30 Greetings, master of the tomb. I am your gravedigger.

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In the lightless gloom, a strange, faint sound emerged from within the coffin.

(Click.)

It sounded like someone tapping softly, or perhaps like someone mindlessly scratching at the wood with worn-down fingernails.

There was someone inside the coffin.

Someone still alive!

At this moment, caught in the atmosphere of the surroundings, Herbert couldn't help but twitch an eyebrow and gasp.

"Hiss!"

He swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he whispered, "A-a hopping corpse."

Oh, no.

I’ve run into a jiangshi while tomb raiding!

Herbert wished he could just turn and run—though, of course, that wasn't actually the case.

There was indeed a living thing in the coffin—well, could one call it a dead thing?

Who knows how vampires are supposed to be classified anyway?

At this point, how could Herbert fail to guess that the coffin before him belonged to the second prisoner held within the Prison of No Light?

Clearly, Archmage Svanie, who secretly controlled the paths of the Prison of No Light, did not want to see him.

She had compromised.

But she hadn't fully conceded; she had only compromised a little bit.

Svanie didn't want to meet anyone herself, so she shoved her roommate out as a human shield.

[The Blood-Fallen], [The Kinslayer], [The Blood-Hating Prince]—Eliza Fate.

A fierce non-human being who had no famous battles or records in the human world, yet was imprisoned solely on the merit of being a "Vampire Prince."

Herbert looked at the Gothic, black iron coffin, feeling a sense of sentimentality. "A vampire prince... the name alone makes it feel like a fantasy world."

Like titles such as "I Was Expelled from the Party and Awakened the Sleeping Blood Princess in the Dungeon" or "I Can’t Possibly Be the Hero If the Vampire Prince Is Obsessed with Me"...

Regardless of whether the content is reliable, as long as the title is long enough, someone will want to read it—I’ve got to see what kind of nonsense such a long title is hiding!

(Click.)

"Well, I suppose there won't be any ridiculous developments like in those novels. I wonder what her personality is like. Is she easy to trick... is she easy to talk to?"

(Click!)

"What if she's like Svanie—an autistic child? Wouldn't that make this floor incredibly hard to clear?"

(Click, clack...)

After thinking for a while, Herbert suddenly realized something. He looked back at the motionless coffin and tilted his head in confusion.

"Eh? That's slow."

"I've been waiting for ages. Why hasn't she come out yet? She wouldn't be shy, would she?"

Watching silently for a while, once all sound from within the coffin ceased, Herbert finally realized something very important.

It seemed this vampire wasn't unwilling to come out; she was truly unable to.

Was she too weak?

Thump, thump.

Herbert knocked on the coffin again, asking tentatively, "Um, do you need some help?"

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He was answered by a flurry of tapping.

(Click-clack-clack-clack...)

From the rhythm of the tapping, one could tell that the person inside was truly desperate.

Although the vampire hadn't spoken, Herbert could practically hallucinate a string of cries: Help me! Help me! Help me!

"Alright then."

Given the current situation, their first meeting probably wouldn't be as legendary as those in fantasy stories.

But in another sense, it was quite legendary.

Have you ever seen the male protagonist of a story help the female lead by digging up her own grave?

"Hello there, miss. I'm your gravedigger!"

Herbert did intend to help, but a new problem arose.

"Come to think of it, how am I supposed to help you?"

He looked at the black iron coffin, which was over three meters long and at least two meters wide, then looked at his own thin arms and legs, his mouth twitching slightly.

"Do I push? Pull? Or pry it open?"

Friend, is this coffin a sliding-lid model? Or a flip-top?

Herbert pushed with all his might for a long while before the coffin lid finally budged, revealing an extremely narrow gap.

The gap was tiny, only a few millimeters wide—just enough to wedge a sword blade into.

Herbert hesitated for a moment but decided against using his own sword as a crowbar.

That would be a bit too extravagant.

I'll wait until I can find a real "Sword of Physics" to do that...

Just as Herbert was about to leave to upgrade his gear, the long-silent vampire finally spoke:

"...Blood."

"Give me... blood."

A voice of extreme weakness drifted out from the gap in the coffin, sending shivers down Herbert's spine just by hearing it.

"Help me, give me the blood..."

An ancient presence whispered from within the coffin, attempting to coax a little help from the person outside.

"Help me!"

"Drip the blood onto it!"

"Save me!"

"I will surely reward you..."

The woman's voice gave no hint of her age; it was only hoarse and strained, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other, making one’s skin crawl.

Yet, at the same time, the voice seemed to possess a strange, eerie magic, making Herbert feel an uncontrollable urge to do as she said.

[Draw your sword!]

[Drip the blood into the coffin!]

The vampire didn't say it explicitly, but those three thoughts echoed repeatedly in Herbert's mind, bewitching him.

"..."

Gradually, all expression vanished from Herbert's face, his eyes turning dull and vacant.

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He raised his hand to the hilt and slowly drew it from the scabbard.

*Shhh*—

The vampire seemed to hear the sound from the outside and, realizing this was the critical moment, intensified her call.

"Come!"

"Come and help me!"

"Good child, quickly co—ah!!?"

The person in the coffin let out a startled cry.

Because the mortal had indeed walked to the front of the coffin with his sword as she had intended, but he hadn't cut his wrist as she had instructed.

Instead... he slammed the sword directly into the gap of the coffin!

*Clang*—

The sharp blade, with perfect precision, plunged straight into her chest!

"Cough!?"

Caught off guard, the little blood she had left was coughed up, and Eliza scrambled to suck it back in mid-air.

My blood!

The already weak vampire became even more withered, her mind filled with question marks.

No, how did he manage to do that?

The vampire couldn't help herself and asked in a hurry, "You, what are you doing?"

To this, Herbert curled his lip and replied as if it were only natural: "Aren't you in need of blood? Isn't this me helping you?"

Damn it!

I wanted your blood!

I didn't mean for you to help me like this!?

Up until this moment, Eliza hadn't doubted her hypnotic abilities; she simply felt that this mortal's thought process was not quite normal.

But Herbert had no intention of acting any longer.

Playing along was fine, but overacting was no longer fun.

He spoke directly: "Vampire miss, did you know? We could have had a proper conversation, but you chose to provoke me instead."

The second thing Herbert hated most right now was "others attempting to exert mental control over him," ranking just behind "being crushed."

This was the limit; he could endure no more.

As Eliza hesitated, Herbert said coldly, "By the way, didn't you want my blood?"

"Fine."

"I'll give it to you."

Herbert grabbed the blade of the sword that was wedged into the gap!

*Sshhh*—

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