Chapter 10: Chapter 10: The Ever-Favored Little Miss of the Vampire Clan

Before her crouched a frail, thin child, his golden hair dry and tangled. He huddled in the corner, wrapping his small frame tightly, revealing only a pair of vivid green eyes.

Those eyes were utterly lifeless, fixed intently on the piece of pastry before him.

Chloe frowned, pushing the pastry a little closer.

After a long pause, the boy finally extended a hand, snatching it up in haste. Yet he did not eat, clutching it protectively against his chest.

Chloe observed him, noting the boy’s unusually high level of vigilance.

The other younglings nearby did not understand her actions, but, mindful of their parents’ warnings, they remained silent. They simply stared at the little cripple with puzzled expressions, unable to grasp why this child had won the favor of the little lady.

Chloe had no time to indulge in the whims of these differently-minded younglings. Seeing them linger, she guessed the boy would not dare to eat the pastry with them watching. She waved her hand and led the group away.

The small door creaked shut, leaving the room steeped in gloom once more.

The boy curled on the floor, holding the pastry in his grimy hands, taking a cautious bite. Sweet, soft, and subtly tinged with an unusual iron-like flavor of blood, it instantly filled the emptiness in his stomach.

Holding the pastry, his thoughts involuntarily drifted to the vampire he had seen earlier. Black hair, crimson eyes—the very emblem of royalty.

He suppressed the complex emotions flickering across his face and rose to hide the pastry away.

Outside the room, Chloe extended her senses and, upon discovering the boy had concealed the pastry, raised a brow slightly before departing entirely with the younglings.

Returning to the grand hall, the younglings were still puzzled:

“Little Miss, why did you give that little person with a disability some food?”

“Father says that a vampire without strength does not deserve to exist.”

Such was the creed of the vampire clan. In that light, it was already remarkably merciful of Duke Francis’s family to have kept the boy alive this long. Families of lesser means would likely have abandoned him at birth.

Chloe picked up a few pastries to quiet the curious younglings. “Enough. Stay quiet. What I choose to do is none of your concern.”

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The younglings reflected and realized she was right—Little Miss always had her reasons, and there was no need to interfere. They returned to their play with renewed enthusiasm.

Chloe sat among them, slowly nibbling her pastry. She had been a vampire only a short while and was still unaccustomed to their brutal, survival-of-the-fittest ways. Even in the apocalypse, humans would habitually spare survivors and offer measured kindness.

At five years old, Chloe had no power to reshape vampire society. Even if she could, such deep-seated notions could not change overnight. Moreover, she did not see herself as particularly kind-hearted. Seeing the ragged little boy, she could not help but compare him to herself and the other lavishly dressed younglings around her, feeling a small twinge of pity.

Of course, such pity was modest at best.

Chloe did not linger long among the younglings before Xavier took her in his arms. He brushed his hand over the floral crown atop her head and asked softly, “Who gave this to you?”

Chloe glanced at it, remembering, “Probably another little friend.”

“Quite popular, it seems,” Xavier remarked.

The music above the grand hall slowed, and dancers ceased their movements. All eyes naturally turned to the front of the hall, where the king and the illustrious Grand Duke stood together.

The young duke—originally the centerpiece of the banquet—was overlooked for now, as all attention fell on Chloe. This was, after all, the first public appearance of the king’s child.

Chloe ignored the zealous gazes, shifting restlessly in Xavier’s arms. In her fidgeting, the floral crown slipped, lightly striking Xavier’s face. The onlookers gasped, but the fearsome, formidable progenitor displayed no anger—merely adjusting how he held the child.

Yet the little one, clearly displeased, bared her tiny fangs at him threateningly, only to be gently silenced by the progenitor. Evidently, she was cherished.

The assembly’s spectators, each with their own thoughts, realized that the progenitor had only this one child, destined for endless favor. Strategies would need to be devised to cultivate alliances with her in the future.

At that moment, Duke Francis concluded his blessing and handed the microphone to a ten-year-old boy. Chloe tilted her head to observe him.

The boy wore a fine miniature suit and a small top hat, every movement brimming with noble elegance. He bore no resemblance to the scruffy boy in the small room—except for his golden hair.

Noticing Chloe’s gaze, he finished speaking and met her eyes briefly. Chloe smiled faintly, unsurprised. The boy, however, momentarily froze.

Chloe turned her head away and yawned softly. Tired, she wanted to sleep.

Sensing her weariness, Xavier lowered his gaze, declining Duke Francis’s invitation for her to participate and gesturing to the child in his arms. The duke immediately understood.

The banquet continued in harmonious delight.

Drowsy, Chloe sensed herself cradled in Xavier’s arms, surrounded by numerous nobles trying not to disturb the youngling, their voices hushed. Half-awake, she glimpsed a fleeting shadow in the corner but fell into deep sleep before she could comprehend it.

When she awoke again, she was back in her room—and the first thing her eyes fell upon was a skeleton.

Chloe froze. She drew a deep breath, realizing she was clinging to it with both hands and feet.

Terrifying—nothing could be more horrifying, she thought.

She shook the bedside bell, summoning a servant. The child’s voice, soft and drowsy, was incredibly endearing: “Who brought me to my room last night?”

“Of course, the progenitor,” the servant replied with fondness. “He laid you in bed and instructed us not to disturb you.”

Chloe gritted her teeth. Infuriating—always that worthless father of hers.