Chapter 342: The Inn Falls Silent

After a swift but extremely effective scene of persuasion, seduction, and subtle illusion, a silver-haired beauty in a red-and-black Victorian gothic dress made her entrance.

The inn's double doors creaked open as if in reverence.

She stepped in first, elegant, poised, and radiating a cold allure that sent a hush through the room. Conversations faltered. Forks hovered in midair. Eyes, both noble and common, turned toward her and failed to turn away.

Behind her came four maids, each beautiful in her own right. Blonde, brunette, raven-haired, and silver-blue. Each wore tailored maid uniforms, modest in cut but scandalous in silhouette—tight around the bust, with skirts that flared just above the knee and stockings that hinted at forbidden depths. Their eyes shimmered with unnatural focus. Silent. Graceful. Predatory.

Together, they moved like a dream intruding upon reality—flawless, practiced, and far too perfect to belong.

The innkeeper, a middle-aged woman with gray streaks in her brown hair, stood frozen behind the counter. Despite being a straight woman, she couldn't stop ogling the five beauties that just made her modest inn look more elegant.

"W-welcome, my Lady!" the innkeeper blurted as the gorgeous woman approached. She dipped a bow, her hands clammy as she set down the glass she'd been polishing.

"A room? Or perhaps the entire top floor?"

That was the protocol she was taught for nobility, and, judging from the quality of these ladies, they must certainly be that. If not, then why the hell does the world still spin and the sun is up?

If not, then why the hell was the world still spinning and the sun still up?

The silver-haired woman didn't immediately respond. She let the silence settle—let it weigh. Her gaze swept the inn, not looking for flaws, but letting the flaws notice her. The crooked paintings on the wall straightened of their own accord. A drunkard in the corner sobered in an instant. Somewhere upstairs, a child stopped crying.

"I'll be taking the top floor," she said at last, her voice low and polished, soaked in midnight charm. "I expect privacy. Quiet. And unquestioning service. I'll pay triple the usual rate."

The innkeeper's mouth opened, but no words came. She simply nodded so fast it looked painful.

"Understood, my Lady. Right away. I…I'll have the staff—"

"My maids will handle the arrangements," the silver-haired woman interrupted gently, but firmly, with a wave of her hand.

As if on cue, the blonde maid stepped forward and presented a heavy sack with the same fluid motion. It jingled softly. Gold—no doubt.

The innkeeper practically scrambled forward.

V didn't pay attention to the woman and instead she immediately walked with the blonde maid behind her upstairs, the other three, and with the help of the two drivers—former stable boys—hurried to assist them with the luggage, their eyes glazed with euphoric obedience. Thralls in all but name.

V's heeled steps echoed up the staircase—measured, deliberate, queenly. She didn't look back once.

The top floor of the inn had four rooms and a small private lounge. Cozy. Isolated. Perfect.

The blonde maid opened the door to the largest room and stepped aside like a ceremonial attendant. V entered without hesitation, eyes sweeping the space. Her heightened nose twitched slightly at the lingering scent of musk, pipe smoke, and dried lavender. A former guest, perhaps. Soon to be forgotten.

"This will do," V said, scanning the room, this time with blood magic, silently searching for any sign of traps hidden beneath the surface. Fortunately, she detected none.

"We'll begin cleansing the room, my Lady." The blonde maid bowed her head.

"Make sure it's perfect. Especially the bathroom," V spoke, taking a few steps in. "Oh, and be careful around the windows. Make sure to cover them, none of you is immune to sunlight."

"As you command, my Lady." With a nod, the maid moved swiftly, drawing a small vial from her apron—clear liquid swirling inside like captured moonlight. She uncorked it and, with a flick of her wrist, four small blue slimes plopped to the ground and began to eat the dust and crumbs scattered on the floor.

Clean slimes were considered the cheapest and most widely known types of magical beasts and could easily be tamed and used for various things.

V unfastened her gloves one finger at a time and set them on the polished vanity. She sat upon the cushioned chair, crossing her legs gracefully, and rested her hands in her lap. Her eyes closed for a brief moment, as if listening.

Below, the inn stirred—uneasy. Her presence was a stone in the still pond of the town's heartbeat. That was good. Let the ripples spread.

The brunette maid entered next, followed by the silver-blue and raven-haired ones. They moved in concert, setting down the polished luggage cases, unlocking them in silence. Silk-lined interiors unfolded to reveal an array of daggers, lock-picks, smoke bombs, scrolls, healing potions, poisons, and countless other items. All carefully sorted. All organized in a way only V knew.

As the maids worked in perfect synchronization, cleaning and setting up a protective barrier using scrolls and soundproofing enchantment, V opened her eyes and turned, facing the window, her thoughts focused on the mission.

An important mission was given to her by her new mother, Morgana.

Although V wanted nothing more than to finish her mother's orders as quickly as possible, from her past experience, she knew that rushing leads to carelessness and ultimately failure. The old her made that mistake a few times and paid the price in flesh.

'First, contact Mother, inform her of my arrival, and await further instructions,' she recited, the training lessons of a young assassin coming back with such familiarity it felt like it was yesterday.

As for contacting Morgana, V was hesitant to use the key and return to the temple. The reason? Simple—she didn't want to be in close distance from a horny, lust-filled pregnant kink woman that was in fact the goddess of breeding herself.

'I'm still too young to be impregnated by Mother,' she thought, her cheeks turning a bit rosy at the idea. 'Ugh, this is her effect on me. I never was interested in mother-daughter love, let alone carrying her child.'

V sighed, pushing the unsettling thoughts aside. She knew she had to focus on the task at hand. Contacting Morgana was inevitable, but she could delay it, buy herself some time to get the materials needed to perform a small ritual to contact Morgana remotely.

'Yup... this is safer,' V decided, standing up from her seat. 'Mother... will be displeased, but that will teach her a lesson, not to try breaking inside my mind and implant cravings for her... her c-cock and seed!'

V's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she recalled the unsettling encounters with Morgana, her "mother." The goddess's influence was strong, and V could feel the lingering effects of her presence, even from a distance. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, V's eyes spotted movement down in the street. She approached the window and slid open the curtains to look outside.

Two men in white and gold heavenly armor were dragging a third man in rags across the cobbled street. He was wounded, leaving a trail of blood behind, yet the look on his face was calm, accepting of the fact that he was probably going to die.

"This man is strange," V whispered, her vampire sense reacting to the wounded man. In fact, she reacted to all three of them, but the man in rags had the strongest aura. That's when V realized that he belonged to the same group as the other two.

The Holy Order of the Church.

V's ruby eyes flashed like pools of fresh blood as she let her vision switch from regular to enhanced, something all vampires could do, and it was one of the perks of being a creature of the night. Having better night vision and a higher sense of smell was good.

V watched the church knights, dragging and beating the poor man who didn't even struggle. From what V could tell, this man was stronger than the other two, and he was larger in build, but he was calm—almost a bit happy despite getting beaten and being dragged.

'Hmm? What's happening?'

V narrowed her eyes, observing the two church knights drag the wounded one across the main square where they tied him to an iron pillar. The iron clanged as manacles were locked around the captive's wrists, his arms raised just above his head. The knights worked with practiced efficiency—cold, silent, merciless. No ceremony, no crowd, no announcement. Just an execution disguised as a public humiliation.

But the man did not resist.

"A heretic, perhaps? Or a fallen knight?" V murmured, her voice soft but laced with interest. "No… too calm. Too composed. This is something else."

The Holy Order wouldn't treat one of their own like this unless he was something they feared.

"We've sealed the rooms, my Lady. Shall I begin?" The blonde elf maid appeared at her side, eyes briefly scanning the square before bowing slightly.

"No. Not yet." V raised a finger, pointing down at a dark alley close by where a man stood. "Go and have fun, but make sure he lives to see dawn."

The man was the same guard from before. He looked left and right nervously, hesitated to step inside the inn and claim his reward from the beauty of his life.

"Thank you, my Lady." The elf maid bowed again, her grin showing the fangs before she disappeared in the shadows with the other three, hunting.

"May the Night Mother guide your fangs to a tender throat and a silent scream."

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