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I went to my room and lay down on the bed, the soft mattress cradling me as I tried to shake off the lingering thoughts from earlier.

I had encountered many women like her in my previous life after passing college still thinking about the professor.

So I had dated several women , each one resembling her in some way.

I understood their weaknesses all too well and knew precisely how to bring them to their knees.

I planned to break this one slowly, savoring each moment with her while heightening her frustrations.

Eventually, she would do anything I desired.

Women like her often seemed too stern for their own good; they had never tasted the absolute pleasure a man could bring, and I intended to exploit that to my advantage, turning her very rigidity into my tool.Just taking her would be easy but I already had the painslut at home also I was planning something for her daughter, so one needed different flavour in life to truly appreciate it.

I felt no real emotions for her though; to me, she was merely a means to an end—a way to sway her husband to my side.

Once I achieved my goal, she could easily be discarded like a broken toy.

However, I was now more inclined to offer her a glimmer of hope, allowing her to live a seemingly normal life after I was done with her.

But deep down, I would know that she would always return to me of her own accord, a little plaything on the side.

Just the thought of it stirred something primal within me, igniting a fire that I struggled to contain.

But for now, it was time to get serious. Her breaking would have to come after my awakening; that was my primary goal, not her. The thought of my impending transformation consumed me, pushing all other distractions aside.

I knew the head was assessing me, evidenced by his decision to assign her as my instructor.

In what way he would judge my progress, I wasn't sure, but I hoped he would be pleased with what I would ultimately show him.

He seemed a powerful figure in the house, and having him on my side could strengthen my hold on the family and solidify my position.

I couldn't afford to return empty-handed; this was the moment that would shape my future.

After resting for a bit, I heard a knock on the door.

"Do you wish to have something to eat, my prince?" came Vasen's voice, breaking through my thoughts.

One did not need to feed on blood once they possessed silver blood, as I had come to realize. The heart's blood of another could refine my essence further, but it weakened the donor, which was why I had stopped my mother from doing so.

I hadn't eaten any human food for a long time; I simply hadn't felt like it. But today, for some strange reason, the sight of that stern woman reminded me of my college days—the late nights spent studying, the laughter shared with friends over simple meals, the thrill of youthful romance.

"Do you have something like noodles?" I asked, the idea of comfort food oddly appealing.

"Yes, my prince. Which kind would you like?" came Vasen's reply, his tone respectful yet eager to please.

"Simple, spicy, a bit chewy," I said, imagining the satisfying texture and flavors.

"As you say, it will be here shortly," Vasen assured me before departing, leaving me to my thoughts once more.

As I sat there, lost in contemplation, there was another knock, and Vasen stepped in after I gave my permission.

He carried a steaming bowl of noodles, the tantalizing aroma wafting through the air and captivating my senses.

The bowl was elegantly crafted, white in color, a striking contrast to the rich, inviting red-brown broth, which shimmered with hints of oil and was speckled with vibrant green herbs and bright red chili flakes.

The sight was almost artful, a masterpiece of culinary delight.

"Here you are, my prince," Vasen said, placing the bowl before me with a slight bow, his expression one of quiet pride.

I leaned forward, the steam rising like an ethereal veil, enveloping my face in warmth.

The noodles glistened, thick and slightly curled, each strand perfectly cooked, promising the delightful chewiness I craved.

Tiny bits of vegetables peeked out from beneath the surface, their bright colors contrasting against the deep broth—slices of scallions, julienned carrots, and perhaps a few crunchy bean sprouts, each adding a splash of life to the dish.

As I picked up the chopsticks, anticipation built within me.

The first bite was nothing short of divine.

The noodles slipped smoothly into my mouth, their texture yielding perfectly to my teeth, a gentle resistance followed by a burst of flavor.

The heat of the broth enveloped me, a spicy warmth tingling on my tongue, with savory notes dancing alongside subtle hints of garlic and ginger.

Each mouthful brought comfort, reminding me of simpler times, of camaraderie and carefree days.

I savored the moment as Vasen excused himself, and I found myself musing about the days gone by.

I didn't consider myself a nostalgic person, nor did I dwell on the past. I preferred to live in the moment.

My life in this world hadn't been anything short of remarkable, leaving little to regret.

Yet, a part of me missed the simpler days of humanity, a surprising realization as I relished the noodles.

Perhaps it was the calming effect of my violent thoughts—the departing gift before leaving had worked wonders, and I finally felt in control.

After finishing the bowl, I enjoyed the last bite before setting it aside. What could one do if not rest after a satisfying meal? I closed my eyes, embracing the calm before the storm.