My Stepmom Is A Vampire & Her Entire Bloodline Wants To Breed Me

Chapter 252: Uncommon Folklore

More than a week ago, in the ruins of Leuca.

Ulrich kept his gaze on the map spread across the desk before him. It was an old map, one drawn before the North fractured into dozens of smaller countries.

Back then, it had been the largest continent and the harshest one. Strange, considering the North once still knew spring, summer, and autumn before the King died.

The funeral had been held in complete secrecy. None of the princes or princesses even knew where the King’s corpse had been buried.

Only after modern technology emerged did certain things begin to make sense. Or at least, some of them did.

Satellite imagery revealed a single region in the North where storms never ceased, specifically on the continent of Leuca, around a small village called Amber.

The phenomenon was unnatural. An extratropical cyclone remained fixed above the area without dispersing even once.

"To conceal a corpse with such obsession..." Ulrich murmured softly. "One would assume the dead king left behind something or someone."

It was unfortunate that Ulrich had not lived during the era of the Morum Kingdom or the Empire. Had he done so, perhaps he would have seen the larger picture.

The first patriarch of Draemir had been powerful and loyal, but painfully naive. Many political intrigues that should have been carefully documented were either lost or never recorded in the first place.

Compared to houses like Velstrath or even Corvane, Draemir possessed very little knowledge of the past.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"You may enter," he said calmly.

The door opened, and a young man stepped inside carrying a tray with a bottle of wine infused with spices.

Even for a vampire, the mixture was pleasant. It did not ruin the taste of blood hidden beneath the wine, only deepened the aroma.

"Mm." Ulrich’s eyes shifted toward the bottle. "Saffron, if I am not mistaken?"

He rose from his chair and moved toward the sofa near the study table.

"Yes, Lord Ulrich." Matthew approached carefully before presenting the bottle.

"My Lady asked me to bring this to you as a token of gratitude. The wine has been warmed properly. It should suit the weather rather well."

The young man uncorked the bottle with ease. Every movement was neat and professional as he poured the wine into a glass, then carefully placed a strand of saffron atop the surface before setting it down in front of Ulrich.

Ulrich lifted the glass and inhaled the scent first.

"How refined, you have clearly done this many times before. Frankly, I find it rather curious that Lady Isolde has yet to transform you."

He took a slow sip while observing Matthew’s reaction over the rim of the glass. The young man concealed himself well. Only a faint smile and a restrained laugh betrayed his discomfort.

"My Lady simply has many matters to consider."

"I see." Ulrich set the glass down. "So that is the conclusion you have chosen to believe."

Matthew hesitated for a moment. "Would you... care to share your thoughts, My Lord?"

"Gladly. Though in truth, I had intended to summon you regardless. You once lived in Amber Village, did you not?"

Matthew nodded. "Yes, My Lord. Though I am not certain how useful my memories will be. I was only a child back then."

"A child’s memories are often more honest than an adult’s understanding, every detail has value. Please, sit."

He gestured toward the sofa across from him.

"And perhaps," he continued with a faint smile, "your recollections may also reveal why Lady Isolde continues to keep you at arm’s length."

Matthew looked uncertain, but eventually sat down.

"Let us begin with something simple," he said. "Your family and your childhood. Tell me, when you look back on that village now, was there ever anything that struck you as... unnatural?"

Matthew did not answer immediately. He tapped his fingers lightly against his thigh, clearly sorting through old memories before finally speaking.

"My father was a miner. My mother worked as a helper, she went from house to house washing clothes and cleaning."

He paused briefly. "I also had a younger sister once."

"I see," Ulrich said softly. "So your mother and sister are already gone. And your father?"

Matthew looked up in surprise. "How did you know, My Lord?"

"The way your voice shifted when you spoke of them, there was grief when you mentioned your mother and sister. Guilt as well. But when your father comes to mind..."

"There was anger."

Matthew let out a quiet breath and lowered his gaze.

"You truly see through people too easily." A bitter smile appeared on his face. "Yes. They are all gone."

For a moment, silence settled between them before Matthew continued.

"As for strange things in the village... it was the soldiers. The way they acted toward us."

Ulrich listened quietly.

"They never destroyed Amber Village. Instead, they built a headquarters there and started mining something from the mountain. They kept saying only our people could do it."

Matthew frowned slightly, as though trying to organize memories he himself did not fully understand.

"I didn’t understand what they meant back then, but most villagers actually felt lucky. At least we were allowed to live normally."

"How fascinating," Ulrich murmured. He rested a finger lightly against his chin. "And when they referred to ’your people,’ did they mean only the villagers of Amber?"

Matthew shook his head. "No. Workers came from the surrounding region too. Our ancestors had taught us about the mountain since childhood. I think that’s why Orchina’s soldiers kept us alive. They still wanted to explore whatever was hidden beyond the mountain."

Ulrich’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought, though his expression remained composed.

"And aside from the soldiers? Anything else unusual?"

Matthew’s hands slowly clenched together. "My father changed, not just him. Many miners did."

"They started deteriorating mentally. My father became unstable. He kept talking about golden veins, a witch... things that stopped making sense."

Ulrich leaned back against the sofa, studying the young man in silence. The pain was still fresh. That much was obvious. Whatever had happened in that village had left scars Matthew still carried into adulthood.

He chose not to press further.

"Then let us approach this from another angle. What about local folklore? Did Amber Village possess any legends uncommon to the surrounding regions?"

Matthew nodded slowly. "There was a story everyone knew. About the Crying Witch."

"The adults used it to scare children from wandering outside at night. They said if a child left home without permission, the Crying Witch would call from beyond the mountain. If she found you..."

"She would drag you away and kill you on her altar."

Ulrich’s gaze sharpened ever so slightly. "An altar? What exactly did they mean by that?"

Matthew grimaced faintly. "I never asked for details back then. I was a child." He paused before adding, "But the crying was real. At night, you could hear it echoing from the mountains. It sounded like a woman sobbing."

Even now, the memory clearly unsettled him.

"And once, I saw several miners walking toward the mountain in the middle of the night. They looked absent-minded, almost as if they were sleepwalking."

Ulrich’s fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.

"Did you follow them?"

Matthew nodded once. "I tried to. But before I could go too far, my mother found me and dragged me back home."

"I see."

Ulrich lowered his gaze toward the wine in his hand, the saffron floating quietly at the surface. By now, several theories had already formed in his mind. The strange storm, the miners, the mountain, the folklore surrounding the Crying Witch.

Every thread pointed toward the same individual.

The King’s concubine.