The vampire serventy

The rain hammered against the iron gates of Blackwood Manor like a thousand angry fists. Eina stood there, soaked to the bone, clutching a crumpled piece of paper in her trembling hands. *SERVANT CONTRACT - 6 MONTHS* *Salary: $2,000 per month* *Additional Clause: Weekly blood donation required.* Her little sister was sick at home. The hospital bills were piling up. She had no choice. The massive gates creaked open on their own. Standing in the doorway was him. He was tall. Too tall. Six foot three at least. Black shirt, black pants, and hair that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in years. But it was his eyes that made her breath catch. Red. Not brown. Not hazel. Blood red. "You're late," he said. His voice was cold, smooth, like silk over ice. "I-I’m Eina," she stammered. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Arman. Owner of this manor. And your master for the next six months." He turned without waiting for her reply and walked inside. Eina had no choice but to follow. The inside of Blackwood Manor was worse than she imagined. No lights. Only candles. Hundreds of them. The walls were covered in portraits. Every single one was of the same man — Arman. But the clothes changed. In one he wore armor from the 1800s. In another, a suit from the 1920s. In the last one, the same black shirt he wore now. He stopped in the middle of the grand hall and turned to her. "Three rules," he said, holding up one pale finger. "One. Do not leave your room after midnight." A second finger. "Two. Do not ask questions I don’t answer." A third finger. "Three. Every Friday night, you will give me blood." Eina’s heart dropped to her stomach. "Blood?" Arman stepped closer. She could smell him — old books, rain, and something metallic underneath. "Don’t worry," he whispered. "I won’t kill you. Just a little. Enough to keep me... alive." His red eyes flickered. "In return, your sister gets the best doctors. The best medicine. Is it a deal?" Eina thought of her sister’s pale face, the hospital tubes, the debt collectors at the door. She swallowed hard. "Deal." The moment she said it, every candle in the manor went out. Darkness. And in that darkness, Arman’s eyes glowed like embers. "Welcome to Blackwood, Eina," he said. "Welcome to the blood contract." --- *Her first night* was the longest of her life. Her room was small, at the end of a long hallway. No windows. Just a bed, a desk, and a silver bowl on a table. A note was pinned to the bowl. _For Friday._ Eina couldn’t sleep. Every sound made her jump. The creaking of wood. The howl of wind. And something else... footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Stopping right outside her door. She held her breath. The doorknob turned. It was locked. A voice, barely a whisper, came through the wood. "Sleep well, servant. Friday is in three days." Then the footsteps walked away. --- *Friday came too fast.* At 11:55 PM, a maid she had never seen before knocked on her door. The woman’s face was pale and her eyes were downcast. "Master is waiting in the East Wing," the maid whispered. "Don’t keep him waiting." Eina followed her through dark corridors. The manor felt alive. Like it was watching her. The East Wing ended in a huge room. No furniture. Just a single chair in the center, and Arman sitting on it. He looked different tonight. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. His skin was even paler. And those red eyes... they were hungry. "Come here," he ordered. Eina walked forward on shaky legs and stopped in front of him. "Sit," he pointed to the floor at his feet. She obeyed. Arman leaned down. He took her wrist in his cold hand. His touch sent chills down her spine. "Are you scared?" he asked softly. "Yes," she admitted. "Good," he said. And then he bit down. The pain was sharp, but quick. Eina gasped and gripped the arm of the chair. She felt warmth leave her body. But what scared her more was the sound Arman made. Not a monster’s growl. A sigh. Like he had been thirsty for a hundred years. After a minute, he pulled back. There were two small marks on her wrist. He lifted his eyes to hers. For the first time, they weren’t red. They were human. And full of regret. "Thank you," he whispered. Before Eina could answer, the doors burst open. Three men stood there. Dressed in black. Eyes glowing red too. "Arman," the one in front hissed. "We’ve come to collect what’s ours. The girl." Arman stood in front of Eina instantly. Protecting her. "She’s under my contract," he growled. "You can’t have her." The leader smiled, showing sharp fangs. "Then we’ll take both of you." And that’s when Eina saw it. On Arman’s chest, under his shirt... 30 faint star-shaped scars. Glowing in the dark. The same 30 stars that had been in her dreams since she was a child. *[TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2: The 30 Stars and the Vampire King]*