Seamus shivered, not just from the chill crawling through the garden, but from Dahlia herself.

She wasn't in the same league as Isolde, but she carried a different kind of terror, a slow-moving, honey-dipped madness that slipped right under the skin.

And gods help him, that danger was strangely intoxicating. Like any man that chases after adrenaline, Dahlia's existence was sweet because of it.

Her nipples dragged lightly down his back as she shifted, her bare skin brushing him like cold silk.

Her hands glided from his arms to his chest, fingers splaying as if she was marking territory. She hugged him from behind with the confidence of a predator that knew its prey wouldn't escape.

The night itself seemed to lean in. The fountain murmured behind them, water catching the moonlight like scattered silver.

She was a witch, a siren, a woman carved from temptation and death.

"Well, if you insist—"

"Good." Dahlia cut him off.

She grabbed his wrist with surprising strength and tugged him toward the stone bench by the fountain.

She sat close, her thigh pressed against his, damp from the fountain. "My third husband was a young knight. He was cute. Curly brown hair, enchanting blue eyes. But he was obsessed with taking my title."

Her sigh ghosted against his shoulder as she leaned in. "So he died in the middle of his hunt because of a boar."

She rested her head lightly on him, her hair sticking to his neck where the fountain spray had caught it.

Seamus blinked, his eyes narrowing. 'Aren't we going to have sex? Or… after this?'

The thought hovered as he watched her eyes. Those crimson irises weren't actually focused on him, they drifted past him as if she was watching old memories project themselves onto the garden walls.

"Then came my fourth husband." She moved closer, breath brushing his ear. "He already had a wife and daughter, but he left them behind. We loved each other. Truly. But then…"

Her voice softened. "He was stabbed by his ex-wife on our wedding day." Tears welled from her eyes.

He reacted without thinking, brushing her arm gently, trying to steady her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you remember something like that. You really loved him, huh?"

"Well… he was the only one who didn't die 'unnaturally.' So yes. I'm sad. Such a gentle man." She wiped her tears on his shirt, casually and unapologetically.

"What?"

Seamus blinked at her. Of all the deaths, that one definitely sounded unnatural.

"Anyway, five and six were boring."

She waved a hand lazily, her fingers trailing down his chest before settling in his lap.

"Died easily too. At least I collected enough inheritance to stay alive until my last husband."

She leaned back slightly, her expression shifting. Her smile sharpened. Her hands tightened into fists so softly that he almost didn't notice.

"He was the most disgusting man I've ever met. A marquis who adored little girls." Her voice lowered, turning cold enough to frost over the air between them.

"Even being touched by him made my skin crawl. So, to give those girls a happy ending, I burned down his estate."

The reflection of the flames she remembered flickered in her eyes. She looked at Seamus with a calm, satisfied cruelty that sent a thrill of dread and fascination down his spine.

"I locked him in the dungeon, the same one he used. Made sure he was there for the rest of his miserable life."

A breeze passed, stirring the garden as Seamus listened carefully.

"So after that…" Dahlia breathed in deeply, her smile stretching ear to ear, "I danced in front of the estate. Through the crowd. Then all the way to the town hall."

Her voice warmed with a disturbing nostalgia. "I haven't been able to recreate that euphoria since."

"I see…" Seamus said slowly. "That's why you keep researching humanity? But Dahlia, not every human is—"

She touched his lips with one finger, silencing him. Her skin was cool, but her eyes burned.

"Shhh. I know, Seamus. I've lived for hundreds of years. I've met all kinds of people."

Her smile widened, not sweet but serene, the smile of someone remembering agony like a beloved childhood memory.

"I was burned at the stake after that. People called me a witch. They said I sang and laughed while the flames ate me."

He swallowed. Her tone never wavered, never broke.

"Then? How did you become a vampire if you burned like that?"

"Oh, the rain came." She lifted her shoulders in an elegant shrug. "Not just rain. A lightning storm. Everyone ran like cowards, saying that 'I was cursed' or something."

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder again, fingers tracing absent circles on his thigh.

"Then Ulrich came when I almost died. An old man who wanted to give me eternity."

She chuckled softly. "He said, 'You're too beautiful to die.' I laughed while he bit me."

"And I never regretted it. I felt reborn."

The garden felt colder as she whispered the next part, her lips brushing the shell of his ear:

"So I visited each of them. One by one. And whispered—'You need to dance. Dance in the town hall until your sins are cleaned.'"

A shiver skittered across Seamus's spine.

"And they did," she murmured. "Many danced until they died. And the whole town turned to dust."

"So how is it, Seamus? Is it a good story for you?" Dahlia asked, her voice unusually soft.

He nodded, throat a little tight. "It… something humans can't truly fathom, for sure."

His stomach churned. Whatever lust he had felt earlier evaporated the moment those vivid images—her body burning, villagers dancing until their bones broke—lodged themselves in his mind. The details clung to him like smoke.

'Wait… am I being influenced by her power?'

The system chimed:

[Yes and no]

[Your Sagacitas is strong. Her influence can't twist your mind, only give you clear images of what she describes.]

'Damn. What the hell is actually her power?'

He looked back at Dahlia, her expression still bright, still disturbingly serene. "So… you want to have sex with me or not?" he asked bluntly, because there was no point dancing around it.

He liked hearing people's stories, sure. But this? This was something else entirely. Absurd, cruel, tragic… and somehow still laced with kindness at the root of it.

Besides, he had already decided, her power might be useful and also, he needed to level up as fast as possible.

Dahlia laughed, resting her cool hand on his cheek. "Oh? You really aren't influenced by my power at all? Interesting, Crimson Nectar. What an unusual human."

Her thumb brushed his skin. "Are you even human at this point?"

Before Seamus could reply, the bushes rustled sharply. Both turned as a tall figure stepped out, pale under the moonlight, Fleur.

"I heard you're finally home, sister," she said flatly. "And the first thing you did was dance in the fountain naked with a man. Impressive."

"Oh, Fleur," Dahlia sang. "Rough day? New wrinkles under your eyes?"

Fleur immediately touched her face. "You're lying! We're vampires, we don't get old!"

"Father is old," Dahlia countered effortlessly.

Fleur groaned. "He was already old when turned. Don't play with me! Go back to your room. Now."

Dahlia stood, leaning into her sister's space. "Why would I? So you can flirt with Seamus and steal his blood?"

She tilted her head sweetly. "Cruel, Fleur. Sisterhood means sticking together. Yet you want Seamus all for yourself."

"No! That's not—" Fleur bit her lip, visibly flustered.

Seamus watched them like a man observing a zoo exhibit.

He finally cut in. "Both of you can have my blood. Or sex. You don't even need sex for that, actually."

Fleur turned to him, exhaling in defeat. "I'm doing this for my father, I mean my master."

She looked uncomfortable admitting it. "And it's not like I dislike you. I just don't like weak people."

Her gaze softened slightly. "But after what happened at the vampire hunter HQ… I judged you too fast. I apologize." She bowed lightly.

"Oh my sister," Dahlia teased, "what do you want from Seamus so badly you're apologizing?"

"Tch." Fleur rubbed her face in frustration. "Some of your father's enemies are my enemy. If any vampires attack you, tell me. We share that threat." Her tone darkened.

Seamus nodded. An ally was always useful.

"Well then, I'll go." Fleur turned, but Dahlia called after her:

"Eh? You really don't want to have sex with Seamus?"

Seamus blinked. "Wait… you do want to?"

Dahlia shrugged. "I don't have anything to do, so why not?"

Fleur waved a hand dismissively and disappeared into the garden path.

Dahlia immediately slipped onto Seamus's arm again, pressing her body against his side, warm and soft and utterly shameless.

"You don't mind, right? I know the sex schedule exists, but I'm bored and horny." Her eyes dipped downward, almost pleading.

"Sure. Madeline isn't here today anyway," he said, ready to move, until Dahlia shook her head.

"Let's do it here." She turned her head toward the bushes. "We have an audience."

Aconite stepped out, her expression calm but intent. "Don't mind me. I just want to watch."

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