Vampire 3
The warden’s hands trembled as he fumbled with the key, unlocking the cell. Only then did he realize—at some point, Morse had already freed himself from his shackles.
He wanted to scream, but the oppressive aura Morse exuded made his throat tighten involuntarily.
Morse stepped out of the cell awkwardly, his long limbs swinging.
He wanted to leave a lasting impression on his angel—one that was defiant yet refined.
And then…
He heard the angel’s disgusted voice.
Tang Xi: “Oh god, he’s filthy. Hurry up and get him cleaned.”
To emphasize his disdain, Tang Xi even took two deliberate steps back and pinched his nose.
Grover, ever prepared, smoothly pulled out a perfume bottle and spritzed it into the air twice.
Perfume was still considered a luxury in this world, but in this extravagant manor, Tang Xi treated it like an air freshener.
However, he didn’t like overly strong scents, so he frowned again.
To outsiders, it only reinforced how much he loathed this slave.
Morse felt like his heart, which had just been racing, was now shattering into pieces.
His expression grew even more fierce, resembling an enraged wolfdog.
Tang Xi secretly chuckled to himself.
He did it on purpose—he wanted to break his poop scooper’s heart.
The poop scooper could have come to find him, but instead, he kept avoiding him.
Angry cat.jpg
Tang Xi decided to be a little willful this time and take advantage of his character’s persona to bully his poop scooper in this mission world.
And conveniently, in this world, the poop scooper had to call him “Master.”
The mere thought of that made Tang Xi’s ears turn slightly red.
To avoid being noticed, he simply turned around and left.
To everyone else, it looked like he had completely run out of patience for this filthy slave.
Morse, like an abandoned dog, could only watch his angel leave with pitiful eyes.
He raised his hand and sniffed himself suspiciously. There was no foul smell, just the damp scent of the dungeon itself.
His face and clothes, however, were indeed dirty, covered in bits of soil.
After all, when he fell into slumber a hundred years ago, he had buried himself underground.
He never expected that some audacious human trafficker would dig him up and sell him as a slave.
The more Morse thought about it, the angrier he became. That trafficker was the reason his angel despised him.
He needed to kill him.
With that thought, he coldly commanded, “Take me… to wash.”
Having not spoken for too long, his vocal cords were still unaccustomed to human language.
His tone didn’t sound like that of a slave—it sounded like someone ordering a slave around.
Yet the dungeon warden, upon meeting his deep, pitch-black gaze, instantly lost the ability to speak.
With a stiff nod, he led the way, looking as if his soul had just been stolen.
Meanwhile, after turning his nose up at his poop scooper, Tang Xi happily returned to the castle.
He ordered Grover to release the other slaves.
Grover hesitated. “Were you dissatisfied with this batch of slaves? I can have them disposed of immediately.”
Disposed of—that didn’t sound like a good word.
Tang Xi frowned slightly and corrected himself, “Forget it. Find a doctor to treat them. They all look sickly. Even if you bring in new ones, they’ll just end up the same way.”
Most of the slaves had some kind of illness, and after taking a closer look, Tang Xi couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic.
He only wanted to torment his poop scooper, not be as cruel to the slaves as the original character.
Grover looked surprised by his words, pausing for a moment.
Tang Xi continued, “I don’t want people thinking I can only afford weak, sickly slaves.”
To make himself more convincing, he even lifted his chin proudly.
Sure enough, Grover didn’t suspect a thing.
When Morse arrived, the first thing he saw was the young master, looking every bit like a proud little cat, speaking to the butler.
Morse’s eyes darkened slightly.
Tang Xi noticed Morse and beckoned him over like one would call a dog.
He showed a picky little expression and said, “Now that you’re clean, you finally look somewhat decent.”
But “somewhat decent” was an understatement. The man was tall and strikingly handsome, his demeanor far from that of a typical slave. He stood there, nonchalant, his presence more befitting a noble than a servant, even in ragged clothing.
Of course, Tang Xi wasn’t about to let him get smug. He deliberately kept his expression neutral, refusing to show any admiration.
Morse bowed gracefully. “Young Master.”
His voice was as rich and intoxicating as aged wine.
Tang Xi huffed. “From now on, you will serve me personally.”
He deliberately emphasized the word personally, just to see the humiliation on his poop scooper’s face.
Morse’s entire body stiffened. As expected, at the mention of personally, his expression turned slightly unnatural, his earlier relaxed demeanor disappearing.
Feeling pleased with himself, Tang Xi poked at the system. [Look! I’m bullying the poop scooper so badly.]
The system, having just been unmuted, responded sluggishly. […As long as you’re happy.]
Tang Xi brushed past Morse and continued walking.
Morse took a deep breath.
The air still carried a faint, almost bewitching scent of the young master.
His eyes briefly turned blood-red before quickly reverting to black.
One word echoed endlessly in his mind: Personally… personally…
Oh, dear God. He’s too sweet. As expected of my angel.
Suppressing his emotions, Morse quickly followed after Tang Xi.
With Grover busy handling the slaves, the maid, Linda, stepped in to assist.
She asked softly, “What would you like for lunch, Young Master?”
Tang Xi searched through the original character’s memories and found that he loved a particular type of wild rabbit—Fist Rabbit. It was notoriously difficult to hunt, but they could sometimes be spotted on the mountain behind the estate.
With an intentionally difficult tone, he turned to Morse. “You’re going to catch a Fist Rabbit for me later. If I don’t see it on my plate at lunchtime, you’re finished.”
The boy sounded arrogant, yet it only made him all the more captivating.
Even though Tang Xi wasn’t looking at him, Morse placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly, performing a knight’s salute. “As you command, my young master.”
Tang Xi was too busy showing off to the system to notice the intimate, almost flirtatious tone in Morse’s voice, but Linda raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Tang Xi: [See? I’m so bad.]
1551, playing along: [Wow, you’re so bad.]
He didn’t turn around, unaware that the poop scooper he expected to be filled with shame was, in fact, smiling sweetly.
He trusts me so much. Of course, my angel. Whatever you desire, I will bring it to you.
Morse’s lips curled into a faint smirk.
Tang Xi deliberately arrived at the dining hall half an hour early. As expected, a freshly roasted Fist Rabbit was already waiting for him on the table.
The kitchen had even brushed it with fresh honey, making the aroma even more enticing.
Tang Xi’s eyes sparkled as he took a bite—but he wasn’t about to let his poop scooper feel too proud just yet.
So, he deliberately praised the honey today.
The servant standing nearby immediately spoke up: “This honey comes from the Giant King Bee. These bees are highly venomous, but the honey they produce is exceptional.”
He was in charge of the kitchen and took the opportunity to earn some favor for himself.
After all, whenever this young master was pleased, he would generously reward his servants without hesitation.
Tang Xi nodded. “No wonder this kind of honey isn’t normally available. That deserves a reward. Where is the person who harvested it?”
The servant froze, disappointment flashing across his face. He hadn’t expected the young master to be so attentive as to ask who had collected the honey.
Usually, when Tang Xi was in a good mood, he would casually reward whoever happened to be closest to him, without caring who had actually done the work.
That was why so many people both feared him and longed to serve by his side.
Lying would be too risky, so the servant had no choice but to cast a discreet glare at Morse before reluctantly answering, “It was the new slave, Morse.”
It had been brought back along with the Fist Rabbit.
The servant made sure to emphasize the word “slave.”
It was well known that this young master despised slaves—who were considered even lower than commoners.
In this estate, all the servants with positions of responsibility were of commoner blood. Slaves were only assigned the hardest, most thankless tasks.
Only those unfortunate enough to be personally singled out by the young master for torment would be kept by his side for any length of time.
Morse, however, paid no mind to the servant’s provocation or scheming.
Instead, he narrowed his eyes in anticipation, curious to see how this pampered young master intended to “reward” him.
Tang Xi, realizing that his little attempt at mischief had failed, suddenly lost interest. He had no intention of actually rewarding his poop scooper.
But when he felt Morse’s overly eager gaze fixed on him, he fell into deep thought.
That look—it was hungry. The same kind of gaze he had when staring at a delicious piece of dried fish.
Tang Xi generously patted the dining table. “Do you want to eat?”
Morse’s eyes lingered on the young master’s delicate throat, where an irresistible temptation radiated.
Unconsciously, he nodded and replied in a husky voice, “Yes.”
But his gaze remained locked on Tang Xi’s throat.
Tang Xi nodded. “Then eat.” With that, he casually pushed a plate of meat toward him.
Morse accepted the plate, gracefully cutting the meat with a knife and fork before eating.
Throughout the entire process, his gaze never left Tang Xi, making the young master feel strangely uneasy—almost as if Morse were eating him rather than the food.
Fortunately, the illusion was broken when Grover returned.
The butler brought several letters with him. “Young master, these are today’s invitations.”
Tang Xi said, “Read them.”
Grover shot a glare at Morse, who had taken his usual spot, before leisurely opening the letters and reading them aloud one by one.
As a duke, Tang Xi could remain indifferent to letters from viscounts, barons, and even marquises.
But when Grover read out a letter from Evans, Tang Xi reacted.
A hint of excitement, inherited from the original character, flickered in his chest.
He maintained a calm expression as he recalled—
Evans was the Knight Commander of the Holy Church, a man of high status.
In the original character’s memories, Evans was a righteous yet somewhat rigid person. They had known each other since childhood due to family ties.
Their relationship could be considered quite good. After all, there were few people willing to tolerate the original character’s terrible temper, let alone befriend him.
Evans was the only one without any ulterior motives.
In the letter, the Knight Commander mentioned that he planned to visit in two days.
No one noticed Tang Xi’s momentary distraction—except for Morse.
Tang Xi imitated the original character’s tone and said, “I haven’t seen Evans in a long time. I wonder how he’s been.”
Grover bowed slightly. “The letter states that the Knight Commander is doing well.”
Morse listened to their conversation, his expression unchanged, but inwardly, he was seething with jealousy.
Hah. Evans.
How intimately he says the name.
1551: [Cough, cough!]
Tang Xi flinched at the sudden interruption. The excuse he had been about to make to refuse Evans’ visit was left unsaid.
[What are you doing?]
1551 trembled as it glanced fearfully at Morse and stammered, [N-Nothing.]
Seeing no further response, Grover naturally assumed the visit was accepted and put the letter away.
After all, the young master had never rejected the Knight Commander before.
Morse’s face darkened even further.
Author’s Note: Today is a “cat showing disdain.jpg” kind of day.