NOVEL NEXT Chapter 4: Holy Blood
The cold night breeze swept through Taylor's hair, carrying the scent of her blood to someone lurking nearby—a scent that carved a sly grin onto Ethan's face.
"You're overdoing it, old man," Ethan sneered, flashing a devilish smirk.
"Noah, let me be the one to fetch my bride this time."
"This scent… I like it. There's no mistaking it," Ethan murmured with satisfaction.
"Very well, sir," Noah responded with a slight bow, acknowledging his master's command.
Noah exited the car and walked into the café to execute the plan Ethan had crafted.
Meanwhile, Taylor stood alone on the dusty floor, her body stiff and tears threatening to spill. She wasn't frozen out of embarrassment or sadness but because her mind was consumed by the rent money she needed to pay tonight.
A week ago, she had promised her landlord she'd pay after her paycheck arrived, but now— "Ugh! Damn it!" she muttered in frustration.
"If that pedestrian hadn't bumped into me, I wouldn't have been late or gotten fired."
"What do I do now?"
Taylor brushed back her disheveled blond hair, trying to shake off the maddening thoughts that made her want to scream.
"Taylor, you have to be strong," she whispered to herself, attempting to bolster her resolve.
Her gaze unfocused, she paced back and forth, kicking at innocent pebbles on the ground, venting her irritation.
Unbeknownst to her, Ethan observed her every move with an eerie calmness. To him, the disheveled girl in a modest blouse and calf-length skirt looked radiant under the dim café lights.
She was a stark contrast to the elite women he usually encountered. Yet her simplicity, her humanity, made her shine in his predatory eyes.
"What's my next move?" Taylor mumbled, her voice tinged with desperation as she nibbled on her fingernails.
Suddenly, she collided with someone—a man she instantly recognized as the one who had caused her to lose her job earlier that day.
"Thud!"
"Crash!"
The coffee Noah had been holding spilled onto the ground, steaming against the cold night air.
"I—I'm sorry!" Taylor stammered instinctively, her eyes darting up to the man before her.
Her gaze froze as she scrutinized his face. The neatly dressed man before her seemed oddly familiar.
"You're… the man from earlier?" she asked hesitantly, pointing a finger at him in disbelief.
Noah remained silent, his calm demeanor unshaken. He merely offered a polite bow, treating Taylor as though she were a noblewoman.
"That's right! I got fired, and it's all your fault!" she blurted out, her voice escalating with frustration.
"You bumped into me, got mud all over my clothes, and made me late for work! So..."
Taylor paused, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Despite her growing anger, she recalled her foster mother's teachings: always respect your elders.
Noah remained unruffled, his hands clasped behind his back as he patiently awaited her tirade's conclusion.
"I want compensation!" Taylor declared boldly, her voice tinged with equal parts bravery and desperation.
Noah's eyes flicked toward Ethan, who was still standing in the shadows, observing the scene with a predatory smile. Subtly, Noah signaled to his master, who gave a slight nod in return.
"Can you cook?" Noah inquired with a calm yet authoritative tone, brushing the coffee from his coat.
"Huh? Cooking?" Taylor repeated, her curiosity piqued.
"What's this about cooking? Is this some kind of trap?" Taylor thought, her suspicion rising. She eyed Noah warily, her mind racing with dark possibilities.
"Could he be a human trafficker? Or worse—a black-market organ dealer?"
"How does 3,000 euros sound?" Noah offered, his voice steady, betraying no emotion.
Taylor's jaw dropped. "Wh—what? Three thousand euros?"
Noah nodded, confirming her disbelief.
"Dear ghost…" Taylor whispered in shock, her knees nearly giving out.
"You'll receive a monthly payment of 3,000 euros for your services," Noah elaborated.
"Huh?"
Taylor froze, her thoughts spinning out of control. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she spun around and started celebrating, oblivious to the looming presence of Ethan.
"I'll be rich!" she squealed to herself, counting on her fingers.
"I can visit the orphanage with that money. I could buy clothes. Wait, if it's 3,000 a month, that's 36,000 a year! And if it's for life… Ahhh, I'm too excited to calculate!"
Ethan chuckled softly, amused by her antics.
"Money won't make you rich, little girl," he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement.
Taylor eventually turned back to Noah, her excitement replaced with a facade of confidence. "Fine. I've decided. I can cook," she declared.
"Very well," Ethan interrupted, stepping into the light. His voice was a mix of command and amusement.
Taylor turned to face him, her body stiffening as a cold, predatory aura surrounded her.
"Who… is this man?" she thought, trembling as Ethan stepped closer.
The air around him seemed to freeze, and his eyes glowed with a predatory hunger.
"You'll move into my home tonight," Ethan stated, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Taylor couldn't muster a response. She stood frozen as Ethan leaned closer, his warm breath grazing her neck.
Finally, he straightened, giving Noah a subtle signal before walking away.
"Th—this man…" Taylor stammered, collapsing into Noah's arms.
"That, Miss Taylor, is Lord Ethan," Noah said with a calm smile.
"Ethan…?" Taylor's eyes widened. The name was legendary—synonymous with wealth and immortality.
"No way…"