Reincarnated as the Vampire Princess' Familiar
Chapter 33 - 32 - See you soon, Lyon

Chapter 33: 32 - See you soon, Lyon

A sudden, blinding red flash rips through the darkness, yanking me out of sleep. A sharp, urgent voice follows—one I know all too well.

«Lyon, what in the world are you doing?!»

My eyes snap open—the dormitory room is dark, dimly lit by the pale glow of the Minus Moon. Just enough light to see that... what the hell is Ginevra Dulcar doing in my bed?! We’re lying on the narrow cot, facing each other, still dressed in the standard blue uniforms that familiars are forced to wear during the day.

Oh, right—now I remember! Last night at dinner, I had a long discussion with her about Vis energy, asking for advice on how to improve my control over it. She generously offered to give me some tips—after all, her ranking is nearly a thousand places higher than mine, so I had plenty to learn from her. Since the rule states that no more than two familiars can share a room, Gerard volunteered to swap beds with Ginevra so I could train with her as much as possible... and yes, by "train," I actually mean train, nothing indecent, I swear!

Strangely enough, Luke didn’t put up much of a fight over his roommate’s decision. He simply muttered in a calm, composed voice: «Try touching her even once, and I swear I’ll slit your throat.»

Most likely due to exhaustion from the late hour and, of course, the training itself—mostly basic energy manipulation exercises—Ginevra and I ended up collapsing onto my bed at the same time.

But now, that red flash and that voice echoed through the room, yanking me out of the world of dreams... there’s no doubt about it—it’s Ayra’s unmistakable voice! Strangely, Ginevra doesn’t seem to have noticed either the light or the outburst.

I spring out of bed in an instant, my vision nearly blurred by emotion. Ayra stands beside the bed, radiant as ever. She’s only been unconscious for two days, yet it feels like an eternity. Somehow, everything that happened yesterday—no matter how strange—has only strengthened my unwavering conviction: I don’t want any master but her.

«I’m really glad you’re okay, Ayra,» I murmur softly, careful not to wake Ginevra, a sincere smile forming on my lips.

«Did you have any doubts?» she replies, striking a confident pose with ben poca modesty. «I may be a princess, but I’m still a Valakys—the bloodline that has produced the greatest warriors in the history of the Mildelar kingdom. It’ll take far more than that to kill me.»

At those words—«It’ll take much more than that to bring me down»—my thoughts immediately drift to the trial looming ahead, the challenge that will decide her fate. My expression darkens at the mere thought, a shift that does not go unnoticed.

«This is not the place to talk about it,» Ayra states, cutting me off before I can even get a word out, as if my obvious melancholy and gestures had already told her exactly what I was about to say.

In the blink of an eye, we find ourselves once more on the shores of that lake so dear to her—the same one where Daphne often brought her after Karol’s death, the fifth daughter of Drakhul, slain by Vespera. A place that brings her peace and tranquility, emotions she needs now more than ever.

Side by side, we linger for an indefinite time, gazing at the calm, crystal-clear water where the small white moon reflects perfectly. A surreal silence surrounds us, broken only occasionally by the faint rustle of an insect or a small creature in the violet-hued woods encircling the clearing.

Every so often, I steal a glance at Ayra—her melancholic, almost fearful expression speaks volumes, making any question unnecessary. She seems frozen, motionless like a statue, her gaze locked onto that breathtaking landscape, as if trying to etch every detail into her memory.

«Lyon...» Ayra finally breaks the endless silence, her voice barely above a whisper. «I don’t remember anything after I lost control of my Innatus, but... according to what Daphne told me when I woke up, I was just a step away from killing you. Forgive me...»

My eyes widen. My breath catches, my heart pounding as if gripped by sudden tachycardia. A vampire apologizing to his own familiar for nearly killing him... In any other world, it might seem normal, but here, it’s pure fantasy.

Why?! Why her, of all people...? Mildelar is crawling with heartless bastards, vampires who deserve torments beyond even the flames of hell!

It’s not fair... It’s just not fair!

I clench my fists, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

«You are the best master a familiar could ever wish for...» I say, letting out a deep sigh to steady myself, trying to dispel the turmoil within. «I know it sounds absurd—would a slave ever thank their slaver for making them one?—but it’s the truth. I’m really glad I met you, Ayra.»

For the first time since we arrived, she shifts her gaze away from the water’s reflection and looks at me. First, a gentle smile—almost as if my words genuinely pleased her—then a clumsy pout, an attempt at feigned indignation.

«How dare you talk about me as if I were already dead?!» she snaps, though her tone comes off more awkward than threatening. «I just told you—I’m a Valakys! The same blood as the legendary King Lucypher flows through my veins! According to ancient scriptures, he was the strongest vampire of all time, capable of mastering his Innatus completely—in just a single day! And he possessed his very own Innatus Umbral, by the way! Your lack of faith in your master is a serious offense, you know? Once I complete my training with Clotilde and gain full control over the Shadowshaper Form, I will punish you severely!»

I answer with a faint smile—her clumsy attempt at authority is enough to momentarily chase away my gloom.

«When does training start?»

«It was supposed to start a few hours ago, but Clotilde allowed me to spend some time with my familiar. Speaking of which... that brute’s training is seriously tough, you know? To endure it, I’ll need a good dose of blood,» Ayra says, slightly parting her lips, revealing the glint of her sharp fangs.

I slowly remove the top part of my tunic, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The fear of the bite’s pain, still as sharp as the first time. The curiosity to see if, with Vis energy, I can dull the burning sensation. But above all—the sorrow that this might be the last time I offer her my blood.

I lay down on the soft grass by the lake’s shore, the delicate blades tickling my back. Ayra follows, positioning herself above me, completely bare—her fangs poised, ready to sink into my flesh.

With slightly sharper reflexes than before, I take a deep breath, going through the familiar sequence of controlled inhales and exhales. As Ayra’s fangs sink into my skin, I manage to coat the small area with my energy. I had hoped for a perfect result—a thin, controlled veil, like the ones used by more experienced familiars—but I’m still far from that level. Even so, it seems to work. The bite still burns, but it’s far more bearable than before—enough that I can... focus beyond the pain.

In this moment, the searing pain fades into the background, replaced by the sensation of her body against mine. Every inch of my skin presses against hers, our bare forms so close they almost meld together—grazed by the whisper of a cool breeze. The blood trickles from my neck, a faint tickle as it trails down between us, pooling where our chests remain tightly pressed together.

Probably—no, definitely—under any other circumstances, this moment would have set my raging adolescent hormones on fire. Not that it isn’t affecting me now, but... it’s strange. Normally, I’d be counting the seconds until her macabre feast was over, yet right now, I don’t want this to end. I don’t want her to pull away, even if it means letting her drain every last drop of my blood. But inevitably, that moment comes...

She lifts her chest slightly, licking her lips clean of the lingering traces of my blood. She’s about to rise, but... my arms move on their own, driven by an instinct beyond my control. I reach for her, pulling her back toward me, restoring our previous closeness—her head now resting against my shoulder, our cheeks pressed together. Our cheeks... damp with tears. My tears.

«L-Lyon... what are you doing...?» she murmurs, her voice unsteady, while my arms tighten around her with all the strength I have.

I... I’m not like this. I’ve never been like this. I’ve always been the exact opposite of sentimental—so much so that my last girlfriend used to complain every time we finished a tearjerker: "How can you not feel anything? You really are heartless." Maybe that’s why she left me... But in the end, they were just movies. Why would I cry over something that isn’t real? That’s what I always told her. I don’t think I’ve ever shed a tear in my life, not even on the day I died... so why? Why can’t I stop crying now?

«I don’t want...» I murmur, my voice tight with emotion. «I don’t want you to go! You’re the princess of this kingdom—there has to be something you can do to stop all of this!» I exclaim, my words breaking under the weight of a rage and desperation I’ve never felt before.

A deep shiver runs through me as her hand gently comes to rest on my head, her fingers threading through my blond hair, ruffling it with unexpected tenderness.

«Why don’t you trust me...?» she asks—not with the clumsy, forced anger from before, but with genuine sadness. «You’re my precious familiar! And besides... I won’t let some opportunist lay their hands on you and steal the results of all my hard work in making you stronger. I promise you, and a Valakys always keeps their word!»

A faint smile tugs at my lips at her words. To be honest, my small progress is thanks to everyone but her... She’s still far from being a good trainer, just like I am from being a powerful familiar. But that’s exactly what makes this special—growing together, improving in our own ways. I don’t want to lose that...

Then, she lifts herself slightly, bringing our faces inches apart.

«Lyon, close your eyes,» she whispers, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush that stands out even more against her pale skin.

I obey, and... SMACK!

Her lips press softly against mine, a fleeting touch, yet the sound lingers in my ears like an indescribably beautiful melody. My heart races like an engine pushed to its limit, my breath stolen away, my entire body frozen in place. Time itself ceases to exist. A second, a minute, an hour? I have no idea. All I know is that we are locked in this embrace, and nothing else matters.

When her lips part from mine, it takes me much longer than an instant to process what just happened. The sweet yet bitter taste of a farewell kiss is the only sensation my mind can register, and it only worsens my already fragile emotions.

«In your world, a kiss is a common sign of affection, but in ours, it carries a very different meaning. It’s a commitment, a vow that one is willing to do anything to uphold,» Ayra explains, her mesmerizing strawberry-colored eyes locked onto mine, a nearly serene smile gracing her lips.

The tranquility of the moment is abruptly shattered by a deafening noise, like the roar of an approaching storm.

At a certain distance from us, Clotilde stands with her arms crossed, her stern gaze locked onto Ayra, who is still lying on top of me.

«The time allotted for you to be with your familiar is over, sister,» Clotilde declares, her voice cold and unwavering.

Ayra doesn’t need to be told twice. She rises to her feet and swiftly dresses, gathering her scattered clothes from the grass with practiced ease.

Finally, one last exchange of looks—a gaze laden with hope—as Ayra turns and walks toward her sister.

«See you soon, Lyon.»

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