High School of Demon Hunting
Chapter 170 - 94 Sir Friedman_1

Chapter 170: Chapter 94 Sir Friedman_1

Stepping over the dark red, tall threshold, the first thing that caught Matthew Karen’s eye was an enormous floor-to-ceiling window.

The window was tightly shut, with blood-red velvet curtains hung on golden hooks on both sides, reminiscent of a woman’s flowing hair, graceful and captivating.

Through the bright window, the distant Silent Forest was lush and green, while the hustle and bustle of Beta Town’s pedestrian street was nearby. In the midst of the stirring activity and serene stillness, one could easily lose oneself.

On both sides of the floor-to-ceiling window, two large portraits hung on the clean white stone walls.

The man on the left looked to the right, seated obliquely in a large, high-backed chair, as if surveying the entire world.

On top of the back of the chair was an indistinct sculpture that looked like an eye. The man wore a hat of dark red, his upper body draped in maroon cashmere, while his lower body was concealed within deep shadows. Both arms placed neatly on the armrests, his left hand pressed down on a large, thick hardcover book, and his right hand was naturally hanging down. On his ring finger, he wore a gold ring, embedded with a huge gemstone. The color of the gemstone was indiscernible, but one could vaguely sense a heavy aura of antiquity bound within.

The man on the right looked to the left, scoffing at the sky above. His lips held a trace of irreverent smile, yet his eyes were frosty and chilling.

He wore a golden, curlicue wig that draped over his left and right, revealing a smooth, lofty forehead. His face was pale, with an equally pale ruffled collar shirt peeking through his chest. The collar was embroidered with gold patterns, resembling an ancient spell. He wore shiny leather shoes, stockings, and tight riding pants, one hand resting on the hilt of a longsword at his waist, the other held a lofty wooden cup upside down, with crimson liquid on the verge of spilling out.

Matthew Karen took a deep breath, didn’t utter a word, and respectfully bowed to the two portraits.

The man seated on the left was the patriarch of the ancient Black Family of Under the Moon nobility, Tony J. Black. The heavy book he contained with his left hand was the oldest rule of the vampire world—the Laws of the Moon.

The man on the right who held the sword was the legend among vampires, the patriarch who revitalized the contemporary Karen Family, John Hugh Karen. The wooden cup casually clutched in his hand was the holy grail of the Blood Race, the vessel said to contain the original blood of the progenitor.

The two portraits didn’t show any reaction to the younger man’s display of courtesy, eyes devoid of any fluctuation. This further deepened Matthew’s reverence—it seemed only fitting, complementing their noble identities.

He bowed down, motionless, waiting for the portraits to address him.

"If you’re waiting for these two old immortals to speak, then you can stand straight now." A clear voice cut through the tranquility of the lounge, chuckling, "These are oil paintings made by mortals, not works from a magical artisan. They are not shadows of two old men, merely a collection of oil colors."

Matthew Karen stood up in surprise, unable to resist taking another careful viewing of the two paintings.

With lifelike eyes and vivid expressions, they were almost like real people.

But there wasn’t a hint of magic fluctuation in the portraits, they were truly just oil paintings.

"To be able to capture such a brilliant moment... it’s truly... a talent wasted," Matthew Karen murmured to himself, his eyes filled with regret.

In his view, the artist who had created these paintings had a talent that would astonish even wizards. Yet having this kind of talent in a frail mortal body invoked regret.

"So, you’ve come here today just to admire these two paintings of mine?" the clear voice spoke again, with a teasing tone.

Matthew Karen finally snapped back to reality.

The only person who could casually speak in this lounge was none other than the master of this room, his long-revered cousin, Friedman Black Karen.

Matthew raised his head and quickly scanned the scene.

Not far in front of him, by a tall French window, there was a large date-red wooden desk.

The desk was covered with hefty magic books and various intricate magic instruments, along with an hourglass flipping merrily for timekeeping.

By the side of the desk was a sturdy armchair in which a tall figure lounged, gently rocking. He held a book in his left hand and occasionally reached out with his right to pick a fruit from a plate.

At this moment, the master of the room leaned forward slightly, revealing platinum hair and a pair of light blue eyes.

These pair of eyes met with Matthew’s gaze in that instant.

Matthew quickly lowered his head.

"It is an honor to meet you, Sir Friedman," Matthew placed a hand on his chest and stiffly bowed, his voice trembling slightly due to anxiety. "On behalf of Count Angule Karen and Countess Lindsay O’Brien Karen, I bring you their greetings and wish you a good day."

Angule Karen was Matthew’s esteemed father, while Countess Lindsay O’Brien Karen was his mother.

You couldn’t expect anything more useful than these intricate etiquettes from the rigid brains of these old-fashioned, pure-blooded vampire nobility.

Upon hearing the guest’s greeting, the master of the room reluctantly put down his book, rose to his feet, and came forward to Matthew.

"Upon my ancestry, I hope all is well." Sir Friedman, the host, stood up, shook Matthew’s hand, and gave him a solid hug.

His towering figure blocked the sunlight from the window, casting a heavy shadow in this spacious living room: "Seeing you reminds me of last year’s winter hunting in Baddminton. It all seems like yesterday."

"Indeed, Sir." Matthew was completely unprepared for this hug, his face flushed with excitement -- a rare sight among vampires: "The demon fox you killed in Worcester Lutz left an impression on everyone."

"If you spend a few years at the first university, I’m sure you’ll surprise more old farts back home." The knight said with a playful remark that didn’t match his status, scratching his platinum hair in a slightly annoyed manner. "Ah, these stiff folks, won’t even entertain the guests properly... I’ll need to send them back to the Alchemy Research Institute for refurbishment."

Matthew looked up in surprise.

"Please forgive me, Cousin Karen, I hope you don’t feel offended by my words." Sir Friedman apologized to his cousin: "The room is a bit small, and the servants are not quite professional..."

"In such a strict place as the First University, it’s challenging to have a spacious living room and well-trained servants... It’s especially difficult to have a spacious living room. When you’re under the strong prohibition of the First University, very few people can use advanced space magic skills."

"Besides, the university rules are very strict, they don’t allow us to bring our own servants, so we had to use these mannequins instead."

Matthew wore a look of realization, repeatedly shaking his head, signaling no problem.

A servant brought a high-necked glass bottle and two Burgundy cups, the bottle filled with a sticky red liquid.

Another servant brought a high-backed chair decorated with a badge, took Matthew’s coat, and quietly left the room.