upper courtyard began to groan open before them.

Is this Bastard King’s personal assistant actually blinded by his rules... or is he hiding a secret awareness that breaks the standard system entirely?

As the heavy iron gates groaned open, the sound scraping against the stone walls as they stepped straight into the inner sanctum.

Inside lay a colossal, jaw-dropping bath hall that seamlessly blended ancient monarchal architecture with sleek, high-end modern technology. Neon-blue pulsating high-tech water filters. The room is saturated with the heavy, metallic steam.

Soaring stone arches disappeared into a thick canopy of rising steam, while clean, precise lines of synthetic light tracked along the polished black marble floors, reflecting the grand scale of the room.

At the center of the hall sat the focus of the wealth: a massive, steaming pool lined with raw, uncut diamonds that caught the light, bordered by heavy, ornate gold trim. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

Advanced technological filters pulsed softly beneath the shimmering surface, glowing with a low violet hue and humming with a rhythmic vibration that resonated right through the soles of Cassius’s bare feet.

Lord Vilucious faced completely backwards, ignoring the room behind him as he rested lazily against the gilded edge of the pool.

Two elite vampire women dressed in ultra-modern, minimalist short silk attire: drape lazily across the gold and diamond-trimmed rim of the massive pool, their soft, echoing gigglings filling the area. They were around him like silk, their fingers moving in slow, practiced strokes across his shoulders.

He paid absolutely no attention to the heavy march of the guards or the presence of the captive slave.

Instead, he lifted a heavy, dark chalice to his lips, drinking a deep, dizzying blood-wine; a bizarre, highly concentrated mix of potent alcohol and raw blood. The sweet, metallic fumes of the drink hung thick in the humid air.

It was an intoxicating blend that left even the supreme ruler visibly altered; his normally rigid posture was loose, his movements slowed, and his expression entirely indifferent to their arrival.

Kerwon broke his rigid march, bringing his armored boots to a synchronized halt a few paces behind the pool with a loud, metallic clank.

The silence of the hall stretched out, broken only by the low, electrical WHIRR of the neon-blue filters and the quiet, echoing giggles of the women.

Suddenly, one of the elite women shifted her weight with a soft rustle of her minimalist silk attire. She slithered entirely onto Vilucious’s lap, wrapping her slender arms tightly around his neck in a desperate, clingy embrace.

She rested her chin on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles against his skin as she murmured something into his ear, followed by a high-pitched, echoing laugh that bounced off the high stone arches.

Taking a half-step forward, the governor cleared his throat, letting out a sharp, deliberate cough-

"Ahhum..."

...that rattled loudly through the humid air. He waited, his posture turning perfectly stiff as he anticipated the monarch’s reaction.

Nothing happened.

Lord Vilucious didn’t turn his head. He didn’t shift his shoulders or lower his chalice. The clingy woman simply snuggled closer into his lap, her soft giggling continuing as her companion kept up the slow, rhythmic strokes across his skin, completely ignoring the massive warrior standing at attention behind them.

And then-