My Three Beautiful Vampire Wives can hear my Inner Thoughts-Chapter 97: Familiar faces

Cain realized he really could not move.

The moment he tried to step forward, his body refused him, as if invisible chains had wrapped around his limbs and tightened without mercy.

His breath caught in his throat, and a cold realization crept up his spine.

Damn it... don’t tell me she is here too.

His jaw clenched.

If she is here, then that explains everything.

The triangle blood pact of the three sisters.

A cruel and clever design.

If one or even two of the sisters were absent, the pact weakened. He could slip through its hold, travel to other realms, and cross planes without resistance. But when all three stood within the same territory, their blood resonated as one, forming a perfect seal. A prison disguised as family.

It meant no matter what he did, no matter how much blood power he forced through his veins, he would not be able to leave.

"This is a problem," he muttered under his breath.

A huge problem.

His eyes darkened.

I have to hurry and take this lowly family to another isolated plane. Somewhere beyond the reach of this nightmare realm. Somewhere they can be safe.

His fingers trembled faintly before he steadied them.

Calm down.

He drew in a slow breath and pulled his blood magic inward instead of outward. Instead of trying to force himself forward, he bent space behind him, pressing against the world like a tide reversing direction. A deep red glow flickered under his skin. The pressure in his chest became unbearable, as though a mountain was pressing down on him.

Then—

He vanished.

Not forward.

Far back.

The ground beneath him cracked as he reappeared dozens of meters away, hidden by twisted trees and thick shadows.

The invisible chains loosened.

He staggered slightly, then straightened.

"I can move."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

He would be delayed. Yes. The pact would slow him, but it would not stop him entirely. It’s gonna be fine as long as he asks one of the three sisters to come with him. If one left, the triangle would break.

Simple.

He dusted off his sleeves and prepared to go back when the air behind him grew heavy.

A strange, familiar scent.

Blood.

Old blood. Noble blood.

He turned slowly.

A carriage stood there as if it had risen from the mist itself.

It was large and imposing, crafted from black wood that gleamed like polished obsidian. Silver carvings lined its edges, delicate patterns of bats, thorns, and crescent moons etched into the frame.

The wheels were reinforced with dark metal that looked like it had tasted war. Crimson velvet curtains hung from the small windows, thick and heavy, hiding the interior from wandering eyes.

The carriage did not look human.

It looked bloody.

And the ones pulling it were not horses.

Four orcs stood in place, towering and muscular, their skin grayish green, their eyes glowing a dull red. Thick veins pulsed along their necks, and iron collars wrapped around their throats. Blood servants. Orc race.

Their breaths came out as hot white mist in the cold air.

The coachman sat above them, holding leather reins in one hand and a long whip in the other. He wore a dark coat and a wide brimmed hat that shadowed his face.

Cain’s eyes narrowed.

He knew this carriage and this man.

The coachman leaned forward slightly, squinting at him.

"...Is it you, Cain?"

Cain froze.

The voice was older now. Rougher.

"It’s been four years," the coachman continued, his tone rising with surprise. "Four years since I last saw you."

Before Cain could answer, a soft voice drifted from inside the carriage.

"...Is it Cain?"

The coachman straightened. "Yes, it’s Cain haha."

There was a warmth in his voice that did not fit the cold surroundings.

"Stop the carriage," the voice inside said calmly.

The orcs grunted as the reins tightened. The carriage rolled forward a few more feet before coming to a smooth halt beside Cain.

The small window opened.

A woman leaned slightly toward the opening.

"Cain," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "What are you doing here?"

He stared at her.

He did not know what to say.

Before he could gather his thoughts, another figure leaned in from behind the woman.

An attendant, dressed neatly in dark attire, her expression full of concern.

"Are you bullied again?" she asked without hesitation.

Cain blinked.

"If Madam Faith sees you like this," the attendant continued, already frowning, "she will absolutely start another fight with your sisters. She will not tolerate it. You know that."

The name struck him harder than any blade.

Faith.

"Come inside," the attendant urged softly. "Madam has already gone ahead. We must hurry."

Cain’s body went rigid.

Faith.

The name alone pulled memories from the depths of his heart.

Long black hair that fell straight down her back like a waterfall of ink.

Pale skin that glowed under moonlight.

Eyes that held quiet strength.

In his memories, he always saw her back first. Standing before him. Shielding him.

She was the only one among the three sisters who treated him like a husband.

He remembered how furious she would become whenever Cornelia reprimanded him. How her voice would grow sharp and cold when she discovered he had been treated unfairly. She never shouted mindlessly. She did not need to. Her anger carried weight. It made even nobles lower their heads.

He remembered the times when the Moonshade family failed to give him allowance, when they claimed he was useless, when they mocked his bloodline. Faith would quietly call him to her chambers and press a pouch of coins into his hand.

"Do not lower your head," she would say. "You are my husband."

He had not understood it then.

He had been foolish. Angry. Resentful.

He thought she was only doing it out of obligation.

But she had never once looked down on him.

Never once.

Cain’s throat tightened.

The attendant’s voice pulled him back.

"Let’s go, Cain."

He looked at the carriage again.

After a long pause, he nodded.

He stepped inside.

The attendant turned toward the coachman. "Sir Albert."

Albert grinned faintly and flicked the reins. The whip cracked in the air, and the orcs began moving once more, their heavy footsteps steady and powerful.

Inside, the carriage was dimly lit by a small crimson lamp fixed to the wall. The seats were cushioned with dark velvet. The air smelled faintly of roses and iron.

The attendant closed the door and immediately turned to him.

"Raise your arms."

Cain blinked. "What?"

"Raise them."

He obeyed.

She stepped closer without hesitation and began checking him.

Her fingers were careful but firm as she examined his sleeves, his wrists, the fabric of his coat. She knelt slightly to check his legs, brushing dirt off his trousers. She even reached to inspect the inside of his collar.

"Did they hit you?" she asked.

"No."

"Are you hiding anything?"

"No."

She clicked her tongue softly, "stubborn," clearly not convinced. She lifted his hand and examined his knuckles.

"Your skin is rough here. You were fighting."

Cain smiled faintly. "It’s nothing."

She sighed, then carefully rolled up his sleeve to inspect his forearm. Her expression softened when she saw only minor bruises.

"Fortunately, it’s only small injuries," she murmured.

As she worked, Cain found himself staring at her.

In his past life, she had been the same.

Always by Faith’s side.

Always taking care of him when Faith was busy.

She would secretly bring him warm tea. She would scold him gently for not eating properly. She would fix his clothes before gatherings so others would not look down on him.

He remembered the smoke rising from the Moonshade estate.

He remembered opening coffins one by one.

Faith.

This attendant.

The blood servants.

The blood slaves who remained loyal to Faith until the end.

He had searched for those who defiled their bodies. He had hunted enemies across realms. He had nearly died countless times chasing revenge.

And now—

They were alive.

Right here.

The attendant smoothed his collar and adjusted his coat.

"Let us fix your appearance properly this time," she said softly. "We must be presentable when we meet Madam. If she sees you looking miserable, she will make a scene."

Cain nodded quietly.

She brushed dirt from his shoulders and pulled a small comb from her sleeve. She move closer and began fixing his hair, her movements gentle and practiced.

"You should fight back sometimes," she muttered as she worked. "Madam is rarely here. She is always out handling matters. We do not come back often. When we are gone, you must protect yourself."

Cain listened silently.

"Cain," she said, her voice softer now, "you must learn to fight back, okay?"

For the first time in a long while, he nodded like a child being lectured.

"I will," he said.

She paused and looked at him.

"You promise?"

He smiled faintly.

In his mind, he saw blood soaked battlefields. He saw himself standing alone against armies. He saw the faces of those who laughed when the Moonshade family burned.

I fought back.

I fought until my body broke.

I fought until the sky cracked.

He looked at her.

"I promise."

She seemed relieved.

"Good," she whispered.

The carriage continued rolling forward, the steady rhythm of the wheels filling the silence.

Cain leaned back slightly.

They are alive.

Albert is alive.

She is alive.

Faith is alive.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment.

This time... I will not let you die.

The attendant finished adjusting his coat and stepped back to examine him.

"Let me fix your hair properly," she said, leaning slightly to reach him better.

Her fingers combed through his dark strands carefully, smoothing them back, adjusting the front, making sure not a single lock fell out of place.

She stepped back again.

Her eyes widened.

"Cain..."

Her voice trembled slightly.

"Your face."