CHAPTER 14: THE CRUEL WAYS OF THE DULCAR

Despite the help of that mysterious, captivating girl with blue eyes and brown hair, nothing really changed—the other familiars keep ignoring me or glaring at me with contempt.

I sit at a table on the edge of the vast cafeteria.

It has six seats—four are empty, while the other two are taken by me and Gerard.

He sits across from me, both of us in the center seats, "enjoying" a tasteless plate of plain pasta—the same exact meal as yesterday.

It doesn’t surprise me that vampires can’t even cook something simple, nor that they don’t bother offering us anything better.

With their overwhelming magic, they could prepare grand banquets, but I guess such luxuries are reserved for those in the upper dorms.

«Lyon, forget Aron and the others...» Gerard murmurs, noticing the tension in my face. «The daily torment we endure, the way we’re forced to fight like beasts... it brings out the worst in us. In a war among the weak, unable to rebel against the real oppressors, the most fragile and desperate familiars end up lashing out at anyone. Unfortunately, this time their frustration fell on you...»

This isn’t the first time I’ve been in a situation like this.

Back when I was captain and star of my hometown’s soccer team, every defeat landed entirely on me—even though there were eleven of us on the field.

Neither the coach nor the parents of my teammates took the blame.

It was always my fault for being "special", more talented than the rest—just like here.

But back then, I didn’t care.

’I want to see what they’ll do once I leave’ I kept telling myself.

I focused only on giving my best, ignoring their words.

So why can’t I do the same now?

Why do Aron’s words cut me so deeply?

«Mind if I sit here?»

A female voice behind me.

«Of course. As you can see, there’s no shortage of empty seats,» Gerard replies warmly.

I turn around and see her—the girl with blue eyes and long, straight brown hair—standing there with a gentle smile, holding her plate of pasta.

With Gerard’s approval, she takes the seat to my right.

She’s... beautiful.

A simple, natural beauty, untouched by makeup or cosmetics—things forbidden to familiars, even those of higher rank.

Ayra had explained it to me during training: no familiar is allowed to outshine a vampire’s looks.

And vampire women—or at least most of them—are incredibly vain.

Ayra is no exception.

Between her and Sasha, it’s practically a contest.

But this girl’s beauty is different—rare, unreachable, impossible to hide, even with the scars etched across her face, probably left by her master or some other vampire jealous of her looks.

And yet, her dazzling blue eyes still shine with quiet hope.

«We met just a few minutes ago, remember?» she asks. «My name is Kimberly Dulcar. And you... well, who doesn’t know you by now? Lyon Volkom, the legendary destined familiar.»

«If that’s what it means, I’d rather not be one...» I mutter darkly. «Dulcar...» I repeat.

«Yes, the same house as that stubborn Aron. My mistress, Countess Amelia Dulcar, and Aron’s master, Count Lucius Dulcar, are married—but also brother and sister,» she says, her voice dripping with disgust.

«Brother and sister?» I echo, just as horrified.

«In vampire society, marrying and procreating among blood relatives is common to preserve blood purity,» Gerard explains. «My mistress, Priscilla Volkom, is only thirteen, yet she’s already engaged to a blood cousin—at least that’s what I’ve gathered. It drives her mad, and she often vents her anger on me, which wouldn’t even be so bad... if that venting didn’t mean a generous dose of whipping...»

Marriages between relatives, arranged at that... it’s like stepping back into the Middle Ages.

«Aron doesn’t hate you, believe me,» Kimberly insists firmly. «If you’d endured the treatment the Dulcar family inflicts on their familiars, you wouldn’t judge him so harshly. As cruel as the Volkoms are, compared to the Dulcars they almost seem merciful.»

With a quick motion, Kimberly unbuttons the top of her tunic, opening it just enough to reveal the start of her chest—small but firm, highlighted by her slightly tanned skin.

For a moment, the sight distracts me from what she actually wants me to see.

A "D" carved into her flesh, identical to Aron’s.

«And this is nothing compared to the rest of my body...» she murmurs, her voice heavy with sorrow and resignation as she closes her tunic again. «That’s why I ask you not to hate him. Aron is a good guy, truly. I knew him long before we became the Dulcars’ familiars—he wasn’t like this. They turned him into what he is. Please, I beg you, forgive him...»

Her eyes glisten with tears she refuses to shed.

«I’m afraid that’s not up to me,» I reply coldly.

After all, he was the one who challenged me and turned the other familiars against me.

I can be patient, I can try to understand, but I have my limits—I can’t spend my time here being treated like trash.

«I’ll talk to him later, don’t worry. We share the same room; I’m sure I can make him listen,» she says with determination—a tone that, for some reason, gives me a flicker of hope.

Before I can answer, a shrill sound tears through the air, like a siren, echoing across the entire dorm—the signal to return to our rooms.