My Stepmom Is A Vampire & Her Entire Bloodline Wants To Breed Me

Chapter 240: Robert The Benevolent

The escape was planned for two days after their meeting, which meant tomorrow was the final calm before everything fell apart. Mark already knew where he would go, assuming he would even get the chance. That night, he wrote a short message using an old code only one person would recognize. His handwriting remained steady despite the weight behind every word.

When he finished, he put the letters and mixed them carefully with the rest of the trash in his bin. After tying the bag, he carried it outside. As expected, one of Robert’s men stood at a distance, pretending to be idle while clearly observing him.

Mark did not react.

He threw the bag into the larger public bin and attached a small, nearly invisible sticker on the outer corner. It was subtle, something ordinary people would overlook. But it was a signal meant for the trash collector who followed a specific route.

It was an old method he and his friend had used during the war. Back then, they were government doctors stationed at sensitive facilities, and communication had to remain hidden from both sides. This system—trash markers and coded notes—had survived even after everything else collapsed.

He had not used it in years.

Now, he had no other choice.

His friend was currently on the government’s most-wanted list, labeled a terrorist for exposing classified experiments to the public. No one knew his location. That anonymity made him the safest ally Mark had left.

If his friend agreed to help, that would be their destination. Not only for himself, but for Bennet.

Still, deep down, Mark knew something. He likely would not make it that far.

The next morning, he went to work as usual. Robert had offered him living quarters inside Latros Manor long ago, but Mark had refused. The place felt suffocating, like living inside the belly of something that could digest him at any moment.

When he entered the laboratory, he immediately sensed something was wrong.

Roanna’s voice echoed through the hall.

"We can use children!" she shouted, slamming a stack of papers onto the metal table.

"I reviewed the report about the white sphere experiment from twenty years ago. The sphere’s color shifts when a human ages, just like paint on a blank canvas."

She inhaled sharply, eyes burning. "Children are pure. If we use them, progress will accelerate drastically."

A few assistants lowered their heads, unwilling to meet her gaze.

Robert stood at the center of the lab, expression calm as ever. "It has only been a month, Roanna. We still do not understand why the cores reject the body in most cases."

She laughed harshly. "And that is precisely why you have been stuck for decades. You refuse to exhaust every available resource." Her voice sharpened. "You are a coward, Robert."

The word hung in the air. For a brief second, Mark saw Robert’s brow twitch.

But the smile remained, cold, and controlled.

"I think you should rest," Robert said smoothly. "You have personally turned over a hundred humans in a single month because you wish to become the perfect vampire."

He paused, gaze steady on her. "It would be wiser to refresh your body before ambition consumes it."

With a slight gesture of Robert’s fingers, his men moved at once. They stepped forward and grabbed Roanna’s arms, forcing her shoulders down in an attempt to restrain her.

It was a mistake.

Roanna’s eyes flared with fury. She wrenched herself free and activated her Bloodstyle without hesitation. The air in the laboratory thickened, then twisted. The ground beneath them split open, and black, fleshy tentacles erupted from the marble floor, writhing like living creatures.

They wrapped around Latros’ men and crushed them mercilessly.

Bones snapped with sickening cracks. The sound echoed across the laboratory as the men screamed, their bodies contorting under the pressure.

"How dare you touch me!" Roanna snarled, her voice layered with authority and madness. "I am the crown princess of Morum! You filthy creatures deserve death for such insolence!"

Worse still, she did not remove their cores. She left them alive, forcing them to feel every fracture, every bone turning to powder beneath her tightening grip. Their screams blended with the sound of splintering skeletons and shattering glass as her tentacles lashed out, destroying equipment, tables, and walls alike.

The doctors fled in terror, scrambling toward the corners of the lab. Mark moved as well, but not blindly.

He slipped behind a collapsed steel cabinet that gave him both cover and a clear view of the confrontation. His heart pounded, but his mind remained sharp.

He needed to see this. He needed to know Robert’s Bloodstyle.

Roanna’s laughter filled the lab, loud and unhinged, echoing against the shattered walls. "I should have done this from the beginning! You are not strong enough, Robert! You never deserved to be the Patriarch of Latros! It should have been my uncle’s seat, no one else’s!"

Her tentacles tore through machinery as if searching for something. Her crimson gaze scanned the room, and when her eyes landed on Mark, her grin widened.

"I only need to take your little dog," she sneered. "I will drag him back and force him to work for me."

Mark’s blood ran cold. Before he could retreat further, a tentacle erupted beneath his feet and coiled around his ankle.

He slammed his cane down on it with all his strength, but it barely slowed the tightening grip. The pressure increased, threatening to shatter bone.

Then Roanna screamed. The sound was sharp and violent.

In an instant, every tentacle vanished.

Mark looked up and saw the same dark appendages now piercing through Roanna’s abdomen, suspending her midair as blood spilled onto the broken tiles. The movement was precise,

Robert stood where he had always been.

Mark’s eyes narrowed. Was this Robert’s Bloodstyle? Or was he hijacking her domain entirely? If so, that suggested a Psyche-type Bloodstyle capable of overriding another user’s control.

It was possible. Psyche users were known to manifest domains that bent reality within a defined space.

Robert’s voice remained steady. "You may leave. I have no need for someone who lacks basic manners. Attacking my colleagues is beneath you."

"Remember, Roanna, you were the one who begged to work with me. The reason you are still standing here is that I allowed it."

He smirked faintly. "It is my will that keeps you alive."

Roanna coughed blood, fury burning in her eyes. She attempted to summon her tentacles again, but each manifestation was severed instantly before it could even reach Robert.

"I will still provide you with the progenitor blood," Robert continued. "Prove your theory independently. If you succeed, return to me. Until then, do not show your face in my domain."

Her jaw tightened, but she finally retreated. Lance followed, his expression unreadable as they disappeared from the ruined laboratory.

Silence fell. Mark exhaled slowly in relief. At least the experiment could proceed with the Progenitor Residuum injections instead of the brutal forced turnings Roanna preferred.

But the relief lasted only a second. ’No. This must end.’

He could not remain here any longer.

He lifted his gaze and met Robert’s eyes.

Robert smiled at him gently. "Are you alright, my friend? Everyone, please rest for today. I will have my men repair the laboratory."

The doctors exhaled in gratitude, thanking Robert repeatedly. They saw a calm leader who had protected them. They were charming and benevolent.

Mark had once seen that too. Now he understood the truth.

Robert had not stopped Roanna out of righteousness. He had given her the progenitor blood because he did not wish to dirty his own hands.

If she succeeded in creating a "perfect vampire" with those children, he would simply take her results and refine them for himself.

He was that kind of man. Cunning and patient. Willing to let others commit atrocities while he remained spotless.