Volume 3 Chapter 201 The Fake Couple Operation
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
After breaking up with Eleonora, Kian returned to Ramsey’s mansion.
In the courtyard, cleaning had resumed while he was away. The maids bustled around with soiled tablecloths and finger bowls in hand. Not wanting to disturb their work, Kian veered toward the outer edge of the courtyard, intending to slip quietly into the house. But before he could, several maids stopped what they were doing and deliberately made their way toward him.
”Sir Kian!”
”Lord Kian!”
”Master Kian!”
”Thank you for your hard work, everyone,” Kian replied with a courteous smile.
Ever since Linca had thoroughly drilled him in manners—and after absorbing Talia’s blood—Kian’s charm had visibly increased. Just as Talia had said, both women and men felt drawn to his body, to the point of sexual attraction. Before and after the ceremony, nobles had made excessive contact with him, touching him uninvited. Once the alcohol kicked in and his body began to sweat, the effect became even more pronounced—people of every gender found themselves captivated.
He had only been able to speak properly with Archbishop Homolka that evening afterthe crowd around him had finally thinned out.
”Are you already resting?” one of the maids asked, tilting her head slightly, her cheeks tinged pink.
The others were no different—they all looked up at Kian with flushed faces, breaths faintly quickened. Among them, one maid even reached her right hand toward the hem of her skirt, fingers brushing near her inner thigh.
Kian felt a tightness form low in his abdomen from the wave of arousal that drifted in the air, but he managed—barely—to maintain a gentlemanly composure.
”Yes,” he said. “I was thinking of checking on the magic fortress, but my companions stopped me. Told me to rest instead.”
”That’s for the best, Sir Kian. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” one maid said with genuine concern.
”Oh, right,” another piped up. “Someone came by to deliver a package for you earlier in the evening.”
”They tried to bring it to your room, but Lord Henrik stopped them,” another maid added, then clarified with a slight frown: “He said—’What if the contents were dangerous?’”
Henrik—the mansion’s butler.
An old man with a white beard who had served since the days of the previous Lord Oswald. Sharp, capable, and exceptionally competent.
”Ah, yes. That package. It’s something I asked my companions to transport,” Kian nodded in understanding.
”I see. Then please retrieve it from storage, if you don’t mind.”
”Thank you,” Kian said, giving them a short bow before walking past.
He could still feel their sticky gazes tracking his every step.
”Sir Kian, I wish you’d just stay here forever…”
”Right? He’s like a prince from some foreign kingdom… he’s wonderful,” one whispered.
”Henrik, too? He’s great with paperwork, numbers, and even speaks three languages. If I could marry someone like him, I’d totally win at life. Imagine telling the neighbors!”
”But they’re not married yet, right? Didn’t Lady Sarah and Lady Linca get into it over him?”
”They sleep in different bedrooms. So it hasn’t gotten thatfar, right? Maybe that fight was why they broke up.”
”So is he gree? Even if he’s not free, someone would be nice…”
Kian tried not to hear their murmured gossip, though the words still floated to his ears.
(This is why getting involved is just a hassle for someone like me—a low-rank adventurer.)
He shook his head internally.
Maybe they were just young. Probably not thinking ahead. They were all in their late teens—prime age to chase love or lust, driven by hormones and shallow fantasies.
Kian had been like that too, once.
Back then, trying to stave off the isolation of being in a foreign land, he’d emotionally clung to women at the brōtḥel. He had depended on them to soothe the emptiness in his chest. So when one of those women was suddenly bought off by another rich adventurer, he felt like he’d been betrayed all over again—first Sarah, now her.
That woman might’ve devoted herself fully to him.
He’d trained her thoroughly—taught her the shape of his hands, the rhythm of his touch. But in the end, she chose money.
In this world, it’s always money. Money, power… and then violence and sex.
(Alright. Enough of that.)
Kian spotted the large wooden box carelessly placed near the warehouse entrance.
He lifted it with both arms, locked it with the master key, and hurried upstairs to his room.
The box held the vampire’s legacy—what Talia had recovered from the old fortress where her flesh puppet had been kept. Inside should be valuable goods, mysterious tools, and ancient currency. If Maribel didn’t pay up, he could sell some of these to prepare rewards for Rufna, Sarah, and Linca.
Once inside what had once been Lord Oswald’s bedroom, Kian dropped the box on the bed with a heavy thud. Like a dancer mid-performance, he moved in fluid strides to the balcony, where he set up the bathtub. His face was still covered in ceremonial makeup, so he washed up right there, letting the cold water shock some life into him.
When he returned to the room, he approached the box and began unlocking the latches.
”Whoa… there’s a lot in here,” he muttered, excitement bubbling in his chest. “This is the kind of moment I live for. Uncovering treasure like this… I guess I’m still an adventurer, no matter how far I go.”
Leaning in, Kian let his fingers brush over the contents of the hidden trove. His eyes gleamed as he began sorting through the pile of ancient relics—healing ointments, gold coins from forgotten kingdoms, chastity belts, handcuffs, aphrodisiacs, and even a drug that only dissolved clothing.
Kian tilted his head.
(This part was odd. Even for Count Cain. Come to think of it, Talia mentioned something like this before…)
Vampires, unable to generate their own magic, had to draw it from humans who had become Blood Servants. It was said that if the body was sexually stimulated and entered a trance during blood extraction, the resulting magic was of higher quality.
Count Cain, Talia’s father, apparently subscribed to this theory. It was presumed he’d prepared all sorts of drugs and gear to enhance the experience for his daughter’s entourage. Whether it was the mini-skirt outfit for Talia or the chains-and-leather getups for the servants, one thing was clear—
’He had surprisingly refined taste. If he weren’t dead (I think?), I’d have liked to share a drink with him,’ Kian mused.
He set the bottle of clothing-dissolving potion aside, deciding it was a good time to bathe. Shedding his formal wear, he scrubbed himself clean on the balcony, rinsed off the foam, then slipped into the hot water.
This luxury wouldn’t last. Once he left Ramsey, he’d be relying on public baths again—long, lazy soaks like this would be rare.
(Didn’t Maribel mention something about granting him a mansion in the Labyrinth of Roses…?)
If he couldn’t cough up the 1,500 gold, maybe he should consider claiming it. After all, returning to Izerland and staying at The Boar’s Trot Innrun by Esther and Robert wasn’t ideal—it was no place for proper storage. A large estate, even in the suburbs, made more sense.
Just then, a faint scraping—metal on stone—echoed from beneath the balcony.
An intruder.
There was no trace of magic. Likely some invisibility spell. But to a vampire’s nose, no trick could fully conceal a scent.
Kian wrinkled his nose, picking up the citrusy trace of soap… and Priscilla.
Sure enough, a familiar crafted from dragon bone peeked over the railing.
”Lord Kian,” her voice floated up.
Kian raised an eyebrow. “What brings you here at this hour, Ms. Priscilla?”
”I came to play,” she said simply.
She landed on the balcony with a soft thud—wearing what looked like a very expensive blue nightgown, now stained with dirt and leaves. More oddly, white threads were wrapped tightly around her arms and legs. She collapsed on her backside like a caterpillar.
Kian stared, deadpan.
’She really doesn’t look like someone who came here to have fun.’
”Just cut these threads for me, okay? I’m tied up. Louis did it.”
Priscilla hopped onto the bedroom carpet, squirming and rolling around. She bumped into the potion bottle—the one that only dissolved clothing.
”Oops! Sorry, sorry~” she giggled, sticking her tongue out without a hint of remorse.
Kian narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”
”Oh, so it’s meyou blame? Not Louis?”
”Isn’t that the obvious assumption?”
”Nope. This one’s allon Louis. A hundred percent. Last night, this pompous bishop’s son from the banquet came to our inn. He wouldn’t stop talking and kept ogling me, so… I spiked his drink.”
”You poisonedthe bishop’s son!?”
Kian jolted upright, water splashing everywhere.
Priscilla stared straight at his groin, face flushing.
”N-no! It was just the sleeping drug I gave you before! He’ll be out cold until morning. I was debating between that and a laxative, but I didn’t want the bathroom to reek.”
Kian groaned. “That’s stillbad.”
”It’s fine, I diluted it! They’ll just assume he drank too much beer. But now my brothers are pissed.”
”Of course they are,” Kian muttered, rubbing his temples and sinking back into the bath.
This woman… she seriously has a few screws loose.
She’d poisoned Maribel once and didn’t even blink. The more he thought about it, the less he saw her as someone fit for marriage—or even friendship.
”Hey, Lord Kian! Can you help me already? The blood flow’s stopped in my arms and legs, and I can’t feel my hands!”
She pouted, wriggling her slim frame on the floor. Her long white hair rippled as she moved.
She’d better stop that before Sarah or Natra find strands all over the place… that’d be a pain.
”I could just hand you over to Lord Louis. I’ll call someone right away.”
”W-wait! No! Please! I really can’t deal with him right now! Let me stay here tonight! If not, I’ll transform into a dragon and crush this mansion!”
”What a malicioustrespasser…”
He considered calling for Talia—but of course, she was nowhere to be found. She always vanished when it counted.
”If you don’t help me,” Priscilla threatened, “I’ll scream. I’ll tell everyone I was brought here bound and almost r*ped! The knights and maids downstairs will hear everything!”
”Shh! Keep your voice down! What if Sarah or Linca hear?”
”Then help me already! You can even see my private—I don’t care!”
”Ms. Priscilla, please watch that bottle—”
”Huh? …Ah.”
Still writhing around, she rolled over the bottle containing the clothing-dissolving potion.
With a dull crack, the glass shattered beneath her.
”Ms. Priscilla!”
Kian leapt from the bath, water splashing around him, and hurried over.
”Whoa!?”
”Are you hurt?”
He flipped her over carefully. Her expensive nightgown had melted from the potion, revealing her pale, porcelain skin underneath.
No cuts, no scales, no injuries. She was a dragon in form, but not in appearance.
”I-I’m fine, so don’t touch me so casually! I’m an unmarried woman!”
”You usually don’t mind touching. Why so modest now?”
”Wha—!? When have I everbeen touchy-feely with you!? When we first met!?”
”Well… since then? Maybe it was medoing the touching. With forced oral.”
”Shut up!!”
”Anyway. Let’s cut these.”
Kian grabbed the Misty Magic Sword from the corner and swung it twice with precision. The enchanted blade sliced through Louis’s binding threads.
”Careful! You almost got my skin!”
”I wouldn’t miss.”
She snorted as he returned the sword to its scabbard and reached for his bathrobe.
”Feel free to sit anywhere,” he said. “I’ll make tea shortly.”
* * *
”I’ll reimburse you for the medicine later. Please give me the bill.”
Five minutes later, Priscilla sat neatly on the edge of the bed, tightly wrapped in a floral blanket. She spoke solemnly.
Kian had pulled a chair near the balcony and sat quietly, staring into the night.
He’d seen this scene before—back when it was Sarah in that bed.
That time, things had escalated to sex.
Tonight, he had to restrain himself.
If he laid a finger on Priscilla, he’d be forced to marry into the Châtillon family.
(Huh? What’s so bad about that? Actually… compared to the risk of falling into Maribel’s trap and getting stuck as Defense Minister, being under the Châtillon family’s protection might be the better deal.)
”Lord Kian?” Priscilla tilted her head.
”No, I’m sorry,” Kian muttered and shook his head, picking up his cup of tea.
”So,” he began, “who’s this bishop’s son chasing after you? It’s not Archbishop Homolka’s son, is it?”
Priscilla gave a short laugh. “No, no. The next Archbishop of Izerland isn’t even here. The one courting me is Bishop Ramsey’s son. Yalchin Mancuso’s boy—Eros Mancuso. He’s an 18-year-old blondie…”
She started to describe him, but Kian already remembered Eros clearly from the ceremony earlier.
Like Bishop Yalchin, the son had a well-fed, healthy look. Fat—wealth. He was the upper class personified, someone Kian couldn’t compete with.
Eros had come across as a bright, sincere youth with the characteristic seriousness of the clergy.
If he ever showed up in the courtyard again, the maids would forget all about Kian in a heartbeat.
Youth and wealth were just that powerful.
”He’s a good match,” Kian said quietly. “Seven years younger than you, and well-connected to Bishop Ramsey. The Châtillon family at the border would only benefit.”
”You’re sounding like Louis,” Priscilla frowned. “What about how Ifeel?”
”Ms. Priscilla,” Kian replied, tone flat. “A noble daughter doesn’t marry for love. That goes for all families. You make the effort to love the person your parents choose.”
Priscilla slammed the saucer and cup onto the table. “I appreciate the lecture, Lord Kian,” she said with venom in her voice.
”We didn’t click at all when we spoke,” she continued, fuming. “All he went on about was the teachings of the Western Church, what his father did in Ramsey, and some fables she reads to orphans. That last one was the worst. Eros’s fables? Meaningless trash. I don’t even remember any of it. I couldn’t care less.”
”In situations like that,” Kian advised, “you should just smile and nod like a lady.”
”Hah.” Priscilla shrugged, crossing her long legs.
Kian’s eyes instinctively dropped. Slender yet curved—her legs were different from Sarah’s or Linca’s. They lacked muscle, but had a sensual shape that was hard to ignore.
She wasn’t well-endowed up top, but her hips had a distinct feminine curve.
Kian clenched his thighs and crossed his legs to hide his erection, mimicking her posture.
He thought bitterly: If Linca hadn’t plucked my pubes, I’d have hair caught between my thighs and shaft right now.
”I don’t get it,” Priscilla muttered. “How can someone fall for someone they don’t even like? Look at Fhana. She hates Guy and sleeps around.”
Kian replied, “That’s how central aristocrats are. Marriage is business. Love comes after—or doesn’t. Lady Fhana was raised with those values. She’s just doing what she thinks is normal.”
”That’s disgusting,” Priscilla scowled.
”Sarah was engaged to me just to steal our techniques—our insect technique, blast technique. Her parents forced it. When we reunited, she said she didn’t even like me back then. But she tried. She worked to love me, even just a little. People can change, depending on how they choose to see things.”
Priscilla’s face twisted. “So when she got what she wanted, she tossed you aside?”
”It’s not for me to judge,” Kian replied. “But yeah. It hurt. She even said she was relieved after I was gone—no more burden. She went back to the Nakash family and got her peace of mind back.”
”…I think I’m starting to hate Lady Sarah,” Priscilla muttered. She hugged her knees.
Kian felt it—the tip of his erection brushing along the inside of his thigh.
It traced the shape of his skin, unbearable.
”Sarah’s nothing like you,” he said. “You’re more like—Linca.”
”I take orders from no one.” Priscilla’s voice was firm. “I chose to study magic in the Royal Capital. I became Head Magician by skill alone. Guy, Louis, Adrian—they can’t touch my marriage. If I marry, I lose my standing as the top Witch of Châtillon. Papa says I don’t have to marry at all.”
”Then don’t,” Kian said seriously. “If Lord Renaud says it, no one else can object. Not even your brothers—at least until Lord Renaud dies.”
”Right?!” Priscilla jumped off the bed, blanket clutched tight. “The worst! I’m definitely refusing. But… Louis is serious this time. When he heard Eros is 18, his eyes sparkled. Considering how long we live, maybe he’s right…”
”If you married a 38-year-old, he could die in ten years, depending on life force. You might not even be able to have kids.”
”Anyway—”
Priscilla came closer.
She wrapped the blanket around her with one hand and reached out with the other, gripping Kian’s hand tightly.
”What if… Lord Kian and I were dating?”
”…No,” Kian said flatly. “I have no intention of marrying you.”
”I know.” Her voice trembled. “How many times do I have to say it? It hurts me too, so stop bringing it up.”
Still holding his hand, Priscilla stabilized her blanket with magic, enclosing his fingers in both of hers.
White hair brushed across his eyes. A fresh citrus scent filled the air.
”A fake couple,” she whispered. “Just while I’m here. One or two days. We’ll act like we’re dating and get Eros to back off.”
”Lord Louis will blow a vein,” Kian muttered.
”They’re both out tomorrow and the day after,” she said quickly. “Card game tournament at ‘Seventh Dragon’ tavern. Lishena’s supposed to check if I’m getting along with Eros—but I’ll lie. I’ll say we’re doing great.”
(This is gonna bite Lishena in the ass later…)
”Please, Lord Kian. I’ll even forget about the debt from when I showed you the Misty Magic Sword.”
”Uh… okay…”
”Money! I’ll pay you!” Priscilla grabbed a pouch from her familiar and yanked out five Franz Kingdom Gold Coins.
”Fivetimes what Gonzales gave!?”
”────? Wait. You worked that hardfor just one coin? That’s messed up!”
”I’m a lower-rank adventurer. One coin is a lot for me.”
”No, no. That’s not right. You should’ve said it was too little. Undervaluing yourself—that’s one of your bad habits.”
”Yes…”
”Also—those rare gold coins and ancient tools you’ve got stashed away… you’re trying to sell them off, right? Because the princess didn’t pay you?”
”Ugh… That’s…”
”I’ll buy them. So please be my boyfriend. When it’s over, we’ll pretend we fought and broke up. Christina’ll understand—it’s just camouflage.”
”No, but…”
”If I hadn’t saved you, you’d be dead by now—either from Linca or as Jibril’s lab rat. You owe me!”
That struck deep.
The research samples he’d given her were actually things he’d made Talia bring.
He hadn’t truly repaid her at all.
Kian let out a heavy sigh and nodded.
”…Alright. I’ll play your boyfriend, just for this Eros thing. But I’m telling Natra everything. And if Christy finds out, you’re the one explaining it.”
”Yay, I love you, Lord Kian!”
With a loud thud, her body collided into him, wrapping around him like a pillow.
The pleasant weight, the softness, and that sweet scent overwhelmed him.
”Ah, s-sorry!”
”N-no…”
They both pulled away, faces red.
Kian stood, flustered.
”Uh, um… We need to figure out what you’ll wear by morning.”
”Y-yeah. Anything’s fine. Even just your innerwear.”
”I’ve got a dress shirt. Should reach your thighs, with our size difference. But you’ll need underwear—I’ll have the maid bring some.”
”I’m sorry, but… could I ask you a favor?”
”Of course.”
Kian nodded and opened the closet.
A few minutes later, Priscilla had changed into his oversized shirt.
Strangely, seeing her in his clothes made him feel a guilt stronger than even when Linca had worn them.
Notes:
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Henrik – The white-bearded butler is a competent and loyal servant to the Ramsey family. His efficiency and fluency in multiple languages make him an invaluable asset.
• Count Cain – Talia’s father.
• Louis – Trusted subordinates from the Châtillon family, part of Guy’s elite force.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Eros – The bishop’s son is an 18-year-old suitor, described as a cheerful and sincere young man. His courtship of Priscilla adds a layer of intrigue to the narrative.
• Lishena – Trusted subordinates from the Châtillon family, part of Guy’s elite force.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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