My Three Beautiful Vampire Wives can hear my Inner Thoughts-Chapter 84: Predatory Overgod

The killing intent did not fade. It grew heavier, thicker, like the air before a storm that refused to break.

Cain did not even need to turn his head to know who stood behind him. The moment that sharp, familiar hostility pierced through the hall, his lips curved ever so slightly. It was a scent he had once known too well, a taste that had lingered on his humiliation for years.

Ah, so it was you. If you hadn’t shown a bit of your pathetic killing intent, I wouldn’t have remembered you. It’s nice, really—I’ve forgotten you for so long, but now you’re here.

Memories surfaced, uninvited yet clear as fresh blood.

In his previous life, that man had stood tall in the courtyard of the Moonshade estate, hands clasped behind his back as though he owned the place. His name had never mattered to Cain, only his actions had.

Every month, when Cain’s allowance was distributed, the man would appear like a shadow and "borrow" it with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"You are the husband of our young mistresses," he had once said lightly, voice coated in false courtesy. "It would be improper for you to carry coin. Let me manage it for you. For your safety."

Cain had known what that meant. It meant he would not see a single copper.

Back then, Cain had been powerless. He had clenched his fists until his nails cut into his palms, swallowing down anger that tasted like iron. He had tried to report it to an elder of the Moonshade family.

He still remembered standing in that grand hall, staring up at a towering figure seated on a throne carved from black stone.

"Elder," Cain had said carefully, forcing steadiness into his voice. "My allowance has been taken without permission. I request justice."

The elder had not even looked at him properly. His gaze had slid past Cain as though he were a stain on the floor.

"You are merely a political puppet husband," the elder replied lazily. "Do not trouble us with petty matters. Focus on not embarrassing the Moonshade name."

Petty matters.

Cain had walked out that day feeling as though the world had confirmed what he already suspected. He was nothing. Not a son. Not a warrior. Not even a true member of the family.

Just a puppet husband tied to three sisters whose talents eclipsed him like moons blotting out a dying star.

Cornelia.

Ivira.

And their youngest sister.

He had been an ornament placed beside them for convenience.

Now, that same man who once took his allowance stood somewhere behind him, emitting killing intent so sharp it almost scraped against Cain’s back. The irony nearly made him laugh aloud.

You could take my coins when I was weak, Cain thought coolly. Now you dare point your weak ass killing intent at me? How wonderful! How wonderful! I, Overgod, Am Overjoyed!

Next, another surge of killing intent flared from the left.

Cain’s eyes darkened.

Her.

The woman with trembling shoulders and tearful eyes. He remembered her face vividly, the way she had collapsed in the courtyard and cried out, "He assaulted me!"

He had not even touched her.

But the accusation alone had been enough.

Cain remembered the guards grabbing him before he could speak. He remembered the cold chains biting into his wrists. He remembered being dragged into the underground chambers where sunlight never reached.

"I didn’t do anything," he had said over and over.

No one had listened.

For months, he had been tortured under the pretense of investigation. Whips soaked in holy water. Silver needles pressed into his veins. Interrogators asking the same questions until his throat bled from screaming.

"Confess."

"There is nothing to confess."

"Confess."

Even when he fainted, they revived him. Even when he begged, they mocked him.

And she?

She had stood at the entrance one day, watching quietly. Not a trace of guilt in her eyes. Only cold satisfaction.

That was the moment Cain had learned that in the Moonshade family, truth meant nothing without power.

Now her killing intent brushed against him like a blade testing his skin.

Cain’s heartbeat remained steady.

From further away, another presence flared.

Subtle at first, then thick and greedy.

Ah. That one.

The self-proclaimed "friend" who always hovered near the sisters. The one who claimed to protect them. The one who constantly challenged Cain to harmless sparring sessions that always ended with Cain bruised and humiliated.

"I was just worried about you," the man would say sweetly while pressing Cain to the ground. "You’re too weak. As their husband, you must improve."

If Cain ever protested, the man would lower his gaze and sigh.

"I’m only trying to help. Why are you so hostile?"

And the crowd would murmur. They would look at Cain as if he were ungrateful, petty, jealous.

Green tea.

That was what Cain had once called him in his heart. Sweet on the surface, bitter underneath.

That man had longed to replace him. Longed to stand beside the three sisters as their rightful partner. And since Cain had been weak, it had been easy to slowly poison the atmosphere around him, turning servants and guards cold, making each day heavier than the last.

Now the killing intent burned like oil on water. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

One by one, more presences flared.

Cain felt them all.

Every guard. Every distant relative. Even some of the younger vampires who once ignored him.

They were aligning.

The air in the hall thickened until even breathing felt heavy.

And Cain smiled.

Inside his mind, a melody began to form.

Soft at first, like a whisper carried by wind.

He began to sing.

"Oh crimson night, how sweet you taste," he murmured silently, his inner voice smooth and almost tender. "A soul once chained now meets its fate."

His eyes half-lidded as the killing intent pressed in from all sides.

"They called me weak, they called me small. They built their throne upon my fall."

The melody swelled, gaining strength.

"But blood remembers. Blood repays. The silent lamb ignites in a blaze."

He almost swayed where he stood, intoxicated by the hostility.

"Sing, sing, my broken heart. Soon we shall tear this cage apart."

His thoughts grew darker, richer.

"I cannot wait," he whispered in his mind, the words echoing like a vow. "I cannot wait to make you all turn into a blood pill."

His lips twitched.

"Yes... a blood pill. A blood pill. Do you know how beautiful that sounds?"

The killing intent intensified, as if reacting to something unseen.

"I cannot harm you now," he continued silently, almost pouting. "Not while the blood pact binds me to the Moonshade family."

His tone sharpened.

"But oh, I love this. I love this killing intent. The more you want me dead, the freer I become."

His thoughts turned feverish.

"Once I am free... once I am free... you will all become my nourishment. A blood pill for me. Your lives condensed into something useful. Something that helps me sleep peacefully."

He almost laughed aloud.

"Isn’t that wonderful? Your entire existence... just my sleeping aid."

Hahhahaha.

The laughter roared inside his skull, manic and bright.

He barely noticed when something collided with his chest.

Cornelia.

She had run to him.

Her slender form slammed into him with surprising force, arms wrapping around him as though shielding him from invisible arrows.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please... stop..."

The hall exploded with even stronger killing intent at the sight.

Cain felt it spike violently.

Yes.

Yes.

More.

He nearly forgot Cornelia pressed against him as ecstasy washed over his mind. The pressure, the hatred, the murderous desire directed at him. It felt like applause. Like confirmation that he had succeeded.

Inside his head, he breathed out slowly.

More killing intent. I love this.

Cornelia’s shoulders shook.

She could feel it.

Through the blood pact marriage that tied them together, something flowed between them. Not thoughts exactly, but emotions. Flashes of rage. Bitter delight. A hunger so deep it made her stomach twist.

He’s really going to kill everyone.

The realization crashed into her like icy water.

She tightened her grip on him.

"Cain," she whispered against his chest, her voice breaking. "Please... don’t..."

Her mind spiraled.

Even if she spoke, they would not stop. She knew her family. They revered her talent, yes.

They praised her bloodline. But if Cain’s bloodline truly was that low, they would see him as a stain.

As a risk to their future.

They would eliminate him for the sake of the Moonshade name.

They have no idea, she thought desperately. They have no idea this is his plan.

Inside her heart, she begged.

Please... please don’t kill us.

She did not know whether she was begging him or the ancestors.

Slowly, she lifted her face.

Cain looked down at her.

From the outside, he still appeared weak. Pale. Slightly embarrassed. A man crushed by shame.

But in his eyes—

There was a flash.

Red.

Bright.

Delighted.

It was not the look of a victim.

It was the look of a predator savoring the moment before the hunt.

Cornelia’s breath hitched.

"Cain..." she whispered again, but her voice sounded small.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them in the center of a storm.

Then Cain’s hand moved.

Gently.

Slowly.

He lifted his fingers and brushed them against her cheek.

Her tears were warm.

He wiped one away with a touch so soft it felt almost tender.

And the hall remained silent, suffocating, waiting.