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Six years ago, in order to marry a purebred vampire named Mia, Tom regarded me as a lowly servant.

“Low-born human.” At that time, that's how he called me. The word left his lips, sounded coldly and contemptuously.

Six years had passed, and he was still so arrogant.

When he noticed me, his head was held high, as if he had smelled something completely unbearable. He didn't even want to look at me directly, as if a glance at me would dirty his eyes.

I found it funny for him to treat me like a mortal enemy or the poor person who prayed for his help. He saw me as a stain on his life, believing that if I encounter him, I would definitely use all means to plead for his love or protection.

Yet he didn't know that I have become an existence that he completely cannot understand or interact with.

He moved through the lobby, Mia a graceful shadow at his side. Vampires stirred—a current of predatory admiration. They recognized the Lord who had resurrected a dying bloodline.

“Lord Tom! To think we’d witness the rise of a new Major House in our lifetime.”

“You seek audience with the King himself, don't you?”

Tom inclined his head, a study in controlled power. Eyes drifted to Mia. “And your destined Consort? A union to forge a new era.”

Mia leaned into him, her smile a perfect, placid curve. “Our final blood-bond awaits the official ascension of our House. We wish our eternal vow to crown our triumph.”

A muscle twitched in Tom’s jaw. “A trifling delay,” he said, too smoothly. “Our hearts have been pledged for centuries.”

I watched, intrigued. No blood bond?

He had sacrificed our relationship for the power her pure lineage promised. Because this bond was related to the soul power of vampires, and a stable bond could greatly enhance their overall strength. Yet without that bond, a vampire’s strength remained unanchored, volatile. What held him back?

“You.” A fledgling guard, his aura thin and sharp, loomed over the fountain’s edge. “This is consecrated ground. Your, a lower human, does not belong here.”

His lip curled. I’d spent the afternoon on the beach with my son, and my clothes were stained with salt and sand. Standing in the fountain now, my own royal scent was masked and my appearance that of a human caught in the rain.

“My son lost a treasure in the water. I will leave once it is found. If there’s a fee for the disturbance—”

“Treasure?” He sneered. “You reek of mortality. Leave now, or I may remember how long it has been since I fed.”

Whispers unfurled through the crowd. A human… blasphemy the sacred place… how did she even enter?

Tom’s attention snapped toward the disturbance. His gaze met mine, and for a second, he was utterly still. “Rowling?”

The guard glanced between us. “You know this person, my Lord?”

Tom’s eyes frosted over. “A human my house once kept as a pet. No one of consequence.” He turned away, a clear dismissal.

Empowered, the guard seized my arm. “You think some expired favor grants you rights here?”

I shifted, breaking his hold with ease. “I have said I will pay for any inconvenience.”

"Pay for it?" The guard laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "This fountain is a moonstone masterpiece by a Sanguine Artisan. A blood-bag like you couldn't afford the water in it!"

He released a wave of vampiric pressure—a force meant to cripple human will. To me, it was nothing more than a distant hum.

“That’s enough.” Tom’s voice cut through the lobby.

He had returned, his expression carved from ice. “What did you lose? Name its worth. I will compensate you,” he hissed, low and venomous. “Then you will leave. This spectacle does not move me.”

Mia’s fingers tightened on his arm, her eyes bright with cold triumph. “Rowling, we are to be bound for eternity. Know your place. There is dignity in accepting the natural order.”

I gave her a small, genuine smile. “I wish you every happiness, Mia.”

I resumed my search. The tourmaline was here. I could feel it.

“Is it money you want? Status? Protectin?” Tom produced a sleek digital ledger. “Take this. Build a life. Find a mortal who is really suitable for you.”

He reached for my wrist, perhaps to impose a temporary mark. Then he froze, his screen glowing eerily against his pallor.

“Your record… it’s empty.” His voice dropped to a disbelieving whisper. “No master. No active sigil. You are unclaimed. You are like a walking prey.”

Yes, my record was blank. But he overlooked a possibility. He thought my record was blank because I was unclaimed. But actually, it was blank because it was high-level security encryption.

I had been redacted by the High Council. When a higher being decided forever put me under his protection, he didn't just give me a mark. He also erased my mortal existence from the public database to protect me from his political enemies.

That’s why Tom saw my record was blank. He didn't have the right to check my record.