Chapter 178: How Are You Going to Make It Up to Me?

Chapter 178: Chapter 178: How Are You Going to Make It Up to Me?

Chapter 178: How Are You Going to Make It Up to Me?

"Small fry, that’s what you are."

The words landed lightly, but Vera Sable understood exactly what Cyrus Calder meant.

Her expression stiffened.

She had actually regained part of her awareness long before everything ended. The problem was that the strange rush she had experienced after drinking Cyrus’s blood had overwhelmed whatever good judgment remained.

It reminded her of the first time she had tasted his blood.

That same pull had sunk straight into instinct, bypassing reason and making everything else feel less important.

This time, though, the effect had been much stronger.

Vera suspected Cyrus’s blood was already unusually attractive to her because of his Frostborn nature. Add in whatever unstable condition he had been suffering from after running low on suppressants, and the result had become something she had never experienced before.

At some point, she had even convinced herself that the whole situation would not be a big deal.

She had seen enough reckless people make bad choices to think she understood how these things worked.

Apparently she did not.

Reality had been much less flattering.

What Vera had considered overwhelming turned out to be barely enough to slow Cyrus down once control shifted.

By the time she lost the advantage, she had learned that difference very clearly.

Cyrus had shown absolutely no mercy.

Vera’s golden eyes narrowed.

That alone made his smug little insult much harder to answer.

If she had actually managed to overwhelm him the way Rhea or Daphne apparently could, then maybe she could have thrown the insult back at him.

Instead, she had been the one left completely exhausted.

That made "small fry" painfully accurate.

Cyrus calmly returned his attention to the fish in pickled mustard broth.

He had only said those words to annoy her.

Judging by Vera’s expression, it worked perfectly.

He checked the time.

It was almost four in the afternoon.

The portion in front of him was still large, and even though it had cooled during everything that happened, it tasted surprisingly good.

Cyrus lifted another bite.

Then, out of basic politeness, he glanced toward Vera.

"Do you want some?"

Vera stared at him.

She did not answer.

Strangely enough, she was not hungry.

That itself felt unusual.

Bloodborn could draw nourishment from blood, and Vera had heard older members of her family claim that certain rare biological substances could leave the body feeling unusually full afterward.

She had always treated those stories as exaggerations.

Now she was less certain.

Her body still felt heavy from what had happened, and the idea of food did not interest her at all.

Cyrus, meanwhile, looked as though he had simply finished an exhausting workout and moved on with his day.

That irritated her even more.

Her teeth started to ache.

Not because she was hungry, either.

She simply wanted to bite him.

Cyrus saw that she had no interest in the food and stopped asking.

He lowered his head and continued eating.

That was when Vera moved.

She slid off the bed and went straight toward him.

Cyrus had been keeping part of his attention on her the entire time.

The moment she lunged, he shifted sideways and lifted an arm to block her.

Vera had been aiming for his shoulder.

Instead, her teeth caught his forearm.

Right before biting down, she deliberately retracted her sharp canines.

She wanted revenge.

She did not want to trigger the strange Bloodborn effect and accidentally reward him.

Cyrus frowned as pain shot through his arm.

"Are you secretly a dog?"

Vera said nothing in response.

She bit harder.

Cyrus looked down at her and raised his free hand.

His fingers took the familiar position he used whenever he was about to flick her forehead.

Vera immediately released him.

Cyrus inspected the bite mark on his arm.

Then he looked at the gray-haired school nurse standing in front of him.

"You recovered pretty fast."

Vera froze where she stood.

Cyrus lifted his eyebrows slightly.

Bloodborn stamina could not possibly be that good.

She had looked completely destroyed not long ago.

Maybe the real explanation was much simpler.

Maybe Vera really was just weak.

The thought was visible enough on Cyrus’s face that Vera took an immediate step backward.

She pulled her clothes into order and folded her arms protectively.

"What does that mean?"

Her tone stayed steady, but alarm flashed through her eyes.

Was he thinking about starting something again?

Absolutely not again.

Vera had already learned more than enough for one day.

If things somehow continued, she was genuinely concerned that her body would stop cooperating altogether.

She began calculating the shortest route to the door.

Running too suddenly might be a mistake.

If Cyrus interpreted it as a challenge and followed, Vera had no confidence she could outrun him in her current condition.

She adjusted her clothes once more and forced her voice to remain composed.

"So how are you planning to compensate me?"

Cyrus looked at her.

"The person who started it should be the one compensating the other."

Vera had been slowly drifting toward the entrance.

She stopped immediately.

There was no chance she was accepting that.

"Your blood caused the problem."

Cyrus’s expression became openly puzzled.

"Did I ask you to drink it?"

Vera stared at him.

Somehow, Cyrus had developed a remarkable talent for stepping directly on the one point she least wanted him to touch.

A single sentence from him could ruin an entire line of argument.

Her usual playful attitude, something she had always considered one of her strengths, seemed to become strangely fragile whenever Cyrus was involved.

He tilted his head slightly.

"I’m honestly curious. You knew I was already having trouble because I ran out of suppressants. Why did you still insist on feeding?"

Vera lifted her chin.

"Because I wanted to."

Cyrus gave her a flat look.

That answer sounded exactly like something a spoiled child would say.

He returned to the original subject.

"Then how are you compensating me?"

The apartment became quiet again.

Cyrus did not rush her.

He simply sat back down and kept eating.

Vera remained standing, thinking rapidly.

She knew exactly what kind of problem Cyrus was trying to manage.

The suppressant shortage had left him with a biological reaction he clearly hated.

If medication was not available, then there were other ways people might try to deal with something like that.

A sly glint appeared in Vera’s eyes.

"You just need someone to help you deal with the problem, right?"

Cyrus looked up.

"I can find someone for you."

The instant she finished speaking, Cyrus stood.

Then he started walking toward her.

Vera blinked at him.

"What are you doing?"

Cyrus continued approaching.

"You said you would find someone."

It took Vera a second to understand the implication.

Then her expression changed.

"I did not mean me."

Cyrus said nothing.

The distance between them kept shrinking.

Vera backed away.

For the first time since entering the apartment, genuine nervousness showed clearly in her eyes.

She continued retreating until her back met the wall.

There was nowhere else to go.

"Stop coming closer."

Cyrus tilted his head.

Vera held up one hand.

"I’ll give you the suppressants."

Cyrus stopped immediately.

"That works for me."

Vera stared at him.

So that had been the point.

Cyrus had never intended to do anything.

He had simply been waiting for her to offer the medication.

The realization made Vera even more irritated.

Cyrus had noticed how desperate she had been for the earlier situation not to repeat itself and used that fear against her.

He had gambled that she would rather hand over the medicine than risk another confrontation.

He had been right.

Cyrus sat back down.

"If you’re giving them to me, don’t forget."

Vera glared at him.

Then she opened the bag she had brought from the beginning.

A package of Frostborn suppressants came out.

She tossed it toward him.

Cyrus caught it easily.

So she really had brought the medicine with her.

That meant her visit had never been only about explaining the anonymous report.

Vera had arrived prepared to negotiate.

Cyrus looked at the package, then toward her.

Vera said nothing else.

She opened the apartment door and left.

A moment later, the door closed behind her.

The room became quiet.

Only Cyrus remained, along with a messy bed and the half-finished meal on the table.

He studied the suppressants.

The supply would last about a week.

That was better than nothing.

Still, the entire situation left him with another problem.

Suppressants were clearly not a permanent solution.

If anything, relying on them for too long might be making the rebound worse whenever he suddenly stopped.

Cyrus frowned at the thought.

Back when he still lived under Isolde’s control, he did not remember his body becoming this difficult to manage.

Maybe his memories were incomplete.

Maybe the environment had been different.

Or maybe years of continuous medication had changed how violently his Frostborn biology reacted when the suppression disappeared.

Whatever the explanation, this could happen again.

A delayed shipment.

A sudden shortage.

A lost prescription.

One bad week was enough to turn an ordinary day into a disaster.

This time Vera had been involved.

Next time it could happen somewhere much worse.

Cyrus looked at the package in his hand.

He needed another plan.

Not immediately, at least.

For now, the medicine solved the problem.

But sooner or later, he would have to figure out a way to manage his biology without depending completely on pills.

The thought alone gave him a headache.

Today’s ridiculous experience had at least taught him that much.

Cyrus let out a quiet sigh.

"This really is a mess."