Chapter 68 Bloody Love Story: Dracula's Past
Ye Wan had no idea what they were talking about.
After finishing their meal, they walked deeper into the villa, walked up the creaking stairs, passed through the gallery covered with cobwebs, and finally arrived at a hidden door.
The door was hidden behind a thick tapestry, engraved with ancient, flowing golden runes. Youan bent down and observed it intently. "It's a protective spell, very difficult to break."
He looked at Rose: "I know you can find a way to get in, right?"
She nodded and pulled out a rose from her bosom, a deep red, blooming rose.
The golden runes on the door seemed to sense the scent of the rose, and like a stone dropped into a calm lake, the barrier's resistance disappeared, and the flowing light patterns became more and more intense.
Inside the door was an even colder and more silent secret room.
A huge hexagonal coffin carved from a whole piece of flawless transparent crystal stands quietly on the magic circle.
Count Dracula lies there.
"Oh my God, he is so handsome." Ye Wan exclaimed.
Euan didn't look happy.
She immediately changed her tune: "At first glance, he's quite handsome, but when you look closely, he's just so-so."
Yu An's expression finally eased a little.
The Count was not a monster with a green face and fangs. He was unexpectedly handsome, with a face as pale as marble and lifeless. His long black silky hair spread out on the velvet. He was wearing a luxurious black velvet suit with a bright rose pinned to his chest. He had his hands folded on his chest and really looked like he was asleep.
A golden light was flowing slowly on the crystal coffin, completely isolating him from the outside world, and there seemed to be no signs of him waking up.
What's more, the coffin lid and the coffin body fit tightly together, with no signs of being opened.
Ye Wan was surprised: "He really has been sleeping here for over a hundred years. God, he can really sleep."
Youan found a velvet-covered poetry collection next to the coffin. The gold stamping on the cover had become completely blurred, and the pages were yellowed and fragile, looking like they would break at the slightest touch.
The book was written in a cursive handwriting that looked elegant but carried an infinite sadness:
If the moonlight no longer shines in your eyes
Eternity is a curse to me
Roses wither before dawn
I wish to fall into the darkness forever
Attached to the back is a worn sketch showing a girl smiling brightly, standing on the railing of a balcony full of roses, with sunlight shining on her red curly hair.
There is a small signature in the lower right corner: To my little rose - Opheliaâ‘
Ye Wan leaned over to Youan's shoulder and looked at the painting. "Hey, this girl's name sounds so familiar. Have I seen the name Ophelia somewhere before?"
You An looked at her silently and said, "Compared to her name, don't you think the girl in the painting looks more familiar?"
Ye Wan frowned and took another look: "It seems so."
She suddenly realized what was happening, looked at the rose opposite her, and then took a breath: "Isn't this you!"
The girl in the painting has long curly honey-colored hair, and Rose has short hair, but the hair color is the same, and they have the same light blue eyes.
The difference is that the girl in the painting looks pure and innocent, while the rose has a more heroic air.
"Ophelia, Ophelia, where have I heard this name before?" Ye Wan murmured.
Then she remembered, the eve of Shadowmoon, in the cemetery.
That night, the moon was as red as blood. Rows of tombstones revealed hideous outlines in the moonlight, and several old trees stood at the entrance of the cemetery like ghost claws.
Many beautiful roses are placed in front of a weathered and cracked stone tablet. Through the dense moss, you can see that the owner is a girl named Ophelia.
What did Ye Wan say at the time? "This person has been lying here for over a hundred years. Oh, and he's only 18 years old. Poor Ophelia."
......
Ye Wan came back to his senses and looked at Rose, who had an unfathomable expression on her face. Then he smiled dryly, "It's a coincidence, right? There are so many people named Ophelia. The heroine of Harry Potter, no, Hamlet, is also named Ophelia."
Rose spoke slowly: "It's not a coincidence, it's that Ophelia."
Ye Wan grabbed You An's arm and said, "This is bad. It's a hundred-year-old undead ghost. Do you have any way to defeat her?"
You An was silent for a while, then looked at Rose, who was calm and composed across from him. "I guess you are the descendant of her and Dracula."
She clapped her hands: "You guessed most of it right, you really deserve to be..."
She met Youan's eyes and swallowed her words.
"It's what it is." Ye Wan asked curiously.
"As expected of an employee of the Old Oak Tavern." Rose changed the subject.
Ye Wan: "? Isn't your answer too perfunctory?"
"Oh, okay, okay." Rose compromised, "I don't come to this room often. It feels cold and dead here. Let's talk outside."
They returned to the hall, and Rose yelled to the Night Elf, "Send some refreshments."
The night elves stumbled over in a hurry, dragging a teapot, holding a sugar cube jar and biscuits.
Ye Wan glanced at the exquisite bone china teapot, which contained boiling hot black tea.
"This tea smells so good," she exclaimed as she sat on the comfortable leather sofa.
Rose said, "Of course it smells good. This tea has been stored for over a hundred years."
"Ah?" Ye Wan put down the teacup in horror.
"I'm kidding. I bought it at the market on King Street last week. It was only 40 coppers an ounce," said Rose.
You An interrupted their meaningless chatter: "Then, can I know the truth about the matter?"
"Of course, of course." Rose put down her teacup and straightened her clothes. "Let me introduce myself again. I'm Rose Norton. Ophelia is my great-grandmother, and Count Dracula was her former lover."
Rose's eyes moved to the cup of velvet and the notebook.
The cold and silent villa, the sleeping vampire lord, the relics on the desk that carry the ardent love and pain, the past of a hundred years ago rushed towards them like an unsealed tide:
In the rose garden in spring, Ophelia was picking roses in a white gauze dress. It was early morning and the ground was soaked with dew.
A rose thorn pricked her ankle.
It hurt a little, Ophelia frowned and wanted to look down to see what was going on, but was suddenly covered by a tall shadow.
"I got you." Count Dracula suddenly appeared, half squatting to check the injury on her ankle, sunlight streaming in his gilded pupils.
He was clearly a predator, but he was very cautious when touching the girl's ankle, as if he was treating a work of art with reverence.
"Oh, my Lord." Ophelia blushed and whispered softly, "This is not appropriate."
The young vampire lord knelt on one knee to help her put on her pink silk shoes and placed a reverent kiss on her ankle. "Why is it inappropriate, my little rose?"
She happily showed him a bunch of roses and said, "Sir, can I make you a rose cake?"
The scene changed, and the streets were full of rumors about vampires sucking human blood, and the church hospital was full of patients.
Ophelia stepped on him and put a mask on him, and strictly ordered him to fumigate himself with vinegar when he got home. Dracula stood straight, and the arrogant nobleman's face showed helplessness: "I am not human, I can't be infected."
"That won't do." Ophelia said seriously, "I didn't hear that vampires wouldn't be infected when I was in school. What if?"
She smiled and said, "That's good now."
Dracula's handsome face rarely showed a blush: "The streets are full of those horrible rumors, but we..."
Ophelia stopped him from speaking and put her arm around his waist: "You swore to me not to touch the human race. I know everything. There must be other bad guys."
Dracula kissed her joyfully: "My little nurse, Cupid's Day is coming, have you decided on a gift?"
She thought about it carefully and said: "I want a rose that never withers, so that every time I see it, I can think of you."
The scene changes again, this time to Twilight Manor, which was then a magnificent Western-style manor. The clan members come to see Dracula:
"There's intelligence that the human race has assembled vampire hunters, and the royal family has dispatched paladins to exterminate us, but... we didn't kill them!"
Dracula's indifferent face also showed a crack: "I want to negotiate with the human leader. During this period, you should not show up. It's best to run away, the farther the better..."
The negotiations broke down, and the king was determined to wipe out the vampire clan.
"We may not win this battle. Humans have grasped our weaknesses. Holy water, holy salt, silver cross..." Dracula thought.
On the day of Cupid's Day, Ophelia put on her favorite linen dress and tied up her red hair.
Dracula kissed her hair: "Sweet as honey."
Then, a golden light flashed in his eyes, and he placed his fingertips on her brow:
"In the name of Dracula, I command Ophelia Norton to forget everything in this manor, forget the roses and kisses of spring... forget me."
Ophelia's tears were falling and her memories were fading. All those nights of dancing together in the rose garden under the moon had turned into shooting stars tonight.
It disappeared in a flash.
He chanted the spell so softly, as if he was lulling a child to sleep, but his fingers were trembling.
"Marry an ordinary good man, let him bake honey croissants for you in the morning, he will remember that you like roses and hate white star calla lilies, and you will live long enough to have many children and grandchildren and live a happy life."
When the last ray of golden light sank into Ophelia's pupils, Dracula quickly took a step back, as if he was afraid of being burned by the sun.
Ophelia's expression changed from sadness to confusion. She wiped the tears from her face and then looked at Dracula in confusion:
"Who are you?"
"You fell on the mountain path."
It was sunset, and the light and shadows shone through the stained glass windows, dividing into countless beams of light. Ophelia stood in the light.
And he retreated into the shadows.
The black robe wrapped around his trembling hands: "There is a carriage in the courtyard, and the butler will take you home."
A few days later, a wedding took place in a small church in the capital. The bridesmaid exclaimed, "What beautiful roses! I've never seen roses so beautiful before."
The bouquet of flowers has plump buds, and layers of petals stretch out from the center, intertwined and dependent on each other, as if kissed by the morning light, with a delicate silky luster.
The bride Ophelia was holding the bouquet of roses. She was more beautiful than the roses today, dressed in a holy white veil. Suddenly, she burst into tears without any warning.
"Strange." She wiped her cheek.
"I should feel very happy."
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