Qadir stepped into the small, stone-walled space that served as his own shower. The steam from the hot already running water hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint scent of soap and lavender. Being a bloodslave did have its perks, after all. He stripped off his clothes, tossing them onto a wooden bench before stepping under the cascading water of the shower. The warm spray felt soothing against his skin, a rare moment of comfort in an otherwise harsh existence. There were only few times where he could say he enjoyed hot water to wash.

As the water poured over him, Qadir let his thoughts drift back. He hadn't seen Silia in three days. It didn't bother him much—not outwardly, at least. She was erratic, unpredictable, prone to disappearing when it suited her, not that she'll go that far. If she was avoiding him, it was nothing new. Still, there was an underlying sense of unease gnawing at him, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch. Three days without her distant presence looming over him.

Not that he missed her, of course. She was a nuisance, a vampire with more emotional baggage than he had time for. Yet, as the hours turned into days, he found himself wondering why she hadn't shown up.

His few interactions with the girl were... opposed. When they first met, she was unbelievably gentle but then, she threw a dagger at him. After that, it was mostly her complaining whenever she met him in her room. Maybe she was ashamed of what he had seen happen with Asen.

He found solace in these moments of solitude. The simple act of showering was a reminder of the short freedoms he still possessed. There were only few times where he could've said he enjoyed hot water to wash. It was a daily ritual that offered a brief escape from the oppressive atmosphere of the manor, a chance to gather his thoughts and prepare himself for whatever lay ahead.

Qadir ran his hands through his damp hair, feeling the water mix with the soap and rinse away the grime for the start of the day. His reflection in the metal mirror on the wall was blurry and indistinct through the steam, but he knew it was there—an ever-present reminder of the person he had become. His eyes, sharp and calculating, were a stark contrast to the gentle warmth of the water. They never changed.

Something else was on his mind though, whether the girl was here or not, he had too much liberty. Even the others slaves hardly came to him. But he understood it was for the same reason everyone seemed to held something against Silia, whatever she had done.

At first, even his imposing physique didn't hold back the others humans to try and push him around. They all apparently felt comfortable to do so because no one seemed to respect his Master. Even fucking slaves. But after a few broken bones, they understood it'd be better to not interact with Qadir, instead of bullying him as well.

He had met other vampires too, though he wasn't sure in what way they were related to her. They all scrunched their nose or rolled their eyes when crossing path with him.

Pacing restlessly in his quarters, Qadir forced himself to think logically. Silia's absence shouldn't derail his plans. He had to keep moving forward. Silia was just a stepping stone, a way to get closer to the heart of vampire society. And right now, he needed information.

With a final sigh, Qadir turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. The steam swirled around him, creating an ethereal, almost otherworldly ambiance. He grabbed a rough towel from a nearby rack and began drying himself off.

As he dressed and prepared to leave the room, Qadir casted one last glance at his reflection. His current reality might have been a far cry from his former life, but he had adapted. Patience was still hard on him, but he'll manage.

Despite his circumstances, he found himself driven by a relentless determination. He had survived the worst of what the vampire world could throw at him, and he was not about to falter now.

With that thought in mind, he stepped out into the manor's hallways, his eyes scanning the dimly lit corridors. The estate felt busier than usual, the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air.

As he wandered, trying to make sense of the silence, Qadir caught a snippet of conversation from a nearby room, usually occupied by vampires only. He slowed his pace, moving closer to the slightly ajar door to listen.

"Ugh, look at this mess," Olivia's voice echoed from inside. "They don't care how hard it is to scrub this off, I swear."

Another voice, quieter and younger, answered, "I heard it wasn't just a feast this time. They had some kind of... accident. Blood everywhere."

"Accident," Olivia scoffed. "More like a punishment. You know how they get when someone displeases them. Anyway, I'm not surprised. They've been on edge ever since that Kadijan letter arrived."

"Kadijan letter?" the younger servant echoed; her tone curious. "Didn't you hear? It's about the ball from their House that takes place in a month. Apparently, the castle will be empty for it. All the nobles are invited."

Qadir's interest piqued at the mention of the ball. He remained still, absorbing every word. A gathering of the vampire elite, huh? He couldn't have asked for better.

The younger servant hesitated before asking, "They're all going?"

Olivia smirked, her tone dripping with disdain. "I have a theory for Lady Silia." The girl sat closer, explaining in an excited whisper. "Her family will force her to attend. They'll expect her to bring Qadir, too. Bloodslaves are supposed to be at these events. It's tradition."

At the mention of his name, Qadir's lips curled into a faint smile. And Silia would be expected to bring him along. This was good—this was what he needed. An opportunity to see the vampire nobility up close, to observe their dynamics and weaknesses. His pulse quickened at the thought, though he kept his expression neutral.

"Do you think she wants to go?" the younger maid asked.

Olivia snorted. "Her? She's probably dreading it. That nutcase's been sulking for years, I hardly remember the last time I heard she left this house. But her family won't give her a choice, Leandra told me sometimes, other nobles ask of her. And for Qadir... well, I suppose he'll do what he's told, probably."

Qadir stepped away from the door, satisfied with what he had overheard. It was surprising how even slaves were aware of Silia's conflict within her family. Not that any of them tried to make it look less obvious.

Either way, what mattered was the ball and what it represented. He would be there, standing among the vampire elite, blending in as just another bloodslave. And while they ignored him, he would have plenty of time to learn who held the real power nowadays.

Continuing down the hall, Qadir nearly bumped into Anghel, one of the quieter servants who kept mostly to himself. Anghel glanced at Qadir with mild curiosity, his expression a mix of amusement and caution.

"Qadir," Anghel greeted him with a nod. "You seem... preoccupied."

Qadir kept his tone casual. "Just thinking."

"About?" Anghel prompted; his brow raised.

"That ball everyone seems to talk about," Qadir replied simply, avoiding too much detail. "I suppose it's going to be quite the gathering."

Anghel chuckled softly, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. "You're looking forward to it? That's... bold."

Qadir shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. "It's an opportunity. I like to make the most of those when they come."

Anghel regarded him for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. "You're a strange one, Qadir. Most of us would rather avoid those gatherings. Too much risk, not enough reward."

"Perhaps," Qadir said smoothly, "but nothing worth gaining comes without a little risk." Anghel shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew that man was crazy ever since he heard about him.

He didn't press further, offering Qadir a final nod before continuing on his way, leaving Qadir alone in the hallway once again.

As Qadir watched him go, his mind returned once more to Silia. Her absence still lingered in the back of his thoughts, though he pushed it aside. She was a tool, nothing more. But tools had to be maintained, used at the right time.

He made his way back inside, heading toward the kitchen quarters. The place was bustling with activity, as it always was. Servants moved back and forth, carrying trays of food, scrubbing pots, and preparing for the next meal. Theirs or the vampire one, he wouldn't know.

Qadir slipped in unnoticed, grabbing a few pieces of fruit and bread from a nearby table. It was a habit he had developed—stocking up on food when he could, just in case. Also, he wouldn't say he dreaded eating among fellow humans, but clearly, the man had a preference for eating alone. In his room. By himself.

With his small stash secured, Qadir returned to his quarters. As he opened the door, he was met with the petite figure he was supposed to serve.

"Silia."