Reborn as a Vampire in a Dying World: Blood, Power, and Pleasure
Chapter 55: Three Clans, One Name

Chapter 55: Three Clans, One Name

[Objective: Deepen bond with second progeny 100/100]

[Minor Quest Complete]

[Codex’s Lorebook Granted]

[Lorebook: Grants access to information that is considered as common knowledge in this world.]

The notification rang clear in Corven’s mind, just as Lilian’s breathing evened out beside him, her body finally relaxing into sleep.

"That’s... better than I thought," he murmured, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Compared to everything else he’d earned since arriving here, this was easily the most valuable reward so far.

"No activation requirement either..." he noted, voice low.

He glanced down at Lilian, her flushed face resting peacefully against the pillow. It struck him that he still didn’t know much about her—her past, her clan, or her connection to the baroness. Maybe now... he could change that.

’Lorebook,’ he commanded silently.

The Codex responded instantly, text flowing into his mind like it had been waiting all along.

[Lilian Thorne Heist: Heir and mysterious vampire prodigy of the great Clan Heist that ruled Underzen alongside three other clans. One of the founding clans that formed the original pact with the baroness, establishing the modern Undercity as it exists today.]

Corven frowned. "Hmm... mostly just her family background. So the description wasn’t lying—common knowledge only."

Still, it left him unsatisfied. For something with this much fanfare, the Lorebook had to offer more than basic surface-level facts. There was only one way to test that—keep browsing.

He summoned the Lorebook again, this time with a broader request: information on the three great clans.

[The Three Great Clans: Heist, Crestfall, and Reduvian—clans that govern the Undercity alongside the baroness through a long-standing but strained pact. Each clan holds a territorial domain within Underzen: South, East, and West, respectively.]

"Now that’s more useful," Corven muttered. "But it’s still too thin."

He kept going.

His old instincts kicked in. The kind honed from years as an archaeologist—always searching, always digging. The urge to uncover the truth had never quite gone away. And now, it had a new outlet.

Because here in this world, knowledge truly was power.

[Crestfall: The clan of the East. Patriarch: Leywin Thorne Crestfall. Known for its smaller numbers but exceptional magical capability. Often involved in obscure magical dealings behind closed doors.]

[Reduvian: The clan of the West. Patriarch: Heinrich Thorne Reduvian. The largest of the three in terms of size and military strength. Considered the most dominant clan in direct confrontation.]

[Heist: The clan of the South. Patriarch: Identity unknown. Shrouded in secrecy, though still considered highly dangerous. The existence of their heir, Lilian, was a rare and unexpected leak.]

As the data scrolled past his vision, Corven’s brows furrowed in concentration.

Then he noticed it.

They all had the name Thorne.

A quiet silence filled his head as he stared at the repetition. His fingers moved to his lips, biting a nail out of habit as he ran through the implications.

"It has to be related to the pact somehow..." he muttered.

The more he stared at the repetition of that name, the colder the feeling in his gut grew. Thorne. It wasn’t just a name—it was a thread. Woven into the roots of all three clans. Too common to be chance. Too deliberate to be harmless.

Could it be a shared ancestor? The pact pact? Or maybe the clans weren’t as separate as the map made them seem. If the name was inherited, it meant they were bound in ways few likely understood. Including, perhaps, Lilian herself.

He thought back to his world—where powerful families hoarded secrets like gold, covering them with centuries of half-truths and ceremony. This... smelled the same.

He was still sorting through theories when—

CLICK.

The door cracked open.

Rose peeked in from the hallway, catching his eyes. She didn’t say a word, but the message was clear. He was needed. Now.

The door clicked shut again, leaving him in silence.

Corven sighed through his nose. "So much for a break."

It struck him again—how little time he’d had to breathe. One day he was a man chasing bones beneath desert sand, the next he was building clans and unraveling bloodline conspiracies in a world that never stopped moving. No time to rest. No chance to reflect.

He missed silence. Real silence. The kind that didn’t hum with warnings, systems, or expectations.

Even now, with Lilian beside him, he felt the weight gathering again. Like a storm just beyond the horizon.

He stretched, rolling his shoulders back with a quiet groan. Then he looked at Lilian one more time, sleeping soundly, her hair spilling across the pillow like ink.

He eased off the bed carefully, making sure not to disturb her. With a snap of his fingers, his suit materialized back onto his body, clean and sharp as ever. He adjusted his collar, fixing his tie.

"No rest for the wicked," he muttered with a dry chuckle.

Then under his breath, almost like a prayer:

"But damn, I’d kill for a vacation."

As Corven opened the door, his first instinct wasn’t to greet—it was to protect.

He glanced back briefly at the sleeping Lilian. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, not even for a few minutes. Not with how unpredictable things had become. There was always a risk—ambush, surveillance, retaliation—especially now.

"Get in," he said, stepping aside. "Let’s talk inside."

Rose entered first, followed by Irsted and Trish. Their expressions were tight—serious—but not panicked. There was tension, though. Underneath the calm, their eyes carried something heavier.

Disbelief. Worry. Urgency.

Once the door clicked shut, Rose wasted no time.

"Tell him what you told me."

Irsted gave a curt nod. "The baroness is calling for you. Immediately."

"She’s up north," Trish added. "Big estate. Impossible to miss. You’ll know when you see it."

Corven’s brows furrowed. "She’s asking me?"

"Not just you," Trish said, folding her arms. "She wants you and Lilian both. Today."

That made him pause. His eyes flicked from Trish to Irsted. "Wait—just the two of us? What about you guys?"

Irsted exhaled, clearly not thrilled either. "We’re being sent elsewhere. Different task. Not something we can share."

That answer didn’t sit well, but it tracked. Vague orders. Secrecy. The kind of red flags that usually came right before things blew up.

Corven leaned back against the nearest wall, arms crossed. His gaze sharpened, sifting through possibilities, piecing together what little they’d given him. The baroness’s connection with Lilian had cut off—that much was clear. And now she wanted them delivered, fast.

But it didn’t feel like a summon.

It felt like a containment order.

His mind raced through potential excuses—some way to frame it, deflect it, explain it away. But deep down, he knew the truth.

This was his Bloodfracture ability at work.

’Well, would you look at that... the consequences of my own damn actions.’