Reincarnated as the Vampire Princess' Familiar
Chapter 66 - 20 - Distorted truths

Chapter 66: 20 - Distorted truths

«I didn’t think you’d actually stay up waiting for me, little sister,» Daphne murmurs after teleporting into Ayra’s bedroom.

«I-I can’t sleep, that’s all... These days, even closing my eyes at night feels almost impossible—you can imagine why...» Ayra replies, lying on her bed in a fetal position, arms and legs wrapped tightly around a large pillow soaked with tears.

«H-How did the training with Lyon go...?» Ayra continues in a soft, trembling voice, as if she’s afraid to hear the answer.

Daphne doesn’t answer right away. She slowly walks over to Ayra’s bed, sits beside her, and gently strokes her head—a comforting gesture that only deepens Ayra’s sadness and brings more tears.

«Lyon...» Daphne closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. «...kissed me...»

«H-He kissed you...?» Ayra repeats, incredulous and sobbing.

«Yeah... and that’s not all... he pinned me to the ground and tore my clothes off... his tongue slid down from my mouth to my neck, then reached my breast—he grabbed it tightly with one hand, while the other slipped into my panties, rough and forceful. I was so scared—frozen in shock—that I couldn’t fight back, at least not at first... Luckily, I managed to regain control of my body and push him away... It was awful, I’m still trembling from fear...» Daphne’s voice is tense and shaky, clearly on the verge of tears.

Ayra’s eyes widen in disbelief—tears stream down her cheeks, falling onto the bedsheet. «I... No, I can’t believe my Lyon would do something so horrible... and to my beloved sister, no less... But he’s never disrespected me—not even once. If anything, he always seemed flustered and shy whenever I showed myself naked in front of him. How could he change so much...?»

«I don’t know, little sister... I really don’t. Maybe it’s just repressed desire—humans are so fickle when it comes to these things. See for yourself...»

At that moment, a photograph materializes in Daphne’s hands. She places it on the bed, right in front of Ayra’s eyes.

At the sight, Ayra lets out a heart-wrenching scream of rage and pain—a cry that bursts from her lips before she can stop it. Her trembling hand clutches her chest, as if trying to keep the pieces of something shattering inside from falling apart. Her breath catches, seized by an invisible vice.

The photo shows Lyon lying on top of Daphne, who’s half-naked, her upper clothes torn away, sprawled on terrain that’s part rocky, part grassy, under the night sky. One of Lyon’s hands is clearly near Daphne’s breast—her fingers wrapped around his wrist as if trying to push him away—while his other hand is buried deep between her thighs.

It’s not just an ordinary photo—those can be easily faked even without magic—but a special image captured using a specific spell: Viderem. It’s one of the rare BloodWords that isn’t meant for combat but can imprint a moment onto a unique film created by Sanguis magic. The result looks like a real photo, printed on a red membrane that can’t be altered in any way. That’s why it’s such a crucial BloodWord, mostly used in Mildelar’s legal system.

Daphne makes the photo vanish, then lies down on Ayra’s bed—right next to her—wrapping her arms around her little sister from behind, just below the chest. «If I reported what happened to our father—that a familiar tried to force himself on a princess—Lyon would be executed on the spot. Even my dear Kajetan wouldn’t hesitate for a second to avenge his mistress’s wounded honor. And yet, despite the fear and shame I felt... I still can’t bring myself to hate him. This just proves what I told you last time—you neglected him so much that he ended up in another woman’s arms just because she gave him the bare minimum of attention and care he was longing for. Because of your inexperience and your shallow attitude as a mistress, your big sister almost became a victim of that boy’s violence. I hope you finally understand how serious this is...»

Ayra stays silent and completely still—when she breathes, she does it as quietly as possible, trying to hide even the slight movement of her chest, as if pretending to be dead, crushed by the guilt Daphne’s words awakened inside her.

«Anyway, it looks like, fortunately, separating him from you emotionally will be much quicker and less painful than we expected. I didn’t even mention that you won’t be his mistress much longer, and yet... before he touched me, he said it’d be a dream to have me as his mistress. The joy in his eyes was so genuine I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that my heart belongs only to Kajetan—and even though, sadly, soon enough I truly will become his. Although...»

Ayra can feel Daphne’s tears soaking her cheeks—their faces are pressed together, with Daphne’s head resting on her sister’s shoulder. «...After what happened tonight, I’m not so sure I can keep helping you. I’ve been doing all this just to make your separation easier, and I’ve done it from the heart, because I love you—Ayra—and because I believed Lyon was a good boy. But now... I’m not so sure anymore. You know I’m not strong in combat, and if he becomes stronger than me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect myself if he tries to hurt me again. That’s a risk I simply can’t take...»

Ayra’s arms tighten around Daphne, hugging her firmly. «D-Don’t say that, big sister... I’m sure it was just a moment of weakness for Lyon, maybe... maybe it was a reaction to the pain caused by how I pushed him away. If he’s suffering even a tenth of what I’m going through, then this must be just as hard for him... I’m not trying to excuse him—what he did to you was unforgivable—but please, give him another chance...! I’ll talk to him myself if I have to, but don’t abandon him like I did, I beg you... There’s no better vampire in all of Mildelar who can care for my Lyon...»

«Your Lyon...» Daphne repeats, her voice laced with disapproval—almost irritation. «He’s not your Lyon anymore. The sooner you accept that, the better it’ll be for both of you!»

After saying that, Daphne releases her arms from around Ayra’s chest and stands up. «You don’t need to talk to him—I already told you, the two of you shouldn’t speak about anything outside the Blood Game. You’d only risk ruining all the effort I’m putting in to make your separation as painless as possible. I’ll be the one to mediate between you two—since I’m not emotionally involved, I can handle things with a clear mind. I’m saying this for your sake, to avoid more suffering for both you and Lyon: keep your distance, just like you’re doing now, and focus on your future—as the next commander of the Scarlet Army, and as the future wife of Edgard Narkov. That’s the path our father and the Council of the Ten Elders chose for you! A life of glory and power is waiting, and I won’t let you throw it away over some foolish, one-sided love!»

«I-I don’t care... I don’t care about any of that if it means living without Lyon! But... you’re right. I’ve been too selfish, and in the end, I hurt Lyon. I don’t want to disappoint our father too...» Ayra sobs, her voice steady as she wipes her tears on the pillow.

«This is the right choice, little sister. I’m glad to hear you talk like this—like a true princess who cares about her kingdom. The pain will fade, don’t worry. And remember, I’m here for you. I’ll never leave you alone.»

«Thank you, sister... thank you for existing.»

■□■□■□■

«Ugh... that damn Lyon...!» Levreshka mutters, still busy sewing up the belly of the hybrid doll Gorilionbear inside the enormous dollhouse. «Yes, yes, I know you’re in a lot of pain, but don’t worry! Soon you’ll be good as new—no, even stronger than before, thanks to the upgrades I’m working on. And you’ll finally get your revenge!»

Despite those harsh words, a big smile is fixed on Levreshka’s face—a smile full of affection and care, one she shows only to her beloved plushies.

«Yes, I think you’re right, Doctor Elepand. If I sew him up like this, the stitches might come undone at the first hit. So let’s try it this way instead...» the girl murmurs, speaking to a stuffed toy beside her—an odd creature with the body of an elephant, the head of a panda, two doll arms stitched over its eyes, and a tiny doctor’s lab coat.

—FLASH! A red flash lights up the dim interior of that enormous room filled with toys.

«What do you want?» Levreshka asks with an irritated tone, not even lifting her eyes from her patient.

No reply.

But when she finally looks up, the irritation in her widened eyes turns into sheer terror. Her body starts trembling, and her teeth chatter like castanets. The needle and thread slip from her hands—frozen at the sight of a figure with long silver hair, wrapped in a red cloak, standing menacingly at the center of the room with a sword in hand.