Reincarnated as the Vampire Princess' Familiar-Chapter 13 - 12 - Dulcar’s cruelty

Despite the intervention of that mysterious, captivating girl with blue eyes and brown hair, nothing has changed.

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I sit at a table on the far edge of the vast cafeteria, which has six seats—four of them empty, while the remaining two are occupied by me and Gerard. He sits across from me, both of us in the center seats, as I "enjoy" a plate of bland, unseasoned pasta—the same meal as yesterday. It doesn't surprise me that vampires can't even cook a simple dish properly, nor do they care to offer us anything better. With their incredible magic, they could prepare lavish banquets, but I assume such luxuries are reserved for those in the upper dormitories.

«Lyon, forget about Luke and the others...» murmurs Gerard, noticing my tense expression. «The daily torment we endure, the way we're forced to fight like beasts—it brings out the worst in us. In a war among the weak, unable to strike back at their real oppressors, the most fragile and exasperated familiars lash out at anyone. Unfortunately, this time, their frustration has fallen on you...»

This isn't the first time I've been in a situation like this. Back when I was the captain and star player of my city's soccer team, every loss was blamed entirely on me—despite there being eleven of us on the field. Neither the coach, my teammates' parents, nor my classmates ever offered solutions. It was always because I was "special," more talented than the rest—just like here. But back then, I never cared. I want to see what they'll do when I'm gone, I kept telling myself. I focused only on giving my best, ignoring their words. So why can't I do the same now? Why do Luke's words cut so deep?

«Can I sit here?» a female voice asks from behind me.

«Of course, Ginevra. As you can see, there's no lack of empty seats,» Gerard replies in a friendly tone.

I turn around and see her—the girl with blue eyes and long, straight brown hair—standing behind me, holding her plate of pasta with a gentle smile.

At Gerard's approval, Ginevra takes the seat to my right. I instinctively avert my gaze. She's so... beautiful. A simple, natural beauty, untouched by makeup or cosmetics—things forbidden to familiars, even the high-ranking ones. Ayra mentioned it during training: no familiar can risk outshining a vampire. Yes, vampire women—or at least most—are incredibly vain, and Ayra is no exception. Between her and Sasha, it's practically a contest. Yet, Ginevra's beauty is different—rare, unattainable, impossible to hide, even with the scars marking her face, likely left by her master or some jealous vampire. And despite everything, her stunning blue eyes aren't empty; they glow with quiet hope.

«We met not long ago, remember?» she asks. «My name is Ginevra Dulcar. And you... well, who doesn't know you by now? Lyon Valakys, the legendary predestined familiar.»

«If this is what it means, I'd rather not be...» I mutter, my expression somber. «Dulcar...» I repeat.

«Yes, the same house as that hothead Luke. My mistress, Countess Amelia Dulcar, and Luke's master, Count Markus Dulcar, are husband and wife but also... brother and sister,» she says, her tone filled with disgust.

«Brother and sister?» I echo, just as repulsed.

«In vampire society, marrying and procreating among blood relatives is a common practice to preserve blood purity,» Gerard explains. «My mistress, Levreshka Valakys, is only thirteen, yet she's already betrothed to a blood cousin—at least, that's what I've gathered. She often vents her personal problems to me, which wouldn't be so bad... if those venting sessions didn't come with a generous dose of lashes...»

Marrying blood relatives, and on top of that, arranged marriages? It's like being thrown back into the Middle Ages...

«Luke doesn't hate you, trust me,» Ginevra says firmly. «If you had endured the same treatment the Dulcar family inflicts on their familiars, you wouldn't blame him. As ruthless as the Valakys are, they're almost merciful compared to House Dulcar.»

With a swift motion, Ginevra unbuttons the upper part of her tunic, pulling it open just enough to reveal the start of her chest—small but firm, accentuated by her slightly tanned skin. For a brief moment, my eyes betray me, distracted from what she truly means to show me. A 'D' carved into her flesh, identical to Luke's.

«And this is nothing compared to the rest of my body...» she murmurs, her voice tinged with melancholy and resignation as she buttons her tunic back up. «That's why I ask you not to hate him. Luke is a good guy, truly. I've known him for almost ten years—long before we became the Dulcars' familiars—and he wasn't like this. They made him this way. Please, I beg you, forgive him...» she pleads, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

«I'm afraid that's not up to me,» I reply flatly. After all, he was the one who challenged me and turned the other familiars against me. I can be patient, try to understand him, but my tolerance has its limits—I can't spend my time here being treated like garbage.

«I'll talk to him later too, don't worry. We share a room; I'm sure I can make him see reason,» she says with determination—a tone that, for some reason, gives me a sliver of hope.

Before I can respond, a sharp sound cuts through the air, like a siren, echoing throughout the dormitory—the signal that it's time to return to our rooms.