[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]

— Alucard Dracul Tepes, was the Progenitor of the entire Vampire race. He who has no need for shape or form; he appears as a being entirely composed of darkness. In his true form, Alucard has a pair of large wings made of blood, slightly grey skin, eyes with black sclerae and glowing crimson irises, slightly pointy ears and a mouth entirely made of sharp teeth with no lips. His hands were made of sharp, monstrous claws, as were his feet. He has patterns of black tattoos wandering across his body as if they were alive.

My head tilted back, staring at the chandelier, disbelief written all over my face.

"...Am I really supposed to defeat such a creature?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

I glanced back at the open book — its ink almost pulsing, like it was bleeding through the page. The old parchment trembled faintly under the light, and I could feel the residual malice radiating from the name itself: Alucard Dracul Tepes.

The Progenitor Vampire. The First Blood. The Nightborn Apex.

Even reading his description sent a chill down my spine. "No need for shape or form," it said — meaning he was beyond flesh, beyond mortality, beyond reason.

I exhaled through my teeth."Yeah… sure. No problem. Just another godlike monster who could erase me with a blink."

The sarcasm didn't help.

And certainly the next line didn't help either.

— Alucard is the Progenitor of Vampire; his special ability is to control souls. This ability is exclusive to a vampire progenitor. The progenitor of vampires also acts as the "Akashic Records"; in reality, it's on a much smaller scale and limited only to souls. This includes Memory Reading, Soul Consumption, Soul Storing, Soul Destruction, and Existence Erasure, among other things.

"The lion... the witch... and the audacity of this BITCH!"

'Among other things?'

"You fucker think this is less terrifying than fighting a god?!" I hissed under my breath, slamming the book shut as if that'd somehow shut up the existential dread, too.

The chandelier above flickered, the air itself shivering in response. A faint rumble rolled through the manor's walls — not an earthquake, but something deeper. Like the building remembered that name.

'Calm down, Dominic,' I told myself. 'It's just text. Old, cursed, possibly sentient text… but still text.'

The moment I looked away from the table, however, the faint outline of crimson mist began to curl out from beneath the book's cover — delicate, serpentine tendrils that writhed with malice before fading.

My pulse quickened.

"Oh no, no, no. We are not doing haunted tomes today."

The Lucifer System didn't respond — as usual. No pop-up, no warning, no smug line of text saying [Cursed Artifact Detected].

It just watched. Always watching, never speaking unless it wanted something from me.

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "Right… I'm on my own."

I reached for the cup of tea Zeraphira had left me earlier — now stone cold — and took a long sip anyway. My reflection rippled in the surface: pale, tired eyes under dark circles, snow-white hair slightly dishevelled. I looked like a scholar about to fail his thesis defence against a literal demonic god.

Focus.

The tome was titled "Codex of Nocturnal Sovereigns".

A name that carried too much gravitas, too much ancient arrogance — like it expected you to kneel before even flipping a page.

I ran my finger across the embossed sigil on its cover. It felt wrong. Not just cold — hungry. Like it wanted to taste the pulse beneath my skin.

My hand jerked away on instinct.

Thoughts raced through my mind one after another...

"So he is sealed... like good tens of millennia ago by Grandpa Lucifer alongside his castle. And he is a vampire, Progenitor or not, should've drunk blood for as much time. Sooooo... HE MUST BE SUPER WEAK!"

My elevation was quite something. I know I'm just trying to make myself feel better, but damn—sometimes you need a good lie to stay sane.

"Yeah, yeah, totally weak," I muttered, pacing around the table. "Probably just a dried-up raisin of a vampire, waiting for someone to sneeze on him and turn him to dust."

The silence that followed was not comforting.

The silence that followed was not comforting.

A faint, almost imperceptible hum began to build from the book — like a single note held on a dying organ. The crimson sigil on its cover flickered once. Twice. Then dimmed, retreating back into stillness.

I froze.

"…That was not me," I whispered.

Nothing.

"BOOOO!"

"AHHHHH, I'M TOO PRETTY TO DIE!"

I stumbled back so hard my heel caught the edge of the rug, and I nearly went sprawling face-first into the fireplace. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to file for emergency evacuation.

"Hahahahaha!"

Then the laughing face of Zeraphira came into view — half amused, half mockingly proud of herself.

Her long, silky crimson hair framed her pale face like a halo dipped in bloodlight, and the flickering chandelier made her eyes glow a mischievous gold. The sound of her laughter—low, lilting, and utterly self-satisfied—rolled through the library like music meant to embarrass me to death.

"Ah~! I wish you could've seen your face, my darling!" she managed between giggles, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. "You looked like a mortal who just realised ghosts are real!"

"I am a mortal!" I snapped automatically, still clutching my chest like it was holding in my last shred of dignity. "Or close enough! Don't sneak up on me like that when I'm reading about cosmic bloodsuckers!"

Zeraphira tilted her head, mock-innocence dripping from every syllable. "Oh, but you were talking to yourself again. Loudly. I thought perhaps the book was responding~"

"It was humming!" I jabbed a finger at the Codex, which now sat suspiciously quiet, its surface as still as stone. "That's not normal behaviour for literature, in case you missed the memo!"

She sauntered closer, the soft rustle of her sheer night gown whispering against the polished marble floor as she approached. The dim light made her seem almost ethereal, her bare feet silent as a predator's.

"Oh, darling…" Zeraphira purred, leaning over the table to inspect the Codex, her crimson hair cascading like a curtain of living flame. "You're trembling. Were you really that frightened by an old book?"

"I wasn't trembling," I lied. "It was… an involuntary vibration of my survival instincts."

She smiled — that sharp, dangerous kind of smile that carried more power than any spell. "Of course. My brave prince, slayer of rugs and teacups."

I groaned. "You're enjoying this far too much."

"Immensely."

Her fingers hovered over the tome's surface. The second her skin nearly brushed the cover, the air shuddered. A faint pulse of crimson energy rippled outward, making the candle flames twist and elongate like terrified souls.

Zeraphira's pupils narrowed. "Interesting."

I shallowed, "Not gonna ask, what I am doing reading... bloodsucker's biography, huh?"

"Diography? What does that mean?"

Zeraphira's tilted head, that innocent gleam of curiosity— It was maddening.

Especially when she leaned forward, her nightgown shifting just enough for my brain to short-circuit for a half second too long.

I swallowed hard. "Biography," I muttered, forcing my gaze back to the damn tome. "I said biography."

"Ah~" she whispered, her voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "For a moment, I thought you were inventing new words to distract me."

"I should," I muttered under my breath. "Might save my sanity one day."

Zeraphira giggled softly, circling around the table like a cat appraising a mouse she already owned. Her crimson gaze was sleepy with desire dripping. "Darling, are you finished here? I was tired of waiting and waiting for you in bed. Can we consummate our marriage already? I'm tired of waiting~"

About that... actually, we did everything... except the insertation part, which I was avoiding for some reason, even though I don't know why.

The rest of her sentence melted into the air like sin whispered through perfume.

I coughed. Twice. Then thrice. "Ahem. Zeraphira, we talked about this—uh—right now, I'm studying something extremely dangerous."

She arched a brow. "A book?"

"Yes. A book that hums, radiates bloodlust, and possibly houses the soul of a pre-Lilith era abomination!"

Her lips curved in that slow, lazy smile that meant she wasn't convinced—or didn't care. "Then perhaps I should help my darling research… physically." She leaned closer, her breath grazing my ear. "I'm an excellent multitasker~"

I took a deep breath and stepped back, putting the chair between us like it was a holy barrier. "Temptation incarnate, woman. Can you not?"

Zeraphira's crimson eyes were half-lidded. "I could. And I will."

With that, she pushed me to the sofa by the entrance and knelt between my legs. Biting her lower lip quite sensually.

My God!

Her fangs grazed the edge of a smirk, close enough that I felt the faintest brush of heat from her breath. The crimson glow of the candles cast shifting shadows across her face—predatory, beautiful, dangerous in the way roses hide thorns.

"Zeraphira…" I started, my voice a low warning—or a plea, I wasn't sure which.

"Yes, my darling?"

She said it so innocently that I almost forgot there was a cursed vampire god sealed away in a dungeon, and I've a key to it.

"Maybe this isn't the right time," I managed, glancing toward the book. "You know, evil codexes tend to get jealous when they're ignored."

Her chuckle was soft but dark. "Then let it be jealous. It's only paper, you're flesh and soul."

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "You're going to get me killed one day."

zzzz!

And that was the sound of my zip surrendering to temptation...

***

Lemon or Not?

Stone me, I can take it!

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