After entering the hidden bar, Willis sensed something unusual. Its interior decor was unlike anything he had seen before, exuding a splendor and mystery that belonged to the night. It was as though the designer had been a different species from humans; the difference in taste made Willis feel a little uncomfortable.
For a bar, its soundproofing was far too good. Not a peep could be heard from outside. When the Black man at the door opened it, Willis had sized up its thickness: solid metal, a full five centimeters thick, practically on the level of a bank vault.
But the lively atmosphere, the beautiful woman at his side, and the alcohol already taking effect in his body all made Willis unconsciously ignore the oddities around him.
When people gathered in groups, they became irrational. The noisy, frenzied music, the people swaying to its beat, and the girl holding his hand and making him dance against his will all stimulated Willis's senses and stirred his latent herd mentality.
After dancing for a while, without any illicit drugs to spur him on, Willis—sweating from head to toe—felt as though he had become a different person. It was as if he had shed his shackles and been reborn, his whole being elevated. He began to wonder if the old him had been wasting his life.
The blonde girl let go of Willis's hand and bounced over to the bar DJ. She took a microphone from him and began loudly announcing something to everyone on the dance floor. The DJ turned off the deafening music and switched to a relatively calmer tune.
Perhaps music really did have the power to manipulate people's minds. As soon as the tune changed, the crowd that had been dancing wildly fell silent, as though the competition had reached halftime. Only Willis kept moving for a while, carried along by his momentum, before finally stopping under everyone's gaze, looking as ridiculous as a clown.
The DJ booth was in the most conspicuous spot in the bar, where everyone could see the blonde girl. She pointed at Willis, who was so mortified he wanted to find a crack in the floor to hide in, and shouted, "He's the boyfriend I found tonight."
The spotlight fell on Willis at just the right moment. With his earlier frenzy gone and his usual personality returning, he looked a little shy. The people around him tactfully moved aside, leaving Willis plenty of room beneath the spotlight.
The blonde girl continued, "His name is Willis. He's twenty-three, has no bad habits, doesn't touch illicit drugs, doesn't smoke, and only drinks in moderation."
When she finished, the DJ played a short musical flourish, and the people on the dance floor cheered. Willis had no idea what was going on.
Once the excitement had died down, the blonde girl said, "Willis doesn't exercise much, so his circulation isn't great. But thanks to the alcohol, a moderate amount of activity, and the hormones released by his various emotional responses, his body is now in peak condition, and his blood tastes its best."
As soon as she finished speaking, everyone on the dance floor except Willis erupted into celebration. Their fervor filled Willis with inexplicable fear. It was as though they were savages performing some kind of ritual before a feast, and he was the pitiful sacrifice they had chosen.
In an instant, Willis thought of many things. His ex-girlfriend, who had dumped him, and the bad influence who had talked him into changing both had the same tattoo on their arms. He had seen that design on a wall outside this bar.
His coming here today had not been a coincidence. Someone had carefully planned it and lured him here step by step. Even his relationship with his ex-girlfriend and his friendship with that bad influence had been part of a conspiracy, a plan.
With a terrified scream, Willis stumbled toward the exit, but the crowd formed a wall and stopped him. His legs gave way, and he fell to the floor. His terror was so extreme that he had lost control of his body.
The handsome men and beautiful women who had been so excited now looked monstrous. Their pupils changed color, their fangs grew beyond their lips, and their faces were filled with greed and ravenous hunger.
An adult man had about four thousand milliliters of blood. There were so many vampires in this bar that even draining Willis dry ten times might not be enough to feed them all. A prized resource like him was something only high-ranking nobles could enjoy regularly; for low-level vampires like them, it was usually out of reach.
Even with help from humans in the Ha-gui tribe, finding someone like Willis took careful selection. They had set a trap and lured him all the way to this vampire bar. Forget getting their fill: one or two mouthfuls from a single vampire would be enough to savor the taste.
"Why? Why?" Willis wept bitterly. He could easily imagine what would happen to him next. "Can someone please save me?"
The blonde girl leaped down from her perch. It was high enough that even a professional stunt performer would have needed to roll to absorb the impact, but she merely bent her knees slightly and absorbed it. Even the heels of her high-heeled shoes remained intact.
Walking among the crowd, she pushed her way past her own kind and helped Willis, who was crying like a little girl, to his feet. She kindly wiped the tears from his face with a tissue that had appeared from who knew where, then softly comforted him as though soothing a child. "Don't worry. Don't be afraid... Fear will make your blood taste worse, and that would be a shame."
"You were chosen as food with great care. Any treatment that makes your blood taste worse would be sacrilege."
Hearing the blonde girl's words, Willis's legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed again. But she caught him in one arm, despite her seemingly delicate frame, as though a man weighing over a hundred jin were as light as a handbag that was more decorative than practical.
Then her eyes changed color and her fangs grew. She held Willis by the neck and drew him toward her mouth—as the one who had lured him here, she had earned the right to take the first bite.
But before her fangs could pierce Willis's skin, a huge shadow slammed into the dance floor. Several vampires were caught off guard and knocked to the ground along with it, suffering serious injuries—the kind that even a vampire's regenerative abilities would take a long time to heal.
The shadow was none other than the towering Black man who had been guarding the door. As a non-pureblood Blood Clan member transformed from a human, he was looked down on. But his imposing appearance had earned him a place among these Lesser Bloodline vampires, where he was stationed at the entrance to stop any unwelcome troublemakers.
Now this same man was dissolving rapidly, like a slug sprinkled with a whole heap of salt. He melted into a puddle of pus that quickly evaporated.
The one who had killed this non-pureblood Blood Clan member leisurely closed the bar's front door behind him. It looked like he meant to seal them inside and fight the vampires to the death.
Even the legendary Daywalker wouldn't dare claim he could escape unscathed when facing so many pureblood vampires.