But she didn’t want to completely lose her mind and beco a complete lunatic.
No.
I’ve been struggling here for so many years, for what?
Isn’t it all to avoid becoming such a monster?
I’ve held on for so long, how can I fail at the last mont!!?
"Give , blood..."
The mind was in utter chaos.
Yet at such a critical juncture, her thoughts beca clearer.
It’s not over yet, there’s still a chance!
Eliza knew clearly, who was the only person she could plead with now.
"Herbert, give !"
"Save ..."
She humbly begged the unseen Paladin behind her, hoping he could save her.
As long as Herbert could give her so blood, temporarily suppress the Thirst for Blood Syndro, just a little relief would be enough.
Really, just a little would be enough!
"Give your, blood..."
At this mont, Eliza’s words began to falter, barely forming complete sentences.
She was fighting with will and instinct.
This was remarkable.
In this world, there is a saying—"A vampire’s hunger is a true hell."
In the past, many people were turned into vampires for various reasons, forced to beco one of them.
In the beginning, most people were unwilling to accept such a tragic fate, they resisted the instinct to feed, unwilling to fall.
They tried to overco instinct with willpower.
But in the end... ninety-nine percent did not last till the end.
They either succumbed to desire and beca one of the vampires, or ended themselves before completely breaking down.
The desire to feed, rooted deep in the soul, is unimaginably terrifying to most people.
And now Eliza maintaining her will without breaking down is already admirable.
Because she’s not just any vampire, but a Legendary Level vampire who thirsted for blood for hundreds of years.
The desire she feels at this mont is unimaginable to ordinary people!
"...blood, blood."
But clearly, she might not hold out for much longer.
"..."
Herbert watched Eliza’s pitiful form, defiantly struggling, his eyes downcast, his lips slightly curled, gently shaking his head.
"What a tragic and... well, admirable scene."
He looked at Eliza’s dress, nodding critically, adding a remark.
"This scene is truly moving."
As for what exactly moved him... that is not convenient to reveal.
Moreover, regarding Eliza, Herbert would of course step in at the last mont to help.
Emotionally speaking, there’s no enmity between the two, Herbert certainly doesn’t wish for Eliza to break down completely.
Although there are so "interest disputes," dealing in so illegal blood products, their private relationship is fairly decent.
Rationally speaking, Eliza is his prisoner to supervise and reform.
As a righteously-minded Prison Warden, he should certainly not neglect the inmates’ suffering but instead proactively help.
Both emotionally and rationally, Herbert would intervene, not letting her beco a lunatic.
However!
Until this mont, Herbert still showed no intention of stepping in to help.
He was still waiting.
For the timing, just slightly off.
It wasn’t yet the perfect mont!
The emphasis of "helping at the last mont" isn’t on "helping," but on "last mont."
It’s the tiless truth that "providing fuel in snowy weather" is always better than "adding splashes to brocade."
Help too early, and others might feel your presence unremarkable, and not appreciate your kindness.
Help too late, and everything may be too late.
How to grasp the perfect timing is key to "maximizing gratitude."
The current situation is suitable for intervention, but it still lacks a tiny bit of temperature.
There’s still a need to maintain tension—to truly seize the initiative.
On another note, Eliza hasn’t yet spoken the words he wants to hear.
"Eliza, I can indeed help you, and I will help you, but don’t you think there’s sothing missing right now?"
Herbert placed his hand on Eliza’s calf, his fingertips gently gliding over the rare spider silk stockings, giving them a pinch.
Eliza, all her attention on resisting desire, showed no reaction to his frivolity, only her body instinctively shivered a bit.
Herbert felt the silky smoothness, licked his lips, and softly spoke: "I don’t understand, just how much do you like ... or should I say, my blood?"
Is it really that delicious?
So intoxicating.
Eliza certainly couldn’t further explain—Herbert didn’t need her to anyway.
"How should you speak when asking for help? I don’t need to teach you that, do I?"
He grabbed the smooth but slightly cool slender leg, softly said: "Moreover, I feel you still don’t respect enough."
"At a ti like this, you won’t even say ’please’ to ."
The white-haired Prison Warden spoke in a Godfather reference no one else could understand, chuckled twice, whispering to the prisoner.
"Alright, Eliza, pray to ."
The gentle voice flowed into Eliza’s ears, Herbert’s voice at this mont seed incredibly distinct.
Overwhelming all desires, directly reaching her heart.
"It’s ti to let go of everything, abandon unnecessary worries."
"Earnestly pray to ."
"Entrust everything to , in return, I will save you, grant you what you desire... everything."
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