Reborn as a Vampire in a Dying World: Blood, Power, and Pleasure
Chapter 35: House Special

Chapter 35: House Special

As the bartender opened the bottle, Corven glanced at Rose, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Well... you seemed more hesitant when we did it before," she pointed out, her tone playful yet honest.

Corven laughed, shaking his head lightly. "Let’s just say I’m in the mood now, unlike before."

The bartender leaned forward and poured the drink smoothly, the thick, dark liquid filling the glasses with a soft glug. The scent was rich—iron-heavy, a little sweet, undeniably fresh. This was the kind of mix that came with a warning label.

Rose picked up her glass, smirking. "Are you sure you’re not just jealous?"

"Jealous?" Corven raised an eyebrow. "You mean that bastard who tried hitting on you?"

He grabbed his glass in a practiced motion, fingers curling around it like someone who’d done this a hundred times before. He might’ve been a vampire for only a few days, but he hadn’t forgotten the muscle memory of a life spent drinking.

"Replace jealousy with ticked off," he said, "and you’d be right."

Rose tilted her head, eyes narrowing with amused curiosity. "I didn’t see that in your memories."

Corven smiled. "Then I’ll take that as a blessing."

A light cough from the bartender interrupted their banter, pulling their attention back.

"How about you two continue your talk after trying the drink?" he suggested with a crooked grin. "Might make the conversation more interesting."

Corven nodded, lifting his glass as he swirled the contents. The viscosity clung to the sides like syrup—denser than wine, darker than blood.

"Cheers, then," he said, a hint of hesitation in his voice. He wasn’t sure what kind of aftereffects to expect from a drink like this.

"Good luck to us," Rose replied, raising her glass in return.

They clinked them together with a soft chime, then downed the liquid in one smooth go. It slid down their throats like silk, warm and satisfying.

– Blood (50 Units)

’Fifty...? That’s impressive. This has some serious potency.’

"How is it?" the bartender asked, polishing another glass as he watched them with quiet interest.

"It’s great!" Rose said first, licking her lips. "It tastes just like a human, but with this... subtle hint I can’t quite place."

"You’ve got a sharp tongue," he nodded. "And you?" He turned to Corven.

"It’s good. Really good," Corven replied. "Filling too—way more than a standard human."

The bartender nodded, pleased. He grabbed the bottle and poured them another round. "This one’s good for five glasses total, so drink up."

Corven smiled faintly, glad to know there was more where that came from. "About that ’spice’ part you mentioned earlier..."

"Yeah, not really feeling anything yet," he added, rolling the glass lightly in his palm.

"Same here," Rose said. "Tastes amazing, but no kick so far."

"It’ll come," the bartender chuckled. "Second glass usually gets things moving."

Corven gave him a sidelong look, playful but curious. "Where do you even source something like this?"

Fifteen units of blood wasn’t just impressive—it was borderline magical.

’Fifteen silver for a drink that gives this much blood? That’s wild. If he’s got a reliable source, I need in.’

"House secret," the bartender replied with a wink. "Come back when you’re more than just freshbloods."

Corven rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Fine. Be that way."

"Less talking, more drinking," Rose chimed in, raising her glass again.

They clinked their glasses a second time.

Another smooth drink. Another warm burn that lingered on the way down. It was rich, intoxicating, and had that same rush as your first taste of real blood after turning.

– Blood (65 Units)

Then, without warning, a tingle sparked down their spines.

A memory hit them.

Flashes of battle—fields soaked in blood, swords clashing under moonlight, cries of victory and agony. The blood belonged to a veteran warrior, someone who had survived too many wars to count. And then, right at the end, the most vivid moment—the passionate embrace of a woman in a one-night stand. The warmth, the hunger, the final high before the curtain dropped.

"Woah..." Corven muttered, blinking. "That was... something."

"Fairly mixed bag," Rose chuckled, still reeling from the rush of foreign emotion.

Neither of them realized it yet, but the last remnants of that memory—especially the emotions—were still weaving into them. Heat. Longing. Frustration. Need.

The spice had finally kicked in.

"One last pour?" the bartender offered, clearly enjoying their reactions.

Corven handed over his glass, eyes half-lidded from the memory-induced haze.

’Well... this might actually help me finish the quest faster.’

’I just hope I don’t completely go feral in the process.’