Chapter 35: Do You Hate Me?

Vincent is a mixed-blood vampire, not a pureblood.

It's essential to note that throughout the entire history of the vampire race, there has never been a situation where a king was a mixed-blood vampire, given the deep-seated bloodline discrimination among the vampires. However, Daisy believed that racial and bloodline discrimination should be eradicated. Therefore, when choosing the next king, she completely ignored bloodline and focused solely on ideology, intelligence, and ability.

Usually, kings would reign for thousands of years, but Daisy had been in power for just over two hundred years. How could she have already groomed the next king?

Vincent doesn't address her as "queen" or "your majesty" but calls her sister, just like Danny. When he was adopted by her, he was very young, and since then, he called her sister.

To secretly groom this vampire, Daisy had him live in the palace beneath the Gorah Forest, without granting him the title of a prince, but she invested a lot of effort into him.

Unconsciously, he had nearly reached a hundred years, grown up, and could converse with her like a family member.

After suppressing the rebellion this time, she assigned him the position of a prince. Of course, he is currently the only prince with real power.

Vincent doesn't possess the conspicuous beauty of pureblood vampires, nor does he have silver hair. He has black hair and red eyes, with a slightly chubby face, appearing simple, honest, and cute.

His various talents are outstanding, and his emotional intelligence is naturally high. He can always perfectly solve all of Daisy's worries.

Daisy sat in the rose garden on a chair, and without seeking her permission, Vincent casually sat in another chair. He knew she wasn't interested in superficial formalities, so his approach was what pleased her the most.

In the rose garden, the thorny vines planted by Michael's subordinates were destroyed with a wave of Daisy's hand. The fiery roses bloomed again on every patch of soil.

Daisy was currently holding a rose. Her face, as beautiful as ever, showed no expression. She casually plucked the petals off the rose, releasing them from her fingertips.

Unconsciously, many crimson petals had already fallen to the ground.

Seeing this scene, Vincent understood everything. He cleverly asked, "Sister, have you encountered something unpleasant?"

"Yes," Daisy casually responded and then got straight to the point, "When I entered the M.R. Laboratory, there was an annoying human. I planned to kill him. My methods were already cruel, but I couldn't kill him. In the end, he dissected me. Now that I've caught him, I found out he can feel pain but isn't afraid of it. So, I trampled on his dignity to torture him. But what I'm doing is wrong." Daisy's last sentence was spoken with a serious expression as she looked at Vincent.

Vincent thought carefully for a moment and, looking a bit uncertain, asked, "Sister, do you feel that this human is somewhat special?"

Vincent intentionally phrased it this way. The word "special" can have many meanings, but the first interpretation that crossed Daisy's mind made her heart tremble, as if it had struck a chord with her emotions.

In reality, he was indeed a bit special. He was the first person she wanted to kill so desperately but couldn't; the first to arouse her desires; the first she felt such an intense desire to conquer; the first to come looking for her from afar in a fighter jet; and most significantly, the first person to walk towards her through raging flames.

He was the first person to endure all kinds of humiliations from her without uttering a word, allowing her to do as she pleased, as long as it made her happy.

However, Daisy's emotions were quite subdued, and no matter what, that human held only a tiny bit of significance in her heart.

She asked Vincent, "How did you figure it out?"

"Because sister's actions this time don't quite align with sister's past behavior," Vincent answered with a smile, looking very friendly. "If it were the sister from before, as long as he could feel pain, you would only make him suffer, not trample on his dignity."

"Moreover, sister, you didn't use to invest so much effort in someone you disliked. You would just throw them into the dungeon for other vampires to torment. At most, you would go take a look at his miserable state, not waste your time personally torturing him."

"Also, a broad-minded vampire like sister, what's done is done. Why insist on this? Sister, this suggests that you don't hate him; you resent him."

Daisy slightly widened her eyes. Did she hate him?

Yes, she hated him.

Not because he knew her biggest secret, but because that night, she unexplainably felt a warm flow surging in her chest. Yet, she believed his feelings were different and that he only treated her as an object—a thing to dissect without mercy, a plaything.

So, she hated him.

Thinking about it, a malicious glint appeared in Daisy's eyes. She said, "Should I lock him up in the dungeon and let them torture him even more cruelly?"

Vincent shook his head, thinking it was really a case of the person involved being muddled, while onlookers remained clear-headed. Even a clever vampire like his sister could have days when she wasn't clear-headed about her own affairs.

He sincerely said, "Sister, maybe you can get along with him."

Daisy, upon hearing this, found it a bit unbelievable. She stared at Vincent and said, "I hate him a bit, so how can I get along well with someone I hate?"

"No love, no hate. Where does hate come from?" Vincent earnestly told her, "Maybe sister has only a tiny bit of love for him, but it's there."

Hearing this statement shocked Daisy.

Meanwhile, Vincent continued to say seriously, "If he doesn't love sister, or if he's someone untrustworthy, then sister should let go."

"I believe, sister, that you're definitely a vampire who can pick up and let go."

After Vincent said this, seeing that Daisy didn't respond, he silently left.

However, Daisy remained seated in the rose garden, lost in thought for a long time.

She felt that she had done something excessively cruel to that human, and he must despise her for it.

But what Vincent said was worth a try.

If that damn human didn't know his place, she would throw him into the dungeon and grant him only physical torture, sparing him from her mental humiliations.

Closing her eyes, she teleported to that pitch-black bedroom.

Although she used many tools each time, and despite Sītú Mù having a cleanliness obsession, Daisy was also fond of cleanliness. So, each time, she would casually make the room clean and tidy.

He was still bound to the bed, dressed neatly. At this moment, his eyes were closed, as if he were asleep.

The X-virus could only maintain his physical condition from when he was twenty-three, unable to cure the nearsightedness he had since he was in his teens. Therefore, he used to wear glasses. But during the explosion of the fighter jet, his golden-wire glasses were destroyed. Luckily, his nearsightedness wasn't severe, so he could go without glasses.

Daisy thought he looked very handsome without glasses. She gently traced his brows and eyes, and he opened his eyes.

Even though he couldn't see, he could feel her through touch. Thus, he warmly said, "Sweetheart, you've come."

When speaking to others, his voice was as chilly as early spring wind, but when talking to her, it became as gentle and warm as late spring breeze.

Daisy's other hand instinctively rested on his shoulder, bringing them very close, and their breaths entwined. Due to many past experiences in this room, merely getting close to him created an inexplicable ambiguous atmosphere.

After a moment of silence, Daisy suddenly said, "You haven't told me your name yet."

This time, she surprisingly didn't force him to call her Mistress. He felt like she was slowly changing.

"Sītú Mù," he truthfully answered.

What neither of them expected was that even if he told her his name, she would rarely, rarely call him by it afterward.

At this moment, the soft hand she placed on his shoulder gently moved towards his neck, feeling like cool jade, yet soft and smooth.

Her hand stopped at the back of his neck, and the tender red lips approached his, as if testing, and she exhaled like an orchid, "Do you hate me?"