Chapter 3

3.

As expected of a renowned and ancient noble family, the vampires threw an extravagant engagement ceremony.

Mysterious supernatural beings from all over came to witness the event, bearing priceless treasures. They truly gave the prince face.

Elara, dressed in a magnificent red gown, her cheeks flushed with excitement, walked out holding Alaric's hand to the anticipation of the crowd.

She had finally gotten the position she dreamed of, and her happiness was written all over her face.

When she saw me, she even gave a provocative tilt of her head and mouthed two words:

"Loser."

Yes, I was the loser.

But she was about to walk straight into hell. I wondered which of us was more pathetic.

Her smile didn't last long. Alaric pressed a goblet into her hand.

"Drink this," he said, "and our engagement will be sealed in the presence of the elders."

Elara eagerly took it, but as she brought it to her lips, the sharp, metallic scent hit her.

Her face paled in horror, and she instinctively dropped the goblet. "There's Sanctified Silver in this wine!"

Sanctified Silver is the bane of our witch magic. Even a master witch with a thousand years of practice couldn't withstand a single cup. It wouldn't kill you, but it would temporarily obliterate your magic and leave you bedridden for months, in a state worse than death.

In my last life, I faced the same test. But refusing never crossed my mind.

I knew my life was nothing compared to the honor of the entire vampire clan. If I embarrassed Alaric in front of everyone, our relationship would never be more than one of convenience.

So I forced myself to drink it down. I was dizzy and disoriented for the rest of the ceremony.

He didn't care how I felt. In his eyes, I was just a tool for repaying a debt and producing an heir. Who cares about the feelings of a tool?

But my sister clearly didn't understand the situation. She pouted and threw herself into Alaric's arms.

"I don't want to drink this!" she whined.

She didn't notice Alaric's face darkening. With so many guests watching, he managed to keep his patience.

"Elara, this is an ancient tradition of my people. Don't be childish in front of everyone."

Normally, a high and mighty vampire prince saying that would be a clear signal to back down.

But she acted as if she couldn't sense the danger, still refusing.

"I don't care about your stupid tradition! We witches hate silver. I never want to see it again!"

That one sentence enraged every vampire elder in the room.

For them, drinking a substance harmful to one's mate was a symbol of loyalty and conquest. Elara's words were a direct slap in their faces.

Sure enough, several vampire nobles began whispering among themselves, complaining that the new bride had no manners and questioning Alaric's judgment.

The murmurs reached Alaric's ears, and his patience finally snapped. His voice was laced with ice.

"I'll say it one more time. Drink it."

Elara froze, completely shocked that he would speak to her like that. She hastily grabbed the goblet and drank it all in one gulp.

But it was too late. The mood was already ruined.

After the ceremony, Alaric stormed off without giving her so much as a backward glance.

Elara stood there, bewildered. Just yesterday, they were so affectionate. How could things fall apart over a single glass of wine?

I smirked. She was so naive.

Nothing is more important to a vampire than their pride. She was a decorative bride, and she really thought she could sway the will of a prince.

And this was only the beginning. Her "good life" was just getting started.