Chapter 8: Chapter 8: The Banquet

The last time they met, Chloe had only grazed Xavier’s skin, and the price she paid was a single broken fang.

Now, things are different. After days of training, that lone tooth sank effortlessly into Xavier’s flesh.

A small round wound bloomed with fresh blood, dark and vivid, staining the hem of the progenitor’s immaculate white coat.

Xavier did not even flinch.

He merely lowered his gaze to the little pureblood still biting into him and said evenly, “What is it? Have you decided you don’t want that tooth anymore?”

Chloe ignored him, jaws clenched tighter, her fang piercing deeper as the blood flowed freely.

Xavier seemed immune to pain. After a long moment, he raised his hand, tilting her head back and forcing her to release him.

Even then, her crimson eyes still burned with ferocity, staring up at him as though he were her mortal enemy.

Blood dripped down her soft pink lips — part hers, part his — a messy, unsettling sight.

Corwin handed over a handkerchief, and Xavier took it, intending to wipe her mouth clean.

But Chloe, brimming with defiance, struggled violently, refusing to let him touch her.

At last, she squirmed free from his arms, darted forward, and wrapped her tiny arms around Corwin’s leg, trying to climb him instead.

Corwin’s heart melted instantly. He scooped her up and, a bit flustered, reclaimed the handkerchief to gently clean her mouth himself.

This time, Chloe didn’t resist. She sat quietly in his arms, obedient and calm — a striking contrast to how she had behaved in Xavier’s embrace.

Now, just seeing Xavier irritated her. What kind of father throws his child off a rooftop without warning?

What if she had died?

Chloe thought about how little time had passed since her rebirth — she cherished her second life far too much to lose it so easily.

When Xavier made a move as if to approach, Chloe rolled her eyes dramatically, clutched Corwin’s neck, and buried her face against him, ensuring Xavier couldn’t see her at all.

Corwin stood there awkwardly, giving Xavier an uneasy smile.

“Ah… my lord, shall I tend to your wound?”

The moment the words left his mouth, the little pureblood in his arms began pummeling his shoulder with tiny fists, as though threatening to sever all ties if he dared to help.

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Corwin faltered, utterly at a loss.

Xavier, however, looked entirely unconcerned, even faintly amused.

“Take her with you,” he said softly. “Make sure she has something suitable to wear. There’s a banquet tonight.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Moments later, Xavier departed.

Corwin patted Chloe’s back gently. “All right, little one, he’s gone.”

Hearing this, Chloe finally lifted her head, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I hate that man. Rotten father!”

Corwin sighed, saying nothing.

Truth be told, it was fortunate the progenitor had reacted quickly — otherwise, with that bite of hers, she might have shattered her last remaining fang.

“He only did it for your own good,” Corwin said gently.

Chloe looked up at him, her gaze icy and sharp — the meaning was clear enough: one more word and you’re next.

Corwin shut his mouth immediately.

But after a pause, he added carefully, “It’s actually a mandatory test for all vampire fledglings — being dropped from great heights to force their wings to emerge in moments of crisis.”

“Oh?” Chloe replied flatly. “And did anyone bother to tell me beforehand?”

Corwin froze, looking away in guilt.

At that moment, Chloe had truly believed she was going to die.

Her mood soured again, and after a beat, she said evenly, “Take me back up there. Throw me again.”

Corwin blinked — then, realizing she was serious, hurried to obey.

Moments later, Chloe fell once more.

This time, she was calmer, though the feeling of imminent death remained sharp and suffocating.

That was the point — to awaken the vampire’s primal instinct through terror, forcing the fledgling’s wings to grow.

It was far from easy. Chloe fell over a hundred times, her shoulder blades burning hotter each round, yet her wings still refused to emerge.

By the end, Corwin tried to soothe her with soft words, but Chloe cut him off.

“Quiet. I know what I’m doing. Stop worrying.”

He fell silent.

The look on her young face was unnaturally composed — cold, even.

And though the words had been harsh, she quickly regretted them.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I know,” Corwin said warmly, brushing a hand over her hair. “You’ve got a good heart, little one.”

Chloe glanced at him, then lowered her gaze.

That evening, a grand banquet awaited — hosted by a powerful vampire duke to celebrate his eldest son’s tenth birthday.

His military prowess was renowned, and as the progenitor, Xavier naturally attended to show favor — bringing along his daughter.

Father and daughter sat in the carriage, each claiming a window’s worth of distance between them.

Through the reflection of the glass, Chloe observed his attire — a meticulously tailored black suit, accented with subtle touches of old-world elegance.

His long dark hair fell silk-smooth down his back.

Chloe brushed her own black locks self-consciously. Too short.

Her expression soured.

When they arrived at the duke’s estate, Xavier stepped out first, circled the carriage, and lifted her into his arms.

Before the eyes of others, Chloe endured his touch without protest — barely.

Along the way, nobles bowed deeply to the progenitor. Some, bolder than others, even dared to praise Chloe’s beauty.

“The perfect daughter of our great progenitor — truly a vision of divine grace and unparalleled charm…”

Chloe turned her crimson eyes toward the speaker — a bald, round man — and bared her fangs, the faintest gleam of bloodlust flickering in her gaze.

A clear and deliberate threat.

The duke immediately fell silent, sweat beading at his temples.

Chloe looked away, unimpressed.

Who flatters a five-year-old with words like ‘peerless beauty’?

Utterly pathetic.

Xavier, on the other hand, seemed in excellent spirits.

When the bald duke finished his sycophantic speech, Xavier’s lips curved faintly, and he tossed the man a small trinket in reward.

The duke’s face lit up with awe — a gift from the progenitor himself, priceless for its symbolism alone.

Instantly, envious gazes gathered around him.

Chloe clicked her tongue softly, muttering under her breath, “Rich fool. Money to burn.”

Xavier heard her.

He said nothing — only patted his daughter’s back, amusement ghosting at the corner of his lips.