"...Hanhyul," Velra murmured.
The woman’s breath hitched.
"So you do recognize it."
Velra glanced at her, almost puzzled by the tension in her voice. "Of course I do. It’s uncommon among humans, yes... but for us, it’s like a seasonal cold. Annoying. Nothing more."
The woman stared at her.
Cold?
Her hands trembled slightly. "Excuse me?"
Velra tilted her head. "Hanhyul disease is, at its core, a disorder of the blood vessels. The flow becomes obstructed. Pressure builds. The cold sensation you feel is stagnation. For a vampire, whose entire existence revolves around blood manipulation, it’s trivial."
Trivial.
The word struck harder than any insult.
For years she had endured the pain in silence—
the stabbing cold in her chest,
the weakness in her limbs,
the nights where breathing itself felt like inhaling shards of ice.
Doctors had called it incurable.
Priests had called it fate.
Some had whispered it was a curse.
And this demon—
This demon called it trivial.
Before she could respond, Velra stepped closer.
"Hold still."
"What—?"
Velra’s fingers shot forward, long nails pressing firmly into the woman’s forearm.
-Thud.
"Ugh?!"
"Stay still," Velra said sharply. "If you resist, the flow will destabilize further."
A sickening sensation followed.
It felt as though her blood had suddenly forgotten how to move properly—
as if it were surging in the wrong direction, colliding against her veins.
Pain scratched beneath her skin, sharp and invasive.
"Let—let me go!" she gasped.
The calm composure she always maintained shattered instantly.
All that remained was a young woman writhing under something she couldn’t see, couldn’t fight.
"I told you to stay still."
Velra’s voice had changed.
No mockery.
No arrogance.
Just focus.
The pressure traveled from her arm—
to her shoulder—
to her chest.
Her heart felt as though it were exploding in slow motion.
"Aah—!"
She screamed.
And then—
Silence.
Velra withdrew her hand.
The pain vanished.
Not dulled.
Not reduced.
Gone.
The freezing sensation that had plagued her for years melted away, replaced by warmth that spread gently through her limbs.
Her breathing steadied.
Her heart... beat evenly.
She stared at her own hands in disbelief.
"...Is it over?"
"It’s done," Velra replied calmly, wiping a faint trace of darkened energy from her fingertips. "I’ve removed the stagnant negative accumulation in your vessels. Your circulation will normalize gradually."
"Oh..."
The woman couldn’t move for a moment.
Not because of pain—
but because of shock.
The room felt different.
Lighter.
For the first time in years, she didn’t feel like she was standing on the edge of collapse.
She looked up slowly.
"You... cured it?"
"I corrected it," Velra said. "Curing implies permanence. You must still care for your body properly. Humans are fragile."
There it was again.
That detached tone.
Yet—
She had helped.
No price demanded.
No smug laughter.
No cruel bargain.
Just... action.
The woman swallowed.
"
She searched the demon’s face for deception—
but found none.
Just a strange, restrained pride.
"You could have told someone," Velra continued. "Humans study medicine obsessively. Surely someone would have attempted vascular purification."
"We tried," she said softly. "Priests. Healers. Even alchemists from the capital. Nothing worked."
Velra frowned slightly.
"They were treating symptoms, not cause. The obstruction wasn’t physical. It was residual energy lodged within your bloodstream."
"Residual... energy?"
Velra hesitated.
Then spoke more carefully.
"You were exposed to demonic mana at some point. Long ago. It lingered. Slowly corroded your circulation."
The woman froze.
A memory flickered—
A battlefield.
A carriage attack.
A surge of dark magic that had brushed past her when she was younger.
"...I see."
Her voice trembled—not from pain, but realization.
’How could I not have thought of it?’
She had always considered the disease something internal.
Something defective within her.
Not... something left behind by another.
She looked at Velra again.
"You said it’s common among demons?"
"Yes. Hanhyul appears when blood flow stagnates under corrupted mana pressure. Among vampires, it is resolved in minutes."
"...Minutes," she repeated faintly.
Velra studied her expression carefully, as if weighing something fragile.
"You resent that," she said at last.
The veiled woman shook her head slowly.
"No. I resent that I never once considered asking a demon."
The admission lingered between them, heavier than either expected.
Velra’s crimson eyes sharpened, searching for mockery, for hypocrisy—anything she could use as a shield.
"You trust me that easily?"
"I didn’t say I trust you."
A faint breeze stirred the edge of the woman’s veil.
"But I can’t deny what you just did."
Velra held her gaze.
There had been no deception in that act. No hidden claws. No manipulation.
Just action.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then footsteps approached from behind.
"Oh," Julies’ voice cut in gently, "you look pale. Perhaps I should take you back to your subordinate."
Before she could object, a cool handkerchief slipped past the thin veil covering her face and pressed lightly against her forehead.
The chill startled her.
She blinked—
And through the slight shift of fabric, she saw him properly.
Eyes dark as polished black jade.
Hair just as deep, almost swallowing the light around it.
There was something unnervingly calm about him. Not passive—no. Composed. As if he were always thinking two steps ahead.
"The district chief has such a mysterious aura about them."
Her subordinate used to say that constantly, usually with admiration and mild fear.
She had dismissed it at the time.
Now, staring at Julies through the thin veil—
She understood.
There was something about him that didn’t align with the role he claimed to occupy.
’I knew he wasn’t an ordinary servant...’
Her pulse steadied under the cool cloth.
’But my interest has grown.’
It wasn’t attraction.
It wasn’t suspicion.
It was instinct.
The same instinct that had kept her alive through political storms and silent assassinations.
That quiet whisper in the back of her mind—
There is value here.
There is danger here.
There is opportunity here.
Velra, standing slightly to the side, watched the exchange with narrowed eyes.
Julies’ touch was careful. Respectful. No lingering, no impropriety. Yet he didn’t hesitate either.
"You’re overexerting yourself," Julies said quietly. "Your breathing pattern changed."
The woman’s gaze flickered.
"You noticed?"
"You hide it well," he replied, lowering his voice. "But not perfectly."
Velra’s lips curved faintly.
"Sharp," she murmured. "You truly are."
Julies ignored her.
He shifted closer, supporting the veiled woman by the arm when her footing wavered.
The contact was steady. Reliable.
Not demanding.
Not possessive.
Just... there.
She found herself leaning into that support before she consciously allowed it.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
"I trust you will handle the task I entrusted to you," he said quietly. "Then, until next time. I will return."
Julies inclined his head slightly.
"I’ll be ready."
Her veil rustled as she turned—
But before she fully pulled away, Julies leaned closer, as if adjusting his grip to steady her.
His lips brushed near her ear.
His voice dropped to a whisper meant for her alone.
"Be careful who you trust," he murmured. "Even inside your own circle."
Her steps faltered.
Just slightly.
Velra caught it.
The woman did not turn around.
But her fingers tightened faintly over Julies’ sleeve.
"...You speak boldly for someone in your position."
"I prefer surviving," he answered softly.
A pause.
Then, almost imperceptibly—
She smiled beneath the veil.
"Good," she said. "So do I."
Julies released her gently as her attendants stepped forward to escort her away.