Title: The Vampire King of Britannia

"Deductive reasoning?"

Winnie and Vincent exchanged puzzled glances.

At this moment in time, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had yet to pen the first pages of what would become the legendary Sherlock Holmes series. A Study in Scarlet did not yet exist, and thus, neither of them had ever heard of the famous detective's so-called "deductive method."

Under the watchful eyes of the household staff, two detectives, and the butler, Lorien cleared his throat and began his explanation:

"Deductive reasoning is a method of drawing specific conclusions from general principles or universal truths. In simpler terms, it involves analyzing observations, formulating hypotheses, and then logically testing those hypotheses through deduction—until we arrive at a verifiable conclusion."

He seamlessly applied this method to the case at hand:

"While the crime scene was staged to appear as a suicide, if we assume instead that the victim was murdered and analyze the wound patterns, we can deduce that this was a homicide. Additionally, based on Jack Arnold's room arrangement and attire, it's clear he was a meticulous man who valued appearances. Even if he had chosen to end his life, he would have done so in a more 'dignified' manner rather than something this crude."

The truth was, Lorien only had a vague understanding of deductive reasoning himself. He had merely overheard discussions about it before. But when one already knows the answer, it becomes much easier to construct a logical sequence in reverse.

At the very least, it was more than enough to impress these laymen.

Winnie, completely taken in, nodded with growing enthusiasm.

She connected the dots in her mind, and suddenly, the case unfolded before her with crystal clarity. It was as refreshing as drinking a cold soda on a scorching summer day.

"So that's how it is!" She clapped her hands together in realization.

But then another question popped into her mind. "But how did you pinpoint the killer?"

Lorien didn't answer her directly.

Instead, his eyes settled on the male servant in question.

His nostrils flared slightly as he sniffed the air.

"The stench of blood on you is too strong," he stated.

The accused man's face turned deathly pale.

Winnie froze. "Blood? You can smell it?"

She hadn't noticed any particularly strong scent, but judging by how the suspect was visibly shaking under Lorien's gaze, she had no choice but to believe him.

A cunning criminal, caught by such a simple yet lethal detail.

Gritting his teeth, the servant's lips trembled.

Finally, after a long silence, he slumped forward and whispered, "I killed Arnold."

The room erupted into hushed, scandalized murmurs.

"It was Ivins?"

"You never really know someone, do you?"

Vincent, who had been spectating for most of the case, stepped forward with practiced ease, reaching into his uniform and retrieving a pair of handcuffs.

"Show me your hands, sir."

His tone was light, almost casual. "At this point, let's not make things harder for yourself."

Ivins' expression was bleak. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with some internal decision, but ultimately, he had no fight left in him. He lowered his hands and allowed himself to be cuffed.

Winnie, her expression sharp, took over questioning.

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I envied him…" Ivins' voice cracked as he tried to cover his face, but with his hands restrained, he could only hunch over in despair.

"He was younger than me, less experienced than me, yet he kept rising through the ranks—winning Mr. Winston's favor, getting promoted again and again, until he was standing at the top, looking down on me. Who's to say he wouldn't have taken the butler's position next?"

Tears of regret dripped onto his lap.

"At first, I only wanted to sabotage him—spread rumors, make him seem incompetent, get him dismissed. But then…"

"Forging a suicide note isn't something that can be done overnight," Lorien interrupted coldly.

At his side, Rudolph's expression became unreadable.

"Society may teach morality," he murmured, almost to himself, "but it is no match for human nature's raw, innate desires. And therein lies tragedy."

Lorien's gaze flicked toward him, an odd look flashing across his face. Where have I heard that before?

With the case essentially closed, all that remained was transporting Ivins to the police station for formal interrogation and sentencing.

Winnie felt deeply satisfied.

She had done good today—justice had been served, order upheld. Jack Arnold's name was cleared, and a murderer would face the consequences.

"We couldn't have done it without you," she said earnestly.

Lorien waved her off. "I got paid. It's only fair I do my job properly. Nothing special."

Vincent, who had gained newfound respect for the detective, offered a friendly nod.

"We should work together more often."

He handed Lorien a calling card.

"If anything comes up, feel free to contact us. Even if there's no case, you should drop by sometime."

Lorien nodded politely. "I'll keep that in mind."

After wrapping things up with the household staff, Rudolph settled his payment.

The butler had not expected the case to be resolved so efficiently—it had saved him a great deal of trouble. Pleased with the results, he even added a generous tip, bringing the total commission to 200 pounds.

For Lorien, this was a fortune.

In his old life, even working tirelessly for over half a year wouldn't have earned him this much—actually, no, that wasn't even possible.

"You are the most professional detective I have ever met."

Lorien grinned, his wallet finally feeling full for the first time. "Much appreciated."

"Shall I drive you back?" Rudolph offered.

"Sure."

However, Lorien had one last task before leaving.

"I need to re-examine the crime scene. Just to finalize the report."

He rejected Rudolph's company, explaining that having others around might interfere with his observations.

Rudolph, now fully convinced of the detective's competence, did not question this.

"Very well. I'll wait outside."

Alone in Jack Arnold's room, Lorien quietly shut the door behind him.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the thick scent of blood. His gaze locked onto the corpse.

It lay motionless, knife still clutched loosely in one hand, the other resting over its chest.

Jack Arnold's half-lidded eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. His dark hair, damp with blood, clung to his pallid skin, which was now turning an unnatural shade of purple.

Lorien stepped forward.

Kneeling beside the body, he pressed his fingertip against the dried blood pooling on the floor.

Nothing happened.

But when he touched the skin—

The sensation from earlier struck again.

A connection.

Something alive—but not quite—lurking beneath the surface.

Once more, fragmented whispers slithered into his ears.

"I… it hurts…"

This time, Lorien did not pull away.

His heartbeat quickened.

Beneath his touch, something stirred.

And for the first time, the hunger surfaced.

A foreign, primal instinct—a desire to spread his bloodline.

To create more of his kind.

This was the first time Lorien had ever felt such a direct compulsion since awakening as a vampire.

Would he do it?

Would he transform Jack Arnold into another of his kind?

He weighed the consequences.

Minutes passed.

Then, he made his decision.

Lowering his hand, Lorien gently traced his fingers over the corpse's face, coaxing its eyes open once more.

Blackened pupils gazed back at him—void of reason, filled with only madness and rage.

Lorien exhaled slowly.

From his wrist, the weeping eye mark opened, veins pulsing with a molten red glow.

His blood boiled.

"Do you wish to stay dead? Or will you rise… as the devil's hand?"