A cluster of pale purple clouds gradually gathered at the horizon, and the sun leisurely peeked its head from behind them. The Sun Goddess cast her radiance upon Ma’en City.
In Black Rat Street, at the small house of Number 302, the morning light filtered through the window in the wooden wall. The sunlight slowly spilled over the edge of the coffin, dispelling the gloom of the small wooden hut and bringing a soft warmth.
Vivian lazily pushed aside the coffin lid and sat up. Her eyes were unfocused, clouded with the haze of someone who had just woken up. She raised a hand and let out a yawn. Turning back, she glanced at Nolan, who was still asleep. She blinked her large eyes with a hint of worry.
‘Has Nolan been sleeping for this long? Is he really okay?’
Vivian placed her finger beneath Nolan’s nose to check his breathing. A long, warm breath brushed against her fingertip. Vivian breathed a sigh of relief.
‘He’s still breathing, so he’s fine. Probably…’ she thought uncertainly.
Afterward, Vivian sluggishly climbed out of the coffin.
Ah, what a wonderful morning.
She stretched her limbs and took a deep breath of the misty air. It was tainted with the faint scent of manure drifting in from the window, but Vivian tilted her small face upward with a satisfied, entranced expression.
‘This is it. This is what the Middle Ages should smell like!’ she thought.
Suddenly, Vivian’s expression changed, and her brows furrowed. The purple sunlight fell upon Vivian’s exposed skin, and a stream of white vapor instantly rose from it.
‘You shameless Sun Goddess! Don’t we vampires have the right to enjoy the morning too?!’
Vivian pointed at the sun outside the window and gave it a scolding before quickly stepping toward the window. With a *clatter*, she shut the open window, restoring the comfortable darkness to the small cabin.
Vivian stood in place, smoothing her cowlick and scratching her foot. She began to enjoy her leisurely morning. No anxiety over studying, no worrying about paying rent, and no annoying job. Life like this was truly blissful.
After lingering in her emotions for a while, she finally remembered what she was supposed to do.
“Oh right, I should prepare breakfast…”
Vivian walked to the stove with practiced ease and began to fiddle with the firewood. After a moment, a thick, choking cloud of black smoke rose.
“Cough, cough, cough!”
Vivian choked on the smoke, her face becoming covered in soot until she looked like a worker who had just crawled out of a coal mine. Breakfast preparations didn’t seem to be going well today, which inevitably left her a bit frustrated. The firewood in the house had unexpectedly become damp during the few days she was away. Now, she couldn’t get a fire started no matter what she tried.
Vivian collapsed onto the floor, lying there motionless like a salted fish without any dreams.
‘Maybe I just won’t eat breakfast. I’m a vampire princess anyway; I don’t need food.’
Eating breakfast was merely a habit she had retained. Once the thought of slacking off took root, the world felt much wider. Vivian rolled over without any psychological burden. She stretched her limbs like a cat.
“So good…”
The physical and mental comfort made her subconsciously smack her lips. But then…
‘But if there’s no breakfast, my husband will starve… and if my husband starves, then eventually… I’ll starve too!’
A logical thought suddenly flashed through Vivian’s not-so-bright head. Finally, she reached a shocking conclusion.
‘Am I going to starve to death at home?’
At that thought, she jumped straight up from the floor and turned toward the door. Vivian planned to borrow some dry wood from Uncle Hawthorne next door. Just as she reached the door, she suddenly caught sight of the Zaphira statue she had tossed aside.
She paused her footsteps and rubbed her smooth chin. An absurd idea popped into her head. Vivian remembered the day Zaphira had summoned those towering flames.
‘Maybe I can try using Zaphira to start the fire.’
She grabbed the statue from the floor. The Zaphira on the statue was leaning lazily against a longsword. Her eyes were squinted, and a large snot bubble was inflating on her face. This terrifying demon appeared to be fast asleep.
But Vivian wasn’t going to indulge her.
“No sleeping!” Vivian grabbed the statue and twisted it with force.
“Ahhh! Ow, ow, ow!”
“What are you doing, you flat-chested vampire?!”
An indescribable scream erupted from the statue.
“That ability you had before to summon fire—can you use it now?” Vivian asked with a cold face.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, but there’s no way I’m going to follow the wishes of a small fry like you. So you might as well give up!” Zaphira sneered.
‘Hmph, I knew there was no point in being nice to an evil creature like this.’
Vivian gripped the head and feet of the statue with both hands and gave it a powerful twist, like she was wringing a towel. Under her immense strength, the statue actually began to distort. Tiny, intersecting cracks appeared on the surface.
Dark red blood continuously seeped from the cracks. It sizzled as it hit the floorboards, corroding a large hole in the wood.
“Stop twisting! Stop twisting, sister!”
“I’ll do whatever you say!”
The Zaphira statue changed into a crying face once more.
‘Should’ve just done that from the start. Why act like such a tough nut? Or is she some kind of masochist…?’ Vivian muttered to herself.
She went to the stove and stuffed the Zaphira statue underneath. The statue shook its body, and a plume of raging fire erupted from the top. Orange flames licked the bottom of the pot, and a few wisps even peeked through the gaps in the stovetop.
“Zaphira, keep the fire low. Don’t burn my house down,” Vivian reminded her in a low voice.
“Okay, sister.”
The flames quickly retracted.
‘It’s even voice-controlled. This is better than the gas stove from my previous life… This is the technology of another world. Demons really do make life easier.’
Vivian suddenly felt a bit of anticipation for Zaphira’s other demon sisters. She really hoped they were all as useful as Zaphira.
In the blink of an eye, a *glug-glug* sound could be heard. The water in the large pot was boiling with snowy white foam. Vivian pulled a handful of mixed oats and barley flour from a burlap sack near the stove and threw it all into the boiling water.
Then, she took out a small wooden spoon and stirred vigorously in one direction to prevent the ingredients from sticking to the bottom and burning. While the fire was high, Vivian took out the dagger that had dropped from Carlyle. She peeled the carrots left over from a few days ago, cut them into chunks, and threw them into the pot.
The pot bubbled with white foam, with bright carrot chunks occasionally flashing through the surface. White steam, carrying the fragrance of grains and vegetables, drifted upward. Before long, the small cabin was filled with a sweet, cozy aroma.
As Vivian stared blankly at the mist in boredom, she suddenly thought of something else. She leaned down and pulled a ceramic jar from the very bottom of the stove. Opening the lid, she revealed a handful of deep purple and brownish-black dried fruits inside.
These were dried figs, a rare and hard-to-find ingredient in this place. According to the merchant who sold them, they were shipped across the sea from another continent. Only nobles and clergymen had the money to buy them.
Vivian had been in a daze when she spent a large sum of money to buy this tiny bit of fruit. She hadn’t even been willing to eat a single bite herself… it was truly a wasteful act.
‘I’ll let you have it easy today, kid.’
With a twinge of regret, Vivian grabbed a handful of dried figs and tossed them into the pot. The shriveled fruits gradually expanded in the hot porridge, soaking up the grain milk.
‘You better get well soon, Nolan… I’m still waiting for you to feed me.’
Vivian prayed for Nolan in her heart while stirring the thickening porridge. Before long, a hint of sweet fruitiness was added to the air of the small cabin.
From the coffin not far away, Nolan seemed to have heard his wife’s prayer. His eyelid twitched ever so slightly.
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