Chapter 11: Chapter 11: I’m Only Five—An Engagement Is Out of the Question

Sleeping the entire night in the arms of a skeleton had dealt Chloe a devastating blow.

Now, clutching an ion cannon in the training room, her shots carried a distinct edge of fury.

When Cowen entered, he was immediately startled by the force radiating from her.

“My little lady,” he asked lightly, “who has managed to anger you this time?”

Chloe ignored him, smoke curling faintly from the cannon’s muzzle. She set the weapon down, crossed to another rack, and picked up a specially forged steel blade, spinning it in her hand with practiced ease.

Cowen, long accustomed to her moods, simply leaned against the wall, watching for a moment before saying casually,

“Do you know what rumors are spreading outside?”

Chloe slammed the blade against the ground, irritation clouding her expression. “How would I know?”

“They’re saying the progenitor’s little one is soon to be betrothed to the eldest son of the Francis family.”

The steel blade clattered to the floor, gouging a thumb-sized dent into the ground.

Chloe frowned slightly. “I’m only five.”

Cowen spread his hands. “Many have their matches arranged the moment they’re born.”

Thinking of the ten-year-old boy from the banquet, Chloe snorted. “I have no interest in little brats.”

At that, Cowen couldn’t help but laugh, glancing down at the milk-sweet bundle of a girl who barely reached his knees. But one sharp glare from Chloe shut him up instantly.

To be honest, Chloe truly didn’t like that boy. For someone so young, he already had the composed manners and foxlike polish of an adult—a sure sign of a scheming mind.

It wasn’t prejudice, just instinct. And Chloe’s instincts told her plainly: that boy was not a good person.

Besides, a rumor was only a rumor. Xavier wouldn’t possibly sell her off into an engagement at her age. It couldn’t be true.

Yet soon enough, Chloe would realize how troublesome this rumor truly was.

The moment she stepped into kindergarten, a flock of curious children swarmed her, bombarding her with questions about the so-called engagement.

Annoyed beyond measure, Chloe snapped, “Nonsense. Now move, you’re in my way.”

Of course, they didn’t believe her.

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Whispers followed her all day, never ceasing for a moment.

Even the chubby boy she had once beaten to tears came toddling over—his name, if she remembered right, was Yavi. He, too, had golden hair, though duller in shade than the Francis heir’s.

Puffing up his chest in a show of dignity, Yavi’s voice trembled despite himself. “Is it true? Are you really going to marry my cousin?”

Chloe looked up at the teary, round-faced boy and suddenly felt like teasing him. “Your cousin? The one who had a birthday recently?”

Yavi thought for a moment, then nodded.

His branch of the Francis family lacked strength and status; they hadn’t even been invited to the main family’s banquet. He had only heard the rumor secondhand. But Yavi’s distress was genuine.

Though she had once beaten him quite thoroughly, his affection for Chloe remained sincere. In his eyes, she was the prettiest girl in the entire kindergarten.

Children’s hearts are simple—they don’t understand rank or bloodline. He only knew he liked her and wanted her to be his girlfriend.

Chloe slid down from the wooden horse and patted his head. “There’s no such thing, don’t worry.”

Hearing that, Yavi’s face lit up—only for Chloe to promptly crush his budding hopes.

“Of course,” she added coolly, “I won’t be your girlfriend either.”

The boy’s little shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Chloe turned him gently by the shoulders and nudged him away.

Just then, a faint sensation of being watched made her pause.

She turned sharply, but saw nothing.

The kindergarten playground was enclosed by metal railings; beyond them lay the open street. The feeling had come from outside.

Chloe frowned—she didn’t like it.

She rose to her feet and walked toward the railing.

The vampire domain was prosperous, scarcely different from human cities. But as most vampires preferred the night, the streets were nearly empty.

Gripping the cold bars, Chloe instinctively extended her senses outward.

Her bloodline’s perception—rare and potent—spread across the entire kindergarten. In her mind’s eye, she accidentally glimpsed Yavi again… kissing one of his little girlfriends on the cheek.

Chloe: “…”

Damn it. A tiny philanderer already. Disgusting.

She pushed the image from her mind and focused further outward.

Soon, she spotted a small boy crouched behind a table.

He looked familiar—golden-haired, green-eyed. The boy from the Francis manor’s small room.

He’d escaped?

As she wondered, the boy suddenly raised his head, sensing her unseen gaze.

In that instant, their minds met—her perception locking with his eyes.

Chloe tilted her head with interest, then blinked her eyes open in reality.

The boy, realizing he’d been noticed, hesitated before stepping out from behind the car.

Dressed in rags, he stopped when he saw Chloe gripping the railing, then approached slowly.

At last, he stood before her. His grimy little hands clutched the bars just above hers.

Chloe studied him closely. Though about her age, he was noticeably taller.

Tch. Wasn’t he supposed to be half-starved? How did he grow so tall?

She dismissed the thought and asked, “What are you doing here?”

The boy pressed his lips together, silent.

After a pause, Chloe changed tack. “Then what’s your name?”

He hesitated, then rasped, “…Anderson.”

Anderson.

Chloe rolled the name over in her mind, tongue brushing her small fangs. Tilting her head, she spoke bluntly,

“You came here to find me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Anderson hesitated, then nodded.

“In that case,” Chloe said lazily, “say what you came to say. Otherwise, I’m leaving.”

Anderson lowered his gaze and whispered, “Don’t marry my brother.”

The words were soft but clear, as though he feared she might not hear.

Chloe’s curiosity sparked. “Oh? And why shouldn’t I? What if I decide I want to?”

The boy was intriguing. How had he found his way here? The Francis estate was far from this place.

Anderson’s eyes were dull and colorless, as if shadows lived within them. But his voice was steady, each word deliberate:

“Edmund is a bad man. Don’t marry him.”