The Maiden and Her Blood Meal

The bathroom was filled with moist Steam and the sweet scent of rose essential oil, and the lights cast warm halos in the mist.

Altair, wearing a light silk robe and barefoot, walked on the soft carpet and entered the bathroom with an extremely languid expression.

The maids beside her, with their eyes lowered, were preparing the bathing tools with gentle movements, making almost no noise to disturb her.

After Altair stopped, two maids came up behind her, one standing and one kneeling, and gently untied the ties of her nightgown with their fingertips. As the silk nightgown slid down, Altair's fair and delicate body was revealed.

As Altair half-closed her eyes and entered the Brass Bathtub, leaning over the edge, a maid began to gently wipe her back with a cotton cloth. Water droplets rolled down her snow-white skin, like pearls sliding across fresh snow.

Everything was so quiet, except for the sound of water and the rustling of fabric.

Until footsteps approached in the distance, accompanied by a sweet, fishy smell that entered my nostrils. This smell was not the fragrance of roses, nor essential oils, but rather the warm, life-giving scent flowing beneath my skin and deep within my veins.

At that moment, Altair's breath hitched slightly, and a familiar burning sensation rose in his throat.

Altair turned his head to look at the doorway and his gaze fell on Irene, who had just entered.

At this moment, Irene's expression was calm, almost elegant, as if the silver tray held not a glass of blood, but a glass of expensive wine.

Altair took the Crystal Cup from Irene and began to slowly taste and examine it. The blood in the Crystal Cup was as clear as a ruby, and when light passed through it, the glass walls reflected tiny red fragments of Red Light.

After finishing the taste, Altair looked like she wanted more, and then her gaze fell on Irene's bare neck.

The skin there was taut slightly with Irene's movements, and the bluish-green veins were faintly visible under the light.

"Count Altair?" Irene raised her head slightly after feeling her gaze.

Altair did not answer the maid Irene's question, but instead gently placed his fingertips on Irene's wrist.

When Altair's hand touched Irene, it didn't bring the maid warmth, but instead made her shiver coldly. However, Irene didn't resist his touch; in fact, she began to enjoy it.

Altair's fingertips slowly moved upwards, across his forearm, and stopped at the elbow, as if feeling the pulse beating beneath his skin.

"Irene," Altair's voice was soft, tinged with a hint of hoarse longing, "Is it alright?"

Irene's eyelashes trembled slightly, but she did not flinch or back down. Instead, she gently turned her head, exposing her neck more clearly to Altair, responding to him with a silent, even reverent, invitation. With her Irene's Altair curved into a very faint, almost imperceptible arc.

After sensing the maid's response, Altair no longer hesitated. He slowly leaned closer, opened his pale pink lips, and his four small tiger teeth slowly emerged, flashing coldly under the light. Then, he gently pierced Irene's neck.

"Um--

A suppressed sigh escaped from Irene's lips. But it wasn't a sound of Affliction.

Irene's body stiffened slightly at first, then quickly relaxed, even leaning back slightly to allow herself to open up to Altair in a more natural and exposed manner.

Altair wrapped his arms around Irene's waist and pulled her into the bathtub. The sound of her swallowing was particularly clear in the quiet bathroom.

As time passed, an unusual blush began to rise on Irene's face. Her eyes were half-closed, and her gaze was unfocused. Her breathing became rapid, her chest heaving violently, and the splashes of water landed on her collarbone before sliding down.

Irene's fingers unconsciously reached for Altair's wet blond hair, not as a rejection, but more as a yearning for a deeper connection.

"Ah---- Earl ----" Irene murmured intermittently, her voice sweet and cloying, like melting honey.

At this moment, Irene was savoring a Pleasure that was almost overwhelming, and her body was becoming softer and softer, almost completely leaning into Altair's embrace.

As Altair's fangs bit deeper, a sudden jolt ran through Irene's entire body.

She suddenly tilted her head back, drawing a graceful arc with her snow-white swan neck, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Altair also stopped eating at the right time. After reaching out, the maid standing beside her handed over a medicine bottle that had been prepared beforehand. After applying the medicine to the two tiny wounds on Irene's neck, they began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye.

After doing all this, Altair gently placed the unconscious Irene on the edge of the bathtub covered with a thick velvet blanket, covered her with a dry, soft Bath Towel, and then a maid lifted her down into the tub.

Before leaving, Altair noticed a lingering, satisfied smile on Irene's lips. It seemed to suggest that what she had just experienced wasn't predation, but rather some kind of divine grace and blessing.

Inside the misty bathhouse, the other maids standing around the tub watched everything in silence. From tasting blood to consuming Irene, they felt no fear or panic at Altair's actions.

After seeing Irene's serene expression, Altair applying a touch of crimson to her lips, a silent, burning desire, almost tangible, ignited in their eyes—envy, longing, the self-sacrificing urge of a religious fanatic.

After considering these things, they lowered their heads slightly, their posture becoming even more submissive, as if they were expecting and praying that they would be the next chosen one, that the favor would descend upon them.

After licking away the last trace of ink from her lips, Altair regained her previous languidness and slid back into the warm water, closing her eyes as if the earlier incident was nothing more than an insignificant event.

The reason Irene and the "abnormal" maid are in this state is not because Altair did anything to them; it's simply because they are like this.

These maids who "worship Altair as True God" are not original maids of the Sheffield Manor; they are all new maids that Vivian recently bought.

Thirteen days ago, on the night of Altair's birthday, Vivian gave them to Altair as a birthday gift, completing her Maid Corps.

As for why they have such abnormal thoughts, it's because these maids were implanted with these ideas before they were bought.

Their ideology was even more extreme than Irene's; they had an extremely fanatical faith in Altair, worshipping her as a god.