"Twenty nightkin total were disposed of," Minwoo said in his usual soft, low tone. "I've sent the reagents from the last hunt for analysis..."

As he continued with his report on the results of the latest hunt, he discreetly observed his master's lavish office. The Van Helsings were a renowned clan of nightkin hunters; his family had been serving them for generations. Minwoo had been raised to be a steward and personal guard to his master's eldest child.

Minwoo's upbringing had been strict and at times brutal. Nothing short of excellency had been acceptable, and he had risen to the challenge. His mother had made sure he knew to serve his betters, not stand with them. His father had beaten—at times literally—any weaknesses out of him. By the time his magic had manifested, Minwoo could take anything without complaint. Now Minwoo's stony face and chilling glare could scare even the bravest hunters, despite his relatively delicate features.

He finished his report and bowed, a small crease forming at the waist of his otherwise pristine suit. He straightened up again, his expression not shifting a fraction, then stepped out of the room. The steward didn't miss the way the other servants gave him sidelong glances as he walked past, his hands neatly folded behind his perfectly straight back. They saw him as ruthless and arrogant.

Minwoo didn't care. Their opinions didn't matter.

The night air was cool against his skin as he stepped out into the estate's gardens, the black of his hair and suit blending in with the darkness. His gaze settled on his charge, standing near the flower beds, and his mouth softened imperceptibly, his stiff shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

"I'm done reporting to your father," he murmured as he stepped closer. He answered to the head of the family, but this was where his loyalties truly lay. "I'm yours for the rest of the night."

His parents would've frowned at his choice of wording, for daring to imply anything untoward. But he had never, not once, been untoward. He knew his place.