Two years was neither long nor short.
It was enough time for Lonia Catori to grow from a little girl who could only throw straight punches at wooden posts into a Rank Three vampire capable of forcing the old instructor to take her seriously on the training grounds.
One hundred and four times.
Two years, once a week, one hundred and four times.
Lonia had never missed a single gathering in Maple Town.
Even when she had a low-grade fever once and her legs shook as she climbed down from the carriage, she still hadn't stopped.
Rafina had never missed one either.
Now, Lonia was eight years old.
She had grown nearly a head taller. Her long black hair was still a bit away from reaching her waist, no longer styled in little buns but loosely tied back into a low ponytail with a black ribbon.
Much of the baby fat on her face had faded, revealing an aggressive beauty similar to her sister's.
Rank Three.
The old instructor said her talent ranked in the top five among all generations of the Catori family, but she was too hot-tempered, always striking before she could think.
Eliza offered no praise. She merely had a maid deliver a shortsword on the night Lonia broke through to Rank Three.
It had a gray blade, a hilt wrapped in black leather, and the Catori family crest engraved on the handguard. No message came with it.
Lonia hung the shortsword at her waist, covering it with her cloak whenever she went out.
Today was a gathering day.
In the common living room of the Ten Courts district, Fema was competing with a newly arrived Flame Demon boy to see whose fire was hotter.
Tia leaned against a bench in the corner, a pipe clamped between her teeth, her violet eyes half-closed as she watched the spectacle.
Two years had passed, and she had grown into a girl of about thirteen or fourteen. Her misty-gray hair fell to her waist, and her deep purple silk robe had been replaced with a more form-fitting cut, subtly hinting at her developing curves. Yet, her lazy, world-weary demeanor hadn't changed a bit.
Ellie lay slumped over a low table, her cherry-pink curls scattered across its surface, using a finger dipped in cream to draw Fema's grumpy face on the tabletop.
Sera sat beside her sister, as expressionless as she had been two years ago, her indigo eyes as calm as still water. The only change was that she no longer clutched her sister's hem, though she sat slightly closer.
Lonia stayed in the living room for less than half an hour.
When Fema's fireball contest reached a pitch, she slipped out through a side door.
The maids had already prepared. The vampires who served as maids in the Catori family were usually girls of lower-blood status, which made them sympathize with Lonia and Rafina far more than Eliza ever would.
Besides, every time Rafina saw them, she would softly say, “Hello, big sisters.”
The carriage jolted over the fallen maple leaves.
Deep in her mind, that thread twitched.
Fina, I'm heading out.
...Mm. I've left too. I'll wait for you at the entrance of the town.
What do you want to eat today? Is that roasted chestnut stall from last time still there?
Yes. I saw it when I walked past.
Then roasted chestnuts. And a skewer of candied fruit. The red ones.
...You always want the red ones.
Because they look nice.
Everything was exactly the same as the previous one hundred and four times.
Until now.
Lonia hopped down from the carriage, her leather boots sinking into the muddy ground.
The edge of the maple forest. Under the gloomy sky, the red leaves had lost their usual vibrancy, turning a dull, dark crimson like dried blood. A breeze blew from the depths of the forest, carrying the damp scent of decaying leaves.
She walked along the familiar path toward the town.
After so many repetitions, the maids had long since let their guard down. Around the fiftieth time, the older maid had simply joined the younger one to go off and play.
Though they hadn't forgotten their duties and still kept an eye on Lonia's whereabouts and safety, they were nowhere near as diligent as they had been at the start.
Thus, Lonia walked toward Maple Town alone.
Halfway there, Lonia stopped.
She smelled something.
A vampire's sense of smell was far sharper than that of most races, even more so after reaching Rank Three.
She caught a whiff of something cloyingly sweet.
It was very faint—so faint that an ordinary person would never have noticed. But to a vampire, that cloying sweetness had a very specific name.
Stupefying incense.
Lonia's hand moved to the shortsword at her waist.
It was too late.
The sweet scent suddenly intensified the exact second she recognized it, as if someone had splashed an entire bottle of concentrate right onto her face.
Looking down, she saw a layer of pale purple liquid seeping from beneath the fallen leaves under her boots, rapidly evaporating into a visible purple mist.
A trap.
Lonia's pupils shrank. Holding her breath, magic power exploded within her. She tensed her legs and used Flash-step, her body hurtling to the right.
But she had only leaped half a step when a net flew out from the bushes.
Silver-gray threads unfurled in the air, landing precisely where she was about to land.
The moment the threads touched her skin, Lonia felt a sharp, searing pain—it wasn't an ordinary rope net; the threads were coated in silver powder.
The silver threads bit into the fabric of her cloak, pinning her arms and shoulders. Lonia's right hand was tangled in the mesh, leaving her shortsword jammed halfway out of its scabbard.
She used her left hand to tear at the net, but the instant her fingertips brushed the silver powder, her skin hissed, sounding like red-hot iron branding flesh.
“Ugh—!”
She grit her teeth, swallowing the cry of pain that rushed up her throat.
Three figures stepped out from the bushes.
Leading them was a tall, thin human man wearing a filthy leather vest, with an old scar running across his face from his eyebrow to his chin. In his hand, he held an iron rod with a hook at the end, wrapped in the same silver wire as the net.
Behind him followed two short, stocky fellows. Their hoods were pulled down low, obscuring their faces, though one could be seen carrying a spare roll of silver netting while the other clutched a brass sprayer.
The scarred man walked up to Lonia, crouched down, and tilted his head to study her for a couple of seconds.
He whistled.
“Ho, a pureblood?”
Lonia struggled against the silver net, but every movement only drove the silver powder deeper into her skin.
She glared at the scarred man, her fangs bared through her clenched teeth.
“Let me go!”
“Feisty one, aren't you?”
The scarred man reached out with his iron rod, using the hook at the end to flip back the hood of Lonia's cloak. Her long black hair spilled out, her low ponytail coming undone in her struggle, strands of hair sticking to the silver powder and fallen leaves.
“Black hair, red eyes, skin as white as paper, and she's a real beauty in the making. Tsk, tsk.”
He turned to look at his two companions.
“Does the auction house over in the dark elves' territory take vampire cubs lately?”
“They do. Someone just put up a wanted list last month. If it's a pureblood, the price triples.”
Lonia's blood ran cold at that moment.
A searing rage surged from deep within her chest, clearing most of the dizziness brought on by the sleeping incense.
Her magic power churned violently within her, the silver net tightening against her body and letting out a faint creaking sound.
“You actually dare to lay hands on my kind...!”
“So cocky? Are you from the Catori family?”
The scarred man's eyebrows arched, and then he laughed.
“Who are you trying to fool? A kid of the Catori family walking alone on a path outside Maple Town? If you really were a Catori, then that Eliza woman would be far too irresponsible.”
He stood up, hoisting the iron rod onto his shoulder.
“But if she really does have Catori blood, she'll be worth even more. Come on, load her up. Let's get out of town before dark.”
The silver net was pulled tight.
Lonia's body was dragged toward the bushes, the fallen leaves rustling beneath her.
She struggled desperately, but the burning of the silver powder made every effort bring agonizing pain.
Deep in her mind, that thread suddenly twitched violently.
Fina—!
The moment their mental connection burst open, Lonia poured all of her fear and rage into it.
Don't come looking for me! Go back! There are slavers!
...
Rafina was waiting, leaning against a wooden fence. Her silvery-white twin tails hung over her shoulders, her crimson eyes gazing down the path. Pinned to the collar of her newly fitted dress was that red copper maple-leaf hairpin.
The instant that thread exploded, her body froze, and then her crimson pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Lonia's pain, the burning of the silver powder on her skin, the agony of being bound by the net and unable to move—it all stabbed straight into Rafina's mind along that thread.
Several passersby nearby suddenly felt a heavy weight in their chests. An aura pressed down on them, nearly forcing them to their knees.
They looked toward the source of that aura in terror.
But Rafina was already gone.
Her cloth shoes dashed across the mud beneath the fence, over the stone-paved path covered in red leaves, and onto the trail leading from the town's entrance into the maple forest.
...
In Gloom Castle, the man who had his eyes tightly shut opened them.
“...Oh?”
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