Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 170: The Line

Days had passed, and Zethan had not returned. Rose sat quietly in the garden, sipping her tea as the morning breeze gently brushed against her skin. She missed him—she would be lying if she said she didn’t.

After that talk with Fredrick, even though things hadn’t remained the same, she was glad she told him the truth. She had shared everything—the conversations they had, the dreams they planned. It had all been real. But it seemed that fate had different plans, and perhaps they were never meant to be together after all.

She had told him as much, too. That maybe he was meant to meet someone else. And that seemed to be all he needed to hear. He didn’t take it too seriously. He simply said, "Thank you for telling me the truth."

Since then, the atmosphere between them had settled. It was no longer cold and distant, but warm and respectful. They respected each other. If Rose asked a question about the castle, and if he could answer it, he usually did. And if he couldn’t, he’d tell her gently that it wasn’t within his duty to say—that it was for someone else to reveal.

Through all of this, everything had been fine... or so she kept telling herself.

But the truth she refused to admit—was that she missed Zethan. Deeply.

Her dark hair flew to the side as she blew softly on her hot tea before taking a sip.

"Queen Roselina, would you like me to prepare your bath now, or should I wait a bit?" Clara, the maid, asked gently.

"That would be later" Rose spoke as the lady replied with a respectful bow.

Rose had blamed herself earlier when she realized she didn’t even know the name of the woman who had walked beside her. She had finally decided to ask, wanting to know more, even though the lady had once said her matters were of no importance to the Queen, who was Roselina, and that she was merely a maid.

"I also want to inform you that His Majesty will be arriving today," Clara added.

The moment those words left her lips, Rose froze. Her eyes widened, and her heart skipped a beat. Just the thought of him—of his presence—sent a wave of shivers down her spine. He was coming. She had no idea. In fact, she had least expected it. Today. Tonight.

She cleared her throat softly to steady herself.

"Please prepare my bath," she said quietly.

Clara bowed and silently left the room.

Rose carefully set the cup down on the plate with a soft clink.

Her body went still as a thought struck her sharply.

’Why the change of mind? Weren’t you the one who said you didn’t want a bath’

"I changed my mind... People change their minds, okay..." she muttered defensively.

Her eyes widened in horror as her hands flew to her mouth.

Had she just answered her thoughts—out loud?

She couldn’t believe it. Oh no... this is serious, she panicked inwardly. If someone had seen her just now, they might have mistaken her for a madwoman.

But at least the luxurious robe she wore might have saved her from complete disgrace.

She knew that if she had been wearing her village gown, there would’ve been no saving her reputation. The entire community would have gathered—no doubt—to contribute money for her treatment with the local physician. And if that failed, off to the village priest she’d go, for a round of fervent prayers and holy water baths.

Not long after the lady arrived.

"Queen Roselina, your bath is ready." Rose nodded as she stood. A soft smile played on her lips as she planned in her mind that once her husband returned, she would jump and kiss him as a welcome gift—she had missed him.

*

*

*

CRRKCK

The carriage jolted slightly as it passed over the rocky path.

"Your Majesty... you’ve been smiling for some time now. Is this the side effect of those flowers?" Lucas asked playfully, eyeing the small bunch in Zethan’s hand. The occasional, quiet smiles on his King’s lips hadn’t gone unnoticed.

"Shut up, Lucas," Zethan muttered. "Do you think it’s easy picking flowers myself for my wife? These are rare black and white flowers—very hard to find." He spoke proudly.

Lucas scratched the back of his head, still baffled. He had been shocked from the beginning—many shocks, in fact, from the King’s recent behavior. But this? This was something else.

The few days’ journey had been solely for Zethan to find those elusive black and white flowers. For his wife. The King—Zethan—who hardly ever embarked on long journeys himself, had not only gone but had also personally picked and guarded the bouquet like a precious treasure. And now he sat there, holding it tightly, smiling at it from time to time like it held the world.

It was... mind-blowing.

"Your Majesty, let me help you with that. You’ve been holding it for a while—aren’t your arms tired?"

Zethan frowned. "No, Lucas. If I give this to you, your bad character will infect it. I’ll hold it myself."

Lucas remained still. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? His mind tried to deny it, but it was too clear. Too loud.

This was the same lady the King had married out of boredom.

And now? He had gone miles for flowers. Rare flowers. Just to gift them to her.

Lucas’s lips twitched into a grin.

This King is already in love with his wife.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," he replied, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice. Up until now, he’d been too shocked to realize just how funny—and sweet—it all truly was.

"Do you think she’ll be asleep now?" Zethan asked, looking out the carriage window. The night wasn’t young anymore, but it hadn’t quite grown old either.

"I feel she’ll be waiting for you," Lucas said with a smirk.

Zethan nodded, lips curving slightly. "Who wouldn’t?"

Lucas had seen that coming a mile away.

The carriage finally came to a halt in front of the castle gates. One of the guards stepped forward to open them, and moments later, the carriage rolled again—this time stopping directly before the castle’s grand entrance.

Zethan stepped down swiftly. The impatience in his movements said it all. Lucas didn’t need to ask—he could see it.

The King really wanted to see his wife.

"Love is truly blind," Lucas murmured under his breath. "Who would’ve thought the cold King could have such a soft spot? No one... not even me."

A lady passing by noticed him talking to himself and gave him a curious look. Lucas responded with a slow, cheeky wink that made her look away in confusion.

Meanwhile, Zethan straightened his coat and slowed his pace. A small smirk formed on his lips. He couldn’t afford to seem rushed. No. He needed to act composed. Collected. Dignified.

But his eyes kept dropping to the rare black and white flowers in his hand—flowers he had gone miles to find. For her. For Rose.

His wife and queen.

He reached the grand doors and wrapped his fingers around the knob. Turning it slowly, he pushed the door open.

PLUP.

The flowers slipped from his hand and hit the floor.

Time stopped.

Zethan’s heart sank, breath caught in his throat.

His world shattered in a single glance.

There—on the bed—lay Rose, motionless.

A pool of blood surrounded her like a tragic halo.

The flowers scattered across the floor, their delicate petals crushed beneath the weight of silence.

Zethan stood frozen. He didn’t move—he couldn’t. His eyes locked on Rose’s still form, wide and vacant, yet lifeless. Something in him broke, something that could never be repaired. His eyes, once filled with determination and purpose, now looked hollow. Dead.

And then he moved.

In a blur of vampiric speed, he was at her side. He dropped to his knees, trembling hands reaching for hers. No breath. No heartbeat. Her skin was cold, her eyes shut as if in deep sleep—but her body was heavy with stillness.

She... she was gone.

Dead.

Zethan’s mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out. Just a breath, barely there.

Fredrick took a shaky step forward as he ran through the hallway, his voice quiet, broken.

"I’m sorry, Rose... but I couldn’t bear to see you with another man..."

His words died in his throat.

SHNNNK.

The sound of a blade slicing clean through flesh echoed like a scream in silence. Blood burst forth, splattering the polished floor.

PLUP.

Fredrick’s head hit the ground, rolling like a discarded stone on still water—except this stone didn’t bounce. It sank, directionless. Lifeless.

His headless body slumped next.

Zethan stood over it, blood soaking into the fabric of his sleeves, his sword still raised. His eyes were no longer calm, no longer human.

Blood red.

His fangs glinted beneath his curled lips, and his claws extended—ready to kill again.

"R–Roselina... I... I’m sorry. Please... come back to me... Please..."

The words played on repeat in his mind. A broken chant. A desperate plea.

All of this—all of it—because he wanted to surprise her with flowers.

A slow, almost deranged smile spread across his face.

"Who’s next?"

His gaze lifted—cold, piercing.

It landed on Rose’s personal maid.

Slang.

Her head separated from her body before she could even scream. Her blood painted the wall behind her, a red bloom born of tragedy and hopelessness.

******

*******

Zethan’s eyes snapped open—wide, confused, disoriented.

His chest rose sharply as he gasped, and he quickly tried to sit up, only to realize...

He was on the floor.

His gaze shifted downward, trembling slightly as he noticed a soft, pale hand resting on his forehead—Lilia’s.

She was still. Too still.

Then it hit him.

The memories...

His past. The life he had long forgotten—buried, locked away—had returned to him in a violent rush. Every emotion. Every pain. Every regret.

And the truth became clear.

Lilia had unlocked them.

But at a cost.

Zethan’s hands shook as he gently removed her hand from his forehead, his eyes slowly rising to meet her lifeless face.

"No..." he whispered.

His voice cracked.

His breath caught in his throat as he cradled her limp body in his arms. "Not again... I won’t lose you again..."

But the silence around him was louder than his inner cries.

It was too late.

His heart clenched, his mind screamed—but no sound escaped him.

Lilia was Roselina—the woman he married—his wife in his past life.

They had given him a second chance. Roselina had reincarnated as Lilia.

A Twisted Fate

His gaze darkened, glowing faintly crimson.

He had failed her.

Not this time. Not again...

But fate had already drawn its line.