WHISTLING MYSTIQUE

02

Even though I hadn't entered completely, the familiar and usual spit of words inside the brothel were enough to reach my ears.

Usually, I would forcefully infiltrate and break a thing at any place to enunciate my entrance but I can't afford to stain my new coat with dirty blood from these ugly vampires.

I shut the door close behind me, and when I finally entered and saw the condition of the place, my instinct to impulsively attack almost awakened. The place is full of bottles of liquors, messy floor covered with blood, and clothes that were torn apart.

Damn. I will not survive in here without pulling a violent tantrum.

The place looks like shit!

This building might look ordinary outside but when you're a regular customer here, you would think that this place certainly has to be a secret against the royal guards who frequently wander around the town disguised as a normal citizen.

I have known that this place, Ecstacià, is famous for prostitution. But I have never thought that this place would be this worst. This doesn't look like a decent place. This is just plain disgusting. Or maybe because of them.

There were faces I recognized who are also working under the Marquis. Some of them have women sitting on their laps, some are doing filthy vampire things on the sofa—devouring women's neck and sucking the blood out like a tasty animal.

The women were clothed with very little garments. Their breast were exposed and despite the eye masks embroidered with spider's web, the seductive color on their lips were enough to send electrifying lust to these maniacs.

I bet these women aren't one of us. These assholes can't be satisfied with their own kind so they hired another bunch of humans to entertain themselves until they get tired.

It's annoying to listen at their voices that I wish to eradicate.

If it's not for my plan, I wouldn't go here to just witness these scoundrels doing nasty stuffs—Victimizing humans for their insuperable libido. Just what kind of person is the Marquis to cover their pile of dirt. How disappointing.

"Ahh."

"Who do you belong to?"

"T-to you..."

My eyebrows creased as I hear them saying such cringy words. Wtf. To you? Ha! This isn't, woman. This idiot just want to bed you so get the hell out of here before I beat gravity and flip this place upside down. Literally.

I had the chance to observe them for about a minute as they were all intoxicated. None of them noticed my presence even when I leaned at the railing of the second floor while keeping an eye at each one of them.

They continued to laugh without even noticing me here who's watching their every move like a king. They looked like shit.

"Oh." Suddenly, my eyes caught someone familiar. He's leaning his back at the corner sofa with a glass of blood on his right hand.

"Leave now," he dismissed all the women like he didn't just used them for their entertainment.

Marceline.

Marceline isn't one of Marquis Ruger's dog. Marceline is the right hand of the current emperor of Rivalde kingdom. He's a hybrid with no last name because he did not become a part of any clans in Silas, a kingdom at the north.

He was casted out in Silas to atone for his father's sin of being with a human. And here he is, enjoying the freedom bestowed to him by the late emperor.

"Lucien Constantine." My eyebrow lifted when I heard my name.

My eyes left Marceline for a moment to look for whoever snake-like animal who uttered my name.