Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 124: Record…..

Lilia and Zethan sat inside the car as it zoomed off. Lilia stared silently out the window, lost deep in thought. She had been like that for some time now, and Zethan was starting to get worried.

At first, he had chosen to give her space, thinking she just needed time to process everything. But now, he wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t just silence — it was the kind that weighed heavily in the air. She wasn’t teasing, talking, or even making a sound. Just... quiet. And that scared him more than anything.

This time, it was Zethan who moved first. Usually, it was Lilia who reached out to him, but now it was him moving toward her. He slid closer, sitting side by side with her, and gently placed his hand over her lap, entwining their fingers together. Lilia said nothing, only softly rubbing her thumb over his palm, a small, soothing gesture as if that would help ground her to reality.

After a long moment, she quietly turned to him.

"Zethan," she whispered, "do you think it’s better to die with only three people who truly care about you... or to die with the whole world watching, even if 99% of them don’t really care?" freewebnσvel.cøm

Zethan was silent. He didn’t know how to answer. He had never thought about it — immortality made such things seem distant, irrelevant.

Instead of speaking, he simply listened, nodding in response so she could say what was on her heart.

"If I were to die," Lilia said softly, "I wouldn’t want crowds. Five people... or even one, as long as that person or people care. That is what matters. Because I know even if it is a hundred, most of them wouldn’t really care."

Zethan said nothing, only holding her hand a little tighter. Lilia gently lifted her head from his shoulder, her voice calm but edged with something deeper.

"It’s strange," she murmured. "For some reason, the annoyance I feel is even stronger than the pain."

Zethan just listened, tracing gentle circles on her palm with his fingertips.

Then she asked, so quietly it almost broke him,

"Zethan... if I were to die... would you marry again?" The words came out broken, like glass shattering to powder.

She didn’t know if she was being selfish for asking. After all, she was still human. She didn’t even know if it was possible for her to become a vampire, or what that would even mean for her if she could become immortal like Zethan. So she questioned herself — was it selfish to expect anything from him? How could an immortal man stay tied to a mortal woman forever?

Of course, he would move on someday. Maybe he would mourn her for a while, maybe he would miss her deeply... but eventually, he might fall for someone else. And that was the part that hurt the most.

Yet even knowing that, she still couldn’t stop herself from asking. She still needed to hear his answer.

And even if he said yes... even if he told her he would marry again... she would try to understand. She would try to accept it.

Zethan was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice low.

"No."

Lilia’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, she whispered, almost to herself,

"You’re just saying that..."

Her voice trembled. "Feelings change. You might meet someone even better."

Zethan didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he gently cupped her jaw, turning her face toward him. His thumb brushed her cheek as he spoke softly, firmly,

"You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met. I would never find anyone better. So stop saying that."

But Lilia shook her head, her heart heavy.

"No, I am not perfect," she whispered. "That’s a lie, Zethan. You hated me once, remember? And now... now we’re cooperating. What if...?"

Her voice faded as she turned her face away again, staring at the distant trees outside the window.

Why was she always so pessimistic?

Why couldn’t she just be a little more optimistic for once?

It was the part of herself she hated the most — the way her doubts and fears always drowned out any hope she tried to hold onto.

Why was it that her pessimism always outweighed her optimism?

Just why?

Zethan watched her for a moment, then a faint, almost bitter smile pulled at his lips. He leaned closer, his voice a soft vow,

"I will never marry another woman. Stop talking about death..." He paused.

"It would be my betrayal. No matter what happens, I won’t."

Lilia fell silent, knowing full well that whenever Zethan said something, he meant it with his whole heart. But still... she didn’t want him to stay lonely. Why was she even thinking about that right now?

She lowered her gaze and spoke softly,

"I would be very selfish to make you promise something like that... so please, don’t make any promises. Okay?"

Even though her faith was strong, deep down she was scared — scared that if fate struck and she ended up dying, she didn’t want Zethan to be left alone and hurting because of her.

If she loved him, then she should make him happy, not sad, right?

Before she could say more, Zethan moved. He covered her mouth gently with his palm and whispered,

"Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? Wife...please."

There was a rawness in his voice — a quiet, desperate plea.

Lilia’s body stiffened slightly, stunned by the weight of his words. She turned her gaze toward him just as he looked away, his face hidden from her view. But for a fleeting second, she had caught something — something different in his expression.

When he turned back to face her, his usual calm look had returned, as if nothing had changed. But Lilia knew better. She could have sworn that just for a moment, something in the atmosphere between them had shifted — deeply — before it quickly smoothed itself out.

And she couldn’t help but wonder... how did he do that so easily?

Then she asked softly,

"Do you think I’m heartless? I didn’t even say goodbye to my mom or my sister. We just... left. Do you think I did a terrible thing?"

Lilia wondered if she was acting like a terrible daughter — what kind of daughter couldn’t even face her mother and sister to offer condolences on the day of their father’s death? She had just left with her husband, without looking back.

Zethan shook his head firmly.

"No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Never feel like you owe anyone anything, okay?"

Lilia nodded slowly, her chest tightening with emotion. Zethan moved closer and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Her body warmed instantly, her heart skipping a beat as a faint blush crept up her cheeks.

The chauffeur looked through the rearview mirror, his eyes darting as he softly cleared his throat, his cheeks slightly pink as he managed to maintain a professional demeanor.

*

*

*

Inside a dim, silent building, a figure slowly tapped his fingers on the table. His head was bald, the single overhead light casting a cold gleam across it. The rest of the lights were off, leaving the room wrapped in deep shadows.

He stared blankly at his laptop, where a brutal action movie played — though he wasn’t really paying attention. It wasn’t just a movie about fake fights and heroes. It was the kind of film that mirrored real life: if you survived, you survived; if you died, you died. There was no in-between.

Yet even with the real blood and chaos flashing across the screen, he sat still, looking down at it blankly, like he was searching for something more... something better.

Just then, his phone rang.

First ring.

Second ring.

Third ring.

He glanced at the caller ID but didn’t pick up. Instead, he resumed tapping his nails against the table, a sharp, irritated sound cutting through the silence.

When the phone rang again, he moved sluggishly, shifting his large frame in the wheelie chair — the only perfect chair left in the place. He tapped on the call log and finally answered, his voice low and cold.

"Did you record the conversation?"

A voice crackled through the speaker.

"All conversations were recorded at the funeral, boss."

A slow, cold laugh escaped his lips.

"Oh, really? What a family they are," he murmured, his voice dripping with contempt. He chuckled again before asking,

"How long is the recording?"

"Five minutes and forty seconds, boss."

"Good," he said quietly, the chill in his voice deepening. "You’ll be rewarded. Twice your salary next month."

"Thank you very much, boss," the caller replied quickly.

He hung up without another word.

Mr. and Mrs. Winslow, huh, he thought, his lips twisting into a smirk.

He turned his gaze toward a photograph resting on the table — a woman with her hair neatly packed into a bun, smiling softly in a simple flowery gown. The picture looked like her age was 19.

"Lilia Winslow," he murmured, the name sliding off his tongue like a curse.

And then, with a slow, terrifying smile on his fat face, his teeth extended into sharp, gleaming fangs.