Real.Doc - Part 1 (English Version)

If we wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing here

I woke up in a cozy bed, finding myself in an unfamiliar room. As I tried to piece together what had happened and how I ended up there, a woman entered, and it all clicked - I was with Les, just like old times.

"Good morning, madam," she greeted with a smile. "Feeling any better?"

"I'm starving," I replied, noticing I was still clad in the same rags as before. I breathed a sigh of relief that this time they respected my dignity. In the past, after Les killed me, I often woke up wearing clothes that weren't mine.

"I can imagine. We're preparing a snack, but would you prefer to freshen up first? The masters have set aside some special clothes for you."

Familiar with the routine, I accepted the offer and indulged in a shower, feeling the tension ease from my muscles.

Les kidnaps me, kills me, I wake up in luxury, get new clothes, make a meal, endure his ramblings, and then I'm released - it's a cycle I know all too well.

After the shower, I found myself presented with an old medieval dress as my attire for the day. "You've got to be kidding," I protested.

"Please, I must insist," the woman urged.

Resigned, I donned the dress, and shortly after, the food arrived. Surprisingly, Les was being accommodating this time, allowing me to dine in the comfort of my own room, a stark contrast to our usual gatherings at his ostentatious 18-seat table.

Devouring the meal hungrily, I realized it was the first decent meal I'd had in a while, the snugness of the dress a testament to my indulgence.

Once I finished, the woman inquired, "Are you satisfied?"

"I am," I affirmed.

"Good. The masters request your presence in the living room. They're eager to see you."

Her mention of "the masters" in plural struck me as odd. Despite Ciro living with Les, it was always Les who dictated orders. Had Ciro been promoted?

And despite my initial protest, I had to admit, the dress was surprisingly comfortable and striking, albeit more fitting for another era.

Upon entering the grand living room, I was met with a mixture of astonishment. Miguel's exclamation of "Oh, my mother," and Les' endearment painted a complex picture.

Les was as I remembered, seemingly delighted to see me. Miguel, my beloved vampire, sat on another couch engaged in a game of chess with Les, while Guilherme leaned against the door, exuding an air of aloofness.

"You look divine!" Miguel exclaimed, rising to approach me. However, I instinctively recoiled, signaling him to keep his distance. The memory of his attack still fresh in my mind, his crestfallen expression betrayed a hint of remorse as he complied with my silent request.

"Calm yourself, Lilian. We have much to discuss," Les interjected.

"No, we don't," I retorted.

"It's imperative that you listen to us," Les insisted. "We aren't..."

"All three of you," I interrupted, directing my gaze pointedly at Miguel, "are despicable cowards for conspiring against me like this."

"What? We have no intention of harming you!" Miguel protested incredulously, while Guilherme emitted a derisive snort from the sidelines. Les stepped in to clarify their intentions.

"As I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say... if we wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing here."

"S...Sit down, mother. We need to talk to you," Miguel implored, attempting to diffuse the tension.