The Princess’s Peculiar Predicament

To understand what transpired, one must begin with this very morning.

“Mistress, are you truly heading out so early today?”

“Indeed. Though, why are you looking at me with such an expression?”

“No, it’s nothing at all. I’m merely a little surprised.”

In Levian’s estimation, the Blood Princess was the sort who would slumber until the world crumbled if not roused from bed. For her to be up, dressed, and ready to depart so early was as rare as a blue moon.

Yet, a thought struck her.

Levian suddenly realized this was an opportune moment to put Seraphina’s lessons into practice.

“Um, that is, Lady Iqiyah…”

“Hmm?” Iqiyah raised a brow, quite taken aback by Levian’s sudden address. “What is it?”

“Well, um…” Now that the moment was upon her, Levian found herself utterly devoid of any plausible excuse to draw closer to Iqiyah. With no other choice, she hastily concocted a flimsy reason.

“Your hair seems a little disheveled. Might I have the honor of tidying it for you?”

“…That’s impossible.” Hearing Levian’s claim, Iqiyah looked rather perplexed. “I specifically tied my hair up today to avoid any fuss. How could it possibly have become disheveled so quickly?”

She reached up, touching her braided hair. “See? It’s perfectly neat.”

“…Yes, Lady Iqiyah.”

‘What’s gotten into her today?’ Iqiyah mused, watching Levian mumble to herself. “Never mind. It’s not worth dwelling on.” Unable to make sense of it, she gave her head a vigorous shake, as if to dislodge the lingering confusion.

“I’m off, Levian. Remember to give Seraphina her soup.”

“Understood…”

****

With Seraphina absent, Iqiyah’s patrols took on a distinctly crueler edge.

Perhaps due to a sudden alteration in her patrol schedule, Iqiyah was astonished to discover far more human adventurers than usual traversing her regular route.

“You lot, don’t just go casually wandering through someone else’s home!”

In one particular corridor, Iqiyah effortlessly shrugged off the swords hacking at her, seizing the unfortunate warrior by his head. She then lifted his thrashing form, slowly ascending into the air.

“Gah! It’s a powerful one! Everyone, retreat now!”

Without a moment’s regret for their comrade’s capture, the warrior’s teammates decisively cast aside their weapons and gear, bolting into the distance.

Iqiyah couldn’t help but let out a disdainful scoff, watching the humans abandon their comrade and flee in terror.

“Well, Warrior-boy, your teammates have all fled. Aren’t you going to chase after them?”

“You Bloodkin b*tch, you’re clutching my head! How am I supposed to chase anyone like this?”

The warrior wailed, snot and tears streaming down his face. Suddenly, a gurgling sound of liquid echoed beneath Iqiyah. She glanced down to see an unmistakable stream of fluid cascading from the warrior’s pant leg, splashing onto the corridor floor.

“Tsk! Filthy, vile human!” Iqiyah’s brow furrowed in disgust. “You come seeking treasure in my domain, yet you lack even the slightest resolve to face death?”

“G-gulp… I have an eighty-year-old mother and a three-year-old child! Please, show mercy, great one, and spare my life!”

“Hmph, such a tired plea…”

Ordinarily, witnessing the warrior’s pathetic wails would have spurred Iqiyah to torment him thoroughly. She would have offered him a glimmer of hope, only to snatch it away the moment he believed escape was within reach, plunging him back into the abyss of despair.

This cycle would repeat until her amusement waned, at which point she would simply crush his head and summon her maids to dispose of the remains.

Yet today, an inexplicable weariness had settled upon her. She felt so utterly drained that even the prospect of tormenting her prey held no appeal. All she desired was to be done with it.

‘Ugh… I truly wish I could return at once and have Seraphina thoroughly [Purify] me…’

“You’re soiled. I have no taste for unclean things, so I shan’t consume you.”

Suppressing her profound physical exhaustion, Iqiyah impatiently waved a hand. Crimson energy swirled and intertwined, coalescing into a dripping wet mop.

“Clean this floor, then get out of my sight!” With a dismissive flick of her wrist, she hurled both the warrior and the mop to the ground.

“Y-yes, yes, yes!” The warrior, sprawled on the floor, dared not betray even a hint of displeasure. He snatched the mop as if it were a lifeline, then sprang to his feet, commencing a frantic, whirlwind-like scrubbing that left the corridor awash with water.

“Why are you scrubbing so quickly!? Be more thorough!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Suspended in mid-air, Iqiyah watched the warrior clean the floor, feeling her weariness deepen with each passing moment.

‘What is happening to me?’

Her vision seemed shrouded by a gray veil. Iqiyah felt a chill spread through her body, a profound weakness in her limbs, and a dizzying haze in her mind. Her eyes struggled to discern anything clearly.

Unable to sustain her flight magic, she stumbled, then plummeted from the air.

The sudden descent, however, left her entirely unprepared for impact. With a dull thud, Iqiyah’s legs gave out, sending her tumbling to the floor.

“Haaah, haaah…”

Sprawled awkwardly on the ground, Iqiyah gulped in ragged breaths.

‘No, this is all wrong. In my ten thousand years of existence, I have never experienced anything like this!’

“Hey! Human!” With a tremendous effort, Iqiyah pushed herself up, glaring at the warrior beside her. “Was it you? Did you play some trick on me?”

“Eep! I-I wouldn’t know!”

Observing the warrior, who was clearly terrified out of his wits, Iqiyah shook her head.

‘No, it couldn’t be him. So utterly petrified, he wouldn’t dare attempt anything against me.’

‘Then it can only be something within myself…’

Suddenly, without warning, Seraphina’s words echoed in Iqiyah’s mind.

“Is the vital essence in your necklace infinite? How can you use it every single day and never run out!?”

‘Vital essence! It must be the vital essence!’

While Iqiyah’s lifespan had indeed spanned entire civilizations, both the [Initial Embrace] and the use of her vital essence to control retainers were entirely novel experiences for her.

For ten millennia, having never possessed retainers, she had never once drawn upon her own vital essence.

Yet, in the span of merely four days, she had subjected her body to an intense, high-frequency drain, averaging at least once a day—and that was a conservative estimate. She had expended the equivalent of ten millennia’s worth of vital essence in just a few days, and her body was, quite understandably, rebelling.

“Ugh, this utterly useless body…”

“Um, are you quite alright, milady…?”

“Just get out!”

At Iqiyah’s command, the warrior flung the mop aside and scrambled away, fleeing as fast as his legs could carry him.

‘Tsk, no, that was wrong. I should have made him help me up…’

Trembling, Iqiyah pushed herself up, crawling awkwardly on the floor with her hands. A flicker of hope ignited within her as she gazed towards the direction the warrior had fled.

To her surprise, a figure did indeed emerge from the darkened corridor ahead, appearing almost as tall as the fleeing warrior.

‘Hey, did that fellow actually come back to help me? I didn’t expect him to be such a good person after all.’

“Um, I believe I might still require your assistance to stand…”

A surge of unexpected joy coursed through her. Iqiyah relaxed her body, remaining prone on the floor, and watched the approaching figure with quiet anticipation.

Yet, as the figure grew larger with each step, a faint sense of unease began to prickle Iqiyah.

‘Strange, was he truly this imposing before?’

Unlike the warrior who had fled, this approaching figure, though similar in height, appeared significantly bulkier—a full circle wider. Even their gait exuded an entirely different, more formidable aura.

‘Was his armor truly this thick?’

Before Iqiyah could ponder further, a distinct ‘clang-clang-clang’ of metallic armor suddenly echoed from the distance.

The crisp, unmistakable sound of cold metal instantly made Iqiyah’s ears twitch, then snap upright. ‘No! The man who just fled made no such noise!’

‘Then there’s only one explanation: a new enemy!’

“Hey! Who goes there? State your name!”

Iqiyah deliberately projected her voice, a forceful exhalation of sound.

‘Ugh… my current state is dire. I must try to avoid this enemy.’

‘I’ll just scare them off.’

“I am the mistress of the Blood Manor, the eldest daughter of the Bloodkin, the Blood Princess Iqiyah Scarlett!”

“If you choose to turn back now, I might just spare your life!”

“Mistress of the Blood Manor?”

A voice, brimming with confident cheerfulness, rang out. It was undeniably female.

“Hahahahaha! I’ve finally found you!”

This was a pitch of excitement Iqiyah had never encountered. Every adventurer she’d met previously, upon seeing her, was consumed either by rage or terror. Oh, and of course, there were those who would cling to her feet, licking them incessantly. But none had ever sounded so utterly thrilled.

Listening to that high-pitched, exuberant voice, a shiver of unease traced its way down Iqiyah’s spine.

She was reminded of a cat she once kept. At the precise moment it would pin a captured mouse beneath its paw, the feline would sometimes emit a low, excited purr.

That sound… and this person’s agitated voice… their inflections were almost identical.

“However… seeing you in such a sorry state, it truly casts doubt.”

As if a curtain had been drawn back, a figure in gleaming silver armor emerged from the darkness, bathed in the corridor’s sparse light.

“Did you merely take an unfortunate tumble, my poor BOSS lady?”

With a resonant whoosh, an elaborately adorned silver longsword sliced through the air, coming to rest horizontally before Iqiyah’s eyes.

Simultaneously, the clanking of armor ceased.

Iqiyah looked up at the knight before her. Amidst a physiologically unsettling silver glare, the knight removed their helmet, revealing a mane of vibrant golden hair… and an undeniably proud smile.

“Or perhaps… do you Bloodkin have a peculiar fondness for lying on dirty floors?”