My Stepmom Is A Vampire & Her Entire Bloodline Wants To Breed Me Chapter 169: Hell in Matthew’s Eyes

Matthew could see and feel everything. The fire crawling over his skin like hungry hands, the chorus of screams around him, the pleading voices begging for release.

And standing among the crowd of the damned was his father, laughing as if the two of them had simply run into each other on the street.

His father’s body was half bone and lting flesh, yet Matthew knew him imdiately. The creature grabbed his shoulder with a wet grip.

"I knew you would end up just like ," he said with a crooked grin.

"Pretending you were better. Acting righteous. You stabbed in the back just because I hit that whore."

He shook Matthew’s body, forcing him to face the horror. His voice refused to co out because of the shock and sick realization that he was not better than his father.

"Do you want to see where your precious mother ended up?" his father asked.

His charred face split into sothing like a smile. "Look below you, son."

Matthew’s breath faltered. Slowly, he lowered his gaze. His mother clung to his feet, her skin cracked and burned like the rest of the damned. Her eyes begged for rcy she would never receive.

"No... no, this is a dream. This isn’t real," Matthew whispered.

His father’s laugh exploded in his ears, louder than the screams of the creatures writhing in the flas.

"I told you. We are all going to hell. God cursed us. God abandoned us. No matter what we do, no matter how we try, we still burn in hell!"

"Stop! Stop! Let out.... Let out of here!" Matthew scread as the fire bit deeper into his flesh.

His parents dragged at his legs, trying to pull him further into the abyss. Their voices clawed at him. Their accusations stabbed deeper than any fla.

They mocked him. They blad him. They told him he deserved this.

And sowhere in the middle of breaking, he realized he would never escape.

***

"If that Crest was made by God... does that an everything I saw was real?" Matthew murmured.

He looked exhausted. Dark circles weighed under his eyes. He had not slept since waking from the nightmare. Fear kept him wide awake.

Andrew watched him for a mont before getting out of bed. He walked over, pulled a chair beside Matthew’s, and sat down. He said nothing.

Instead, he reached for an apple on the boy’s bedside table, took a small knife, and quietly peeled the skin away.

"I killed my father," Matthew said at last. His voice shook and steadied at the sa ti.

"He used to beat my mother and sister. He did sothing unforgivable to my sister."

Andrew kept working on the apple. Matthew clenched the white blanket, fighting the anger that rose in him.

"I watched everything," he continued.

"Since I was a child, I knew I had to get stronger because my mother could not. She was too submissive and helpless. She could not do anything even when he raped my sister."

"You hated her?" Andrew asked softly.

"I did. I still do, in a way," Matthew admitted. "Not like I hated him, but... I blad her too."

His eyes burned with a storm of emotions.

"So I killed him," Matthew said. "I dragged his body into the woods. I let the wolves take him so his soul could never return."

"That is the custom of this land?" Andrew asked.

He sliced the apple and placed the pieces neatly on a small plate.

"Yes. When a body is never returned to the earth, the soul never reincarnates."

Matthew exhaled shakily. "I thought our suffering would finally end. But sothing worse happened next as if his soul cursed us."

His expression darkened. He looked down at the blanket as if he were staring at deep winter snow.

The sa snow he despised.

But then sothing sweet was pushed into Matthew’s mouth. He turned his head and saw Andrew holding an apple slice between his fingers.

"Matthew, are you planning to die soon?"

Matthew shook his head imdiately. After seeing hell with his own eyes, dying was the last thing he wanted.

"Then stop worrying about hell. Right now, just focus on living."

"But you’re not angry?" Matthew’s voice rose, shaky with the panic still clinging to him.

"We were thrown into situations that made us evil, made us murderers, and now we’re destined for hell because of that?!"

His breath ca fast and harsh. "What about God making this shitty world in the first place? Shouldn’t They be the ones punished?!"

Andrew didn’t answer at once. He leaned back in the chair and ate another piece of apple, calm as if discussing the weather.

"Matthew, I don’t believe in God. Maybe They exist, maybe the False God is the real one."

He shrugged lightly. "I just don’t care. I only know I need to keep living for as long as I can. Maybe you should do the sa."

Matthew’s shoulders slumped. He covered his eyes with one hand, exhausted.

"This is why I hate being human," he muttered.

"They’re weak. I’m weak. If Lady Isolde turned into a vampire, maybe I could be happy with eternal life."

"Look at Maria. Look at Bianca. Do they look happy to you?" Andrew asked. "Even Isolde hates her own life. Immortality isn’t happiness, Matthew."

He stood and tapped the boy’s shoulder gently. "Happiness is sothing you find on your own."

With that, Andrew went back to bed. He rarely slept without pain these days, so he intended to enjoy his few painless monts with his new body.

Matthew stayed seated, staring at nothing, still unsure what he should do for the future, or even how he should feel.

***

"Yes, Lady Isolde. That’s what the Emblem said," Bianca reported.

This ti she wasn’t using a doll, but a video call through her PC. The Velstrath Orphanage had a good reception because its area was close to the Capital of Lilium, unlike Oprichin, which was practically cut off from the world.

"I see. I will send several of my vampires and coordinate with Ulrich," Isolde replied. "Do nothing reckless until we complete a full investigation."

"Bjorne is known for brute strength, fast adaptability, and ridiculous durability," Bianca said with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Should we really go this far just for half of the Crest?"

"Bianca, simply follow the order I gave you. You don’t need to ask unnecessary questions."

Isolde’s tone was firm, her expression unreadable. "Do not disappoint ."

Bianca straightened imdiately. "Yes, My Lady. I will do exactly as you wish."

Isolde’s lips curved slightly. "Good. How is the boy?"

"Seamus? He’s like any other young adult, but he has his own charm. More mature than most of the youths here, which is a relief."

"Oh? Then who do you prefer? Him or his father?"

The question caught Bianca completely off guard. "My Lady?" She blinked, flustered.

"I know he is the Crimson Nectar, but I’m not interested in sleeping with him."

"I see. Then you like his father more." Isolde chuckled softly. "Isn’t that fortunate? He still has ti left. Why don’t you bring him to our side?"

Bianca didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

As if sensing her hesitation, Isolde said, "I will call you again later. For now, rest."

The call ended. Bianca finally let out the breath she had been holding and relaxed her shoulders.

She did want him to live longer. But bringing him to their side? Impossible.

She sighed quietly.

"That man has his own pride anyway."