Chapter 235: Let’s make the marriage official!

The morning in Mirath was vibrant.

The cobblestone streets reflected the golden sunlight, merchants adjusted colorful stalls, children scurried among barrels and crates, and the sounds of conversation mingled with the clinking of coins and the distant creaking of carriages. It was the kind of everyday movement that made the town seem ordinary.

But nothing about that walk was ordinary.

Damon walked beside Elizabeth, keeping pace with her with almost casual ease. Eyes came—inevitable, discreet, curious. Some respectful. Others fearful. Others simply fascinated.

He noticed them all.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked softly.

Elizabeth didn’t even slow her pace.

“With what?”

“With showing up like this. In the middle of town. In broad daylight. With me.”

She turned her face slightly, her smile small and tranquil.

“Everyone knows who I am, Damon. And those who don’t, learn quickly.” “That’s not what I meant.”

She arched a delicate eyebrow.

“I don’t mind stares,” she continued serenely. “I never have.”

Damon murmured, almost to himself:

“I do mind.”

She listened, of course she listened.

“You mind because you’re still learning to exist on that level,” she said softly. “I passed that stage a long time ago.”

He didn’t answer immediately.

The problem wasn’t fear. It wasn’t insecurity.

It was instinct.

He felt each gaze as an assessment. As a potential threat. As a calculation.

And, strangely, he also felt her silent pride as she walked beside him.

“What exactly are we doing?” he asked, changing the subject. “You rarely leave the mansion.”

She let out a small nasal laugh.

“I do.”

“Not often.”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

She slowed her pace slightly, allowing the flow of people to reorganize around them.

“It wasn’t a matter of preference,” she continued. “It was limitation.”

Damon turned to face her.

“Limitation?”

“I was too weak to go out often.”

He frowned.

“Weak?”

Elizabeth looked ahead, her expression too calm for someone who had just admitted vulnerability.

“Noble vampires are different from commoners,” she said. “Our power isn’t just physical. It’s structural. It sustains our form, our presence, our influence.”

She raised her hand, her elegant fingers catching a beam of light that pierced the buildings.

“When my blood began to deplete over the years… I needed to choose where to spend my energy.”

Damon was silent.

“Keeping the mansion protected. Keeping my subordinates strong. Keeping my own mind stable.”

She then turned her face to him, her smile returning.

“And maintain my appearance.”

He blinked.

“Your appearance?”

“Of course.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“You think I always looked twenty?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she continued before he could.

“I actually looked like a ninety-year-old woman.”

He almost stumbled.

“What?”

She laughed, clearly amused by his reaction.

“White hair, wrinkled skin, hunched posture. Nothing glamorous.”

Damon stared at her face as if searching for traces of this invisible version.

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

She brought her face closer to his, provocatively closing the distance.

“Maintaining this form required practically all my remaining energy.”

He processed the information slowly.

“So you were… burning your own power just to look like this?”

“Not just to look like this.”

She smiled slightly.

“Appearance is influence. Influence is control. Control is survival.”

It made sense.

But still…

“Were you that weak?” he asked, more serious now.

She held his gaze for a few seconds before answering.

“Yes.”

No dramatization. No shame.

Just the truth.

Damon looked forward again, absorbing it.

He never would have imagined.

She always seemed absolute. Unshakeable. Mysterious. Untouchable.

“I never would have noticed,” he murmured.

“That was the idea.”

She then squeezed his arm lightly.

“But now it’s different.”

He already knew what was coming.

“Now I have an infinite blood supply.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m a person, not a bag.”

“An extremely useful person.”

He rolled his eyes.

But he felt the connection vibrate.

She wasn’t being cruel. She was being sincere. And… happy.

“With your blood,” she continued, “I can partially regain my powers without losing control. Without entering a state of prolonged hunger. Without the risk of instability.”

She looked at the open sky.

“I can exist again.”

He felt the weight of it.

“It’s a good thing you’re this beautiful,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “And not a ninety-year-old woman.”

She laughed loudly, without restraint.

The sound caught the attention of some passersby.

“So you would abandon me if I were wrinkled?” she teased.

“I would have thought twice.”

She feigned indignation.

“Monster.”

“Realistic.”

She shook her head, still laughing.

“You wouldn’t.”

He shrugged.

“Probably not.”

The city center opened up before them.

Larger buildings, facades of worked stone, official flags fluttering in the wind. The flow of people was more organized there. Guards positioned at strategic points.

Damon looked up.

And saw.

A large sign, carved with firm, golden letters:

Mirath Central Registry Office.

He stopped.

Elizabeth took two more steps before realizing he had fallen behind.

She turned her face.

“Damon?”

He discreetly pointed to the sign.

“What are we doing here?”

She observed him for a moment, her expression unreadable.

Then, with absolute nonchalance, she replied:

“Let’s go in.”

He didn’t move.

“Elizabeth.”

“Yes?”

“This is a registry office.”

“I know.”

“A central registry office.”

“Exactly.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Why?”

She walked back to him, stopping just inches away.

“Because, my dear vampire husband,” she said softly, “mystical rituals are valid among our kind.”

She touched his chest with her fingertips.

“But the human world still requires paper.”

He blinked.

“Paper.”

“Documents. Records. Shared property. Legal authority. Name.”

He was silent for a few seconds.

“You want to formalize this… officially?”

“Yes.”

The answer was simple.

Direct.

Without hesitation.

He looked at the building again.

Employees coming and going. Nobles signing contracts. People settling inheritances, lands, alliances.

“Isn’t this a little too impulsive?” he asked.

She tilted her head slightly.

“We’re already bound by blood, besides, you need a surname. Seriously, you need a full name, just Damon de Mirath is kind of… strange.”

“This is different.”

“It is.”

She took a step forward, drawing closer again.

“This is a public choice.”

The bond between them vibrated with subtle intensity.

She wasn’t doing this out of strategic necessity.

She was doing it by choice.

“You can refuse,” she added, surprising him.

He stared at her.

“Can I?”

“You can.”

She kept her gaze steady.

“The ritual has already connected us. None of this is mandatory, but I still think it’s advantageous to have a full name. It’s up to you.”

He analyzed her expression.

There was no manipulation.

No calculation.

Just restrained expectation.

Damon let out a small sigh.

“You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

“I never have.”

He looked at the sign again.

Mirath Central Registry Office.

He felt the sun on his back.

He felt the connection in his chest.

He felt her presence beside him.

Then, finally, he began to walk.

He went through the door.

Elizabeth smiled—not triumphantly.

Radiantly.

And she followed him in… but stopped…

On the other side of the square, partially hidden under the awning of a fabric shop, two men watched.

Simple clothes. Too casual a posture.

Too attentive an eyes. One of them tilted his head slightly when he saw Elizabeth cross the street beside Damon.

“She’s gone out.”

“I see.”

“That woman never leaves the mansion.”

“Never during the day.”

The second swallowed hard.

“That wasn’t in the reports.”

“Nothing about her circulating around town.”

They watched as Elizabeth walked with absolute naturalness, as if all of Mirath were just an extension of her estate.

“She’s… different?”

“No.”

“I mean… more alive.”

The first frowned.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s the target.”

“I know.”

But neither of them could take their eyes off her.

That woman.

That presence.

They had heard stories.

About missing subordinates.

About nobles who crossed the line and were found unrecognizable.

Over entire corridors of the mansion covered in something no one dared describe.

“This is a mistake,” the second murmured.

“Orders are orders.”

They exchanged a quick glance.

There was fear there.

Real.

“We’ll wait for him to leave the building,” said the first, referring to the Central Registry Office. “She won’t be exposed for long.”

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t have time to answer.

Because a soft voice sounded right behind them.

Calm.

Amused.

Too close.

“How cute. You really are after Damon.”

They both turned at the same time.

And only had time to see her eyes.

Red.

Not shining.

Deep.

A crimson mist rose around them like a slow sigh.

Silent.

Elegant.

Lethal.

The first man couldn’t even scream.

The mist passed through his body like invisible blades, and he simply… disintegrated. Flesh separating into impossible fragments. Bones breaking silently. Blood evaporating into the red air.

The second fell to his knees before he even understood what was happening.

The mist enveloped his legs, corroding flesh and tissue as if the air itself had become a predator.

He tried to crawl.

He tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Elizabeth approached slowly.

The mist swirled around her like a living extension of her will.

She stopped before him.

She lowered herself slightly.

She smiled.

It wasn’t the radiant smile of before.

It was delicate.

Polite.

Absolutely cruel.

“Look at you… so dedicated.”

He trembled.

Tears mingled with the blood that trickled from what remained of his legs.

She held his chin with two fingers, forcing him to look at her.

“You will survive.”

The fog lifted—partially.

The pain remained.

He gasped, desperate.

“I’m going to kill you all.”

Her voice didn’t rise.

There was no anger.

There was a promise.

“I’m going to tear off every limb. One by one.”

His eyes widened.

“I’m going to make you crawl in your own blood.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“And then I’ll force you to eat each other’s entrails.”

He began to sob.

She brought her face close to his, whispering:

“Tell your leader.”

The fog intensified around them, pulsing like a crimson heart.

“Tell him that Damon is now my husband.”

Her fingers tightened around his jaw until it almost broke.

“And if you want to continue with this charade…”

A wider smile appeared.

“I will personally erase every trace of this organization from Mirath’s face.”

She released his face.

The fog receded completely.

The man fell to the ground, mutilated, trembling, alive just enough to carry the message.

Elizabeth stood up.

She adjusted the sleeve of her dress.

She took a deep breath.

And then her expression changed.

Serene.

Elegant.

Impeccable.

As if nothing had happened.

She gave one last look at the agonizing man.

“Run.”

And he ran.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep