Yandere Monster Evolution: My Blind Wife Will Become a Demonic Queen

Chapter 126: Vampire Lord Val

’I don’t know why she was unconscious. I had already woken up, and she was far stronger than me, so shouldn’t she have woken up before me?’

I subconsciously thought as I lifted Vera into my arms and turned around to face the others.

Then, I was going to say something. However, before I could begin, a heavy vibration rippled through the marble floorboards. It wasn’t a combat skill or a trap. It was the rhythmic, synchronized sound of thousands of footsteps moving outside the castle walls.

Creak~

The massive, gilded double doors at the far end of the hall began to slowly swing outward. The heavy wood groaned on its pristine hinges, and a flood of brilliant, unfiltered golden light poured into the room, completely overwhelming the dim glow of the chandeliers.

With the light came a sound that made my stomach drop into a frozen pit.

Cheering. Laughter. The clinking of crystal glasses. The elegant, swelling melody of a massive orchestra playing a triumphant grand march.

We slowly walked toward the opening, our boots clicking softly against the marble. Vera stayed right by my side, but even in her sleep, she had managed to find my hand and gripped it softly.

We stepped through the threshold, out onto a massive, sweeping marble balcony that overlooked the entire central avenue of the city.

And the sight was enough to make anyone’s brain completely short-circuit.

The ruined, gothic wasteland was gone. The broken spires that reached toward the sky like skeletal fingers were completely whole, magnificent towers of dark stone and polished white marble that stretched as far as the eye could see. The streets weren’t paved with cracked cobblestones and slick with crimson condensation; they were clean, wide boulevards lined with burning golden lanterns and grand tapestries depicting the crests of the different Lineages of the Vampire Race.

The river. The sluggish, syrup-like river of dark red mana wasn’t a vein of death anymore. It was a beautiful, clear waterway that reflected the brilliant, golden sun hanging high in a perfectly blue sky. There was no bloated red moon. There were no bruised clouds. It was a thriving, magnificent fantasy empire at the absolute peak of its civilization.

And the people.

Thousands of them were packed into the central courtyard below the balcony. Nobles dressed in flowing robes of deep silk and intricate velvet, high-ranking knights clad in shining silver armor that caught the sunlight, and hundreds of servants moving through the crowds with silver trays.

They looked human. Perfectly, beautifully human—except for the pale, translucent quality of their skin, the glowing ruby hue of their eyes, and the faint, elegant fangs that peeked past their lips whenever they laughed.

The kingdom was alive.

"They..." Hana whispered, her staff slipping from her hand and clattering loudly against the balcony railing. She looked horrified, her face entirely devoid of color as she stared at the massive crowd below. "They’re... they’re actually alive. This isn’t a dungeon anymore. It’s a city."

Beside her, Carmilla froze.

The quiet girl who had spent the entire journey hugging her sword close to her chest like a fragile doll didn’t look empty anymore. Her dull crimson eyes were wide, trembling with an intensity that looked almost painful. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and her entire frame was shaking so violently that the dark leather of her scabbard was clicking against her armor.

Because among the crowded plaza below, standing right at the front of a grand procession near the palace gates, was a specific group of nobles dressed in deep crimson robes.

She saw them.

She saw her family. Her mother, her aunts, her cousins... and the tall, noble man with long black hair who stood at the center of the coven, laughing as he raised a silver chalice toward the crowd.

"..." Carmilla couldn’t even form a word. A low, broken sound escaped her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated grief and shock that cut through the cheerful music of the plaza.

Carmilla’s hands started shaking so hard that the dark blade she held began to buzz with faint, erratic sparks of red lightning. The arcs hissed against the marble railing, leaving tiny black scorch marks behind.

"My family..." Carmilla whispered, her voice cracking as a single tear escaped her eye, tracing a clean path down her dirt-stained cheek. "They’re... they’re right there."

Everyone looked at me. Jisu, Grog, and Seok turned their faces toward my mask, their eyes desperate for answers, for a plan, for anything that could explain the nightmare they had just stepped into.

"Brian," Jisu whispered, her voice trembling. "What exactly did we enter? Is this an illusion? Are we supposed to kill them all?"

I looked down at the vibrant, cheerful plaza, and a deep, heavy feeling of dread settled into my chest.

"We entered the day before the Vampire Kingdom died," I answered quietly.

Before anyone could ask what I meant, the cheerful music in the plaza below suddenly came to a grinding halt. The laughter died out, the clinking of glasses stopped, and a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the entire city.

A massive pressure descended from the high tower above the balcony.

It wasn’t a standard mana signature. It was an ancient, absolute weight that felt like an iron curtain dropping over our shoulders. The air temperature plummeted in an instant, our breath turning into white plumes of mist in the cold air.

Even Black’s expression changed. His dark mask turned upward, his knees buckling a fraction of an inch as his own gravity field instinctively tried to activate to counter the pressure, only to be completely suppressed by the sheer density of the aura above us.

Step. Step. Step.

A lone figure walked down the grand marble staircase that led from the high tower onto our balcony.

He was a man who looked to be in his late thirties, with long, midnight-black hair that cascaded over his shoulders like silk. His eyes weren’t ruby-red like the other nobles below; they were a brilliant, piercing gold that seemed to glow with an internal fire. He wore a set of heavy royal armor crafted from dark steel and lined with golden threads, a massive crimson cloak fluttering silently behind him.

The Vampire King.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[Entity Detected]

[Name: Vampire King Val - Lord of the Crimson Lineage]

[Danger Rating: ???]

The bright blue notification popped up in my vision, but the danger rating didn’t have a letter. It didn’t have a minus or a plus. It was just three question marks.

Everyone became incredibly tense. Grog reached for his broadsword, his muscles locking up in pure survival instinct, while Seok lowered the tip of his blue spear toward the stone, his breath catching in his throat.

Except Carmilla.

She didn’t drop into a guard stance. She didn’t reach for her hilt. She simply stood there, her dark hair falling over her pale cheeks as she stared at the golden-eyed king with an intensity that looked like it could break her entire soul apart.

"Father..." Carmilla gasped out, the word barely a whisper, yet it echoed with terrifying clarity in the silent balcony.

The Vampire King stopped.

His heavy steel boots paused just three paces away from us. His golden eyes swept across our bizarre group—the paper bag masks, the modern hunter armor, the glowing magical staffs—but his gaze didn’t linger on any of us.

His eyes locked onto Carmilla.

The cold, absolute pressure radiating from his body suddenly wavered, the suffocating weight lifting from our shoulders as his golden pupils dilated into sharp, trembling slits. He looked at her tattered clothes, her dirt-stained face, and the dark blade she held close to her chest.

"...Carmilla?" Val spoke, his deep, resonant voice cracking with an emotion that didn’t belong to a monster.

The entire hall, the balcony, and the plaza below became even more silent.

The Vampire King took a slow step forward. Then another.

He completely ignored Black, he completely ignored me, and he didn’t even look at Vera in my hands. He walked straight toward the quiet girl, his heavy royal armor clinking softly with every movement.

But instead of drawing a weapon—instead of unleashing a tidal wave of crimson mana to crush the strange intruders who had broken into his palace—he slowly raised his left hand. His pale, elegant fingers were trembling as he reached outward, his hand hovering over Carmilla’s cheek before gently pressing against her skin.

"You survived...?" Val whispered, his golden eyes filled with a chaotic mixture of profound relief and absolute bewilderment. "How...? The scouts said your carriage was ambushed near the Northern Borders by the Dragons. They said the entire escort was slaughtered."

Carmilla couldn’t answer. Her lips moved, but no sound came out for several seconds. She stared at the physical warmth of his hand, at the solid, real texture of his skin.

"You..." Carmilla finally choked out, her voice a broken thread of grief. "You are supposed to be dead."