Moving further, through the damp, dark alley, a decrepit sign finally emerged, hanging precariously between two decaying buildings. Rusted chains swayed, the wooden board was gnawed by termites, and the faded lettering was barely legible, only a few precise characters remaining.
"The Rat House Inn." True to its name, this place reeked of the lowest slums in Hollowrest's stratified society.
John and Mira both looked up at the sign. Neither spoke, but both understood—this would be their lodging for the night. Though unwanted, there was no better option.
The old wooden door creaked open, the hinges wailing like the lament of those who had passed through this place before. Inside lay a small, dust-laden lobby, with sunken flagstones and walls mottled with damp, moldy patches. Not a soul was in sight.
There was no reception desk. No welcoming voices. Just an old, silent, dilapidated space.
Jack stopped, turning to speak softly to John and Mira:
"To avoid detection… we'll stay here. It's run-down, but quite safe. I used to come to this place."
He spoke decisively, but his eyes softened slightly.
In Jack's mind, a dark memory drifted back. When he was Jack the Butcher, he had brought human girls to this very place. Victims without blood marks, without identities, no one to search for them… He had drunk their blood, then killed them, never once being questioned.
The Rat House had been an ideal "black spot" for illegal activities, where the dregs of society turned a blind eye, and Vampires were free to treat human lives as trash.
Jack clenched his hand, gritting his teeth. The madness of that past day pressed down on his chest. But now, he was no longer that monster. He wasn't allowed to go back.
Suddenly—
"Welcome to Rat House! Welcome, esteemed guests… I am Grace, pleased to serve you!"
A female voice rang out from deeper within. A middle-aged woman, around 40, rushed out, her hair disheveled, her clothes stained with smoke and cheap soap. She offered a tired but polite smile, bowing to the group.
Mira's eyes widened. A human woman, working in the heart of a Vampire inn? Her gaze seemed to pierce through Grace, hundreds of questions surging in her mind:
Who was she? A slave? Voluntary? What was her relationship with the Vampires here? How had she managed to survive until now?
Mira didn't speak, but her eyes said it all.
A raspy voice suddenly cut through her thoughts.
"Grace! I told you… Go slowly! Wait for me!"
From behind her emerged a gaunt old woman, perhaps nearing 90. But she wasn't human. She was a Vampire.
Her appearance was decrepit, with tangled gray hair and a slow gait, as if every joint had rusted. Perhaps when she was transformed, she was already too old… so her Vampire body hadn't rejuvenated, only retaining her end-of-life appearance.
She leaned against the doorframe, her deep red eyes narrowing as she looked at the three newcomers. There was no hostility in her gaze, but not exactly friendliness either.
Grace quickly came out from behind the counter, her smile bright but somewhat forced. The girl had a gentle beauty, with long black hair and warm brown eyes. As she walked, she spoke loudly:
"I came out quickly to greet the guests for you, Mother! Don't you see we have guests today?"
A moment of silence enveloped the room.
The old Vampire woman cast a dark gaze at Grace, her voice cutting through the brief warmth with a chilling tone:
"Grace, how many more times do I have to tell you… I am not your mother. Hurry up, prepare the rooms. Let me handle the guests."
The air solidified for a moment. Jack and John both frowned, and Mira flinched slightly. The address was too strange between a human and a Vampire.
Mira stepped forward, her eyes still filled with bewilderment:
"She… is your mother? A Vampire is a mother to a human? How is that possible?"
Jack made to stop Mira, and John also shot her a glance as if to say, "don't ask that." But the old Vampire woman simply waved her hand, her husky voice speaking with a casual air:
"It's fine. I'm used to it. Many who come here are as curious as you."
She moved slowly towards the chair behind the reception counter, sat down, and gazed up at the dim ceiling as if recalling something distant:
"I am actually… not Grace's mother, at least not anymore. When I was human, yes, I was once her mother. But after becoming a Vampire, I lost all my memories, and my old feelings weren't intact. To me now, Grace is more like a companion… than a daughter."
Mira subtly frowned, but a flicker of sympathy appeared in her eyes. She continued to ask:
"So… Grace knew you were a Vampire but still chose to stay? Still considers you her mother?"
Jack and John remained silent behind her, listening intently to the conversation. This story… was very strange. As if it was lifting a veil from a buried memory.
The old Vampire woman sighed, a deep breath, then looked towards the stairs as if searching for a familiar voice:
"Yes… It's been 10 years already. That girl… she chose to stay with me. The story between Grace and me is a long one. Perhaps if you want to understand, you should ask her yourself."
She stood up, took an old ledger and quill from the wooden counter, her voice returning to its usual rhythm, as if that moment of recollection had never happened:
"Well, talk later. For now, how long do you three plan to stay? How many rooms?"
Just then, a clear voice called down from upstairs:
"Mother! The rooms are ready!"
The Vampire woman looked up, her eyes reflecting a complex emotion—weariness mixed with tenderness, and a choked helplessness. She sighed softly, offering no reply, merely turning to record in the ledger.
And Mira, she stood there, her eyes still on that old woman—a Vampire… no longer a mother, nor entirely human.
Jack stepped up to the counter, his voice firm and without hesitation:
"I have three people. One Vampire, two slaves. I want two rooms. We will pay upon checkout."
The old Vampire woman behind the counter froze. Her cloudy eyes beneath tangled lashes narrowed slightly, then swept over the three from head to toe.
Before her stood a noble Vampire in a luxurious suit—straight-backed, cold, exuding an aura not easily challenged. Behind him were two filthy "slaves," one old, one young. But her gaze didn't stop at appearances.
"A noble…" she murmured. "Why would you want to stay in a rundown place like the Rat House?"
Jack didn't need to think. He glanced subtly at Mira and John, then subtly jutted his chin.
"You know… I'm tired of bottled blood."
A light reply, but with enough underlying meaning to conceal everything.
The old Vampire woman nodded as if she understood. "Very well. Just handle everything cleanly. As long as you don't leave us any trouble. Otherwise, no problem."
She turned, opened a cabinet, and pulled out two old, rusty black metal keys, placing them on the wooden counter before them.
"Here are the keys. Two rooms, second floor."
Jack nodded, his hand reaching out to take them but pausing, his gaze remaining calm. He rested his elbow on the edge of the counter, leaning slightly.
"Before we go up, I want to ask something…" His voice deepened, full of inquiry. "I want to know… where the Black Market is operating now."
The air halted for a breath.
The old Vampire woman didn't react immediately. But then, from a drawer beneath the counter, she pulled out an old business card. It was made of stiff, burnt-brown parchment, with blood-red edges. There was no address, only a single, strange circular symbol in the center.
"Here. His business card. Find him, and you'll find the black market."
Jack was about to reach for it when she suddenly pulled back, her eyes chilling.
"But… you want to drink blood and kill illegally, and you're also asking about the Black Market…" She narrowed her eyes, her voice hardening. "Are you… truly a noble?"
The air in the room suddenly thickened as if filled with ash.
"Furthermore… that brown-haired girl's demeanor isn't quite like a slave. And you…" Her gaze shifted to Jack. "Don't seem like a master."
John subtly leaned in, his hand lightly gripping the edge of his cloak. Mira bit her lip, her eyes clearly shifting into a defensive state.
From the moment they stepped into the alley, until they entered the Rat House, all three of them… had forgotten to maintain their distance.
The noble facade was beginning to crack.
The old Vampire woman maintained her scrutinizing gaze, but her voice returned to its calm tone, as if what had just happened was merely a test of their reaction.
"But I don't care either way." She said, slowly and clearly. "As long as… you pay me in full before you leave."
Her voice dropped, low and sharp like a cold cut. A nonchalant smile spread across her wrinkled face, revealing sharp fangs with dried blood hidden at the corners of her mouth.
"For what I provide—shelter, information, and keeping your actions secret—is… 500 Blood Tokens a reasonable price?"
Without a hint of concealment, she clearly revealed her true nature: still a Vampire, still prioritizing blood and power above all else. Morality? Empathy? Those things didn't exist in the depths of Hollowrest.
Jack exhaled. Neither heavy nor light. Just the breath of someone too accustomed to this kind of transaction.
"Hmph… alright. 500 Blood Tokens." He nodded, his voice neither high nor low. "I'll pay in full… upon checkout. That's settled."
Without waiting for a response, he reached for the two keys on the counter, along with the mysterious business card. Everything was taken into his hand swiftly, decisively.
Jack turned, not looking back, then subtly tilted his head, speaking with a slight hint of sarcasm:
"And now… I need to rest. Let's go, my two slaves."
Without needing further instruction, Mira and John hastily followed, both returning to their roles as if they had never shown a flaw. Jack's posture maintained its cold composure, though he knew full well: they were in debt, and every passing second was a step closer to danger.
From behind them, the old woman simply called out softly, a lingering reminder:
"I am Ly Ly. Call me… or Grace, if you need anything."
Jack didn't turn back, only tilted his head slightly, half acknowledging, half concluding the conversation:
"Lucien."