Slowly, I opened my eyes.

  ?My eyelids didn't feel heavy anymore. For the first time in years, the crushing weight in my chest was gone. It felt like I had actually slept—truly slept—without the background noise of New York traffic or the anxiety of a looming rent deadline.

  ?I took a long, deep stretch. It felt amazing. My joints didn't creak like rusted gears anymore. For a brief moment, I let myself sink back into the plush pillows, letting the peace wash over me.

  ?Wait…

  ?The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. I snapped my eyes open and bolted upright.

  ?Where the hell am I?

  ?I wasn't in my cramped, moldy apartment in Queens. I was in a room so luxurious it felt like a movie set. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the New York skyline—the kind of view I used to look up at from the street while delivering cold fries to people who didn't even know my name.

  ?Anxiously, I slid out of bed. The floor was cold marble, but strangely, it didn't bother me. As I walked down a staircase that probably cost more than my entire tuition, my eyes darted between the massive windows and the abstract paintings on the walls.

  ?The living room at the bottom was even more intimidating. A TV the size of a billboard, a leather armchair that looked softer than a cloud, and a black, modern kitchen that looked like it belonged on a spaceship.

  ?Damn it, I thought, touching the sleek counter. Selling just the coffee machine could have gotten me through a month of expenses back then...

  ?I caught my reflection in the darkened window. It was still me. No reincarnation. No Isekai. Just... me.

  ?But as I looked closer, something was different. My shoulders looked broader, my posture straighter. My skin, usually pale and sickly from night shifts, looked... pristine.

  ?I looked down. I was wearing a bathrobe—high-quality, warm, and expensive. The kind of silk only the top one percent ever gets to feel against their skin. And underneath? Nothing but silk boxers.

  ?Gulp.

  ?Did I finally run into a rich guy who’s not interested in girls?

  ?The memories started to trickle back. The rain. The burst tire. The child jumping into the road. I remembered lunging for him, the blinding white lights of the truck, and then... nothing.

  ?If the truck hit me, why aren't I in a hospital? Is this the afterlife? Do they have 4K TVs in heaven?

  ?A blurry image flashed in my mind—a golden light, a haughty voice calling me a 'Hero'. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. Whatever this was, I needed to get out. Now.

  ?I turned toward the massive double doors at the end of the foyer. My mind raced with thoughts of the truck, the child, and that impossible voice.

  ?Just as I reached for the handle, a sharp, rhythmic sound echoed through the silent penthouse.

  ?Knock. Knock. Knock.

  ?I froze, my hand hovering over the cold metal.

  My heart raced, but it felt... heavy.

  ?Instead of the frantic fluttering of panic, each beat was a slow, thunderous thud that shook my entire chest. THUD... THUD... THUD. It felt less like a heart pumping blood and more like a piston forcing sludge through my veins. The pressure was intense, making my vision pulse at the edges.

  ?Knock. Knock. Knock.

  ?The sharp sound cut through the heavy rhythm of my body. I gasped, clutching my chest. Why was it so loud? Why did a simple knock sound like a gavel slamming down on a judge's desk?

  ?I took a deep breath and pulled the door open.

  ?The man stood there like a war machine.

  ?His massive frame filled the entire doorframe. His skin was deep and rich, contrasting sharply with the long, intricate braids that fell elegantly over his shoulders. Clad in a charcoal-black suit that radiated authority, he looked less like a visitor and more like a high-end enforcer for a world I didn’t belong to.

  ?Behind his dark sunglasses, I felt a gaze that was cold, clinical, and heavy.

  ?I blinked, my first instinct being one of pure embarrassment. I looked down at my exposed chest and the silk robe, suddenly feeling very small. I grabbed the lapels of the bathrobe, pulling it tighter against my chest.

  This must be the guy, I thought. The one who owns this place.

  ?“I don’t know what happened between us,” I managed to stammer, trying to sound braver than I felt. “But I have no idea how I came here or why. I'll be leaving now. Good day, sir.”

  ?I tried to sidestep him, but before I could even take a full stride, his hand slammed against the wall beside my head.

  ?THUD.

  ?The sound was muffled but heavy, vibrating through my skull. He didn't even look like he was trying.

  ?“Sit.”

  ?His voice was a deep, vibrating baritone—exactly what you’d expect from someone built like a tank. Somewhere deep down, I’d hoped for the opposite. Maybe a high-pitched, squeaky voice would have made him less terrifying.

  ?“I… I have things to—”

  ?He didn’t say anything. He didn't need to. He just tilted his head slightly, and the sheer pressure of his presence forced the words back down my throat.

  ?“Okay. I’ll sit,” I muttered, retreating back into the room.

  ?He closed the door with a final, heavy click and followed me inside. He stood in the center of the luxurious living room, looming like a predator in a palace.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  ?"Who turned you?" he asked. His tone was flat, as if he were asking for the time.

  ?"Turned me? What are you talking about?" I snapped, the frustration finally overriding my fear. "Look, the last thing I remember is the truck’s lights and a kid. What happened to the truck? Is the boy okay? That’s all I want to know!"

  ?The man remained unmoved. "A report was filed. An unauthorized transformation in Sector 4. Intersection of 5th and 52nd. Your profile fits the description perfectly. I can feel your signature as well. Now, I will ask you one last time: Who is your Sire? Why did they turn you?"

  ?"I don't know any Sires! I'm a student!" I stood up, but a sudden wave of dizziness—no, not dizziness, but a sharp, burning thirst in my throat—made me stumble. "I should be in a hospital. Why am I here?"

  ?He watched my stumble. "Interesting. You don't even know what you've become." He checked a sleek, silver watch on his wrist. "Stay here. Do not open this door. I’m going downstairs to verify the reservation details. Do not even think about running."

  ?He turned toward the door, pausing only to cast one last glance over his shoulder. "If you try to leave, Kang Eun-Woo, you know what happens. Understand?"

  I froze, drenched in cold sweat. How did he know my name?

  ?I just watched him leave, the heavy door locking with a sharp electronic chirp.

  ?Alone in the silence of the penthouse, I didn't wait. My instincts, sharper than they had ever been, screamed at me to run. But as I rushed to the massive windows and looked down at the street below, my heart—the one that wasn't beating—sank.

  ?I was at least fifty stories up. New York looked like a toy city, and the ground was a very long, very fatal drop away.

  ?Still... that guy seems more dangerous than anything I’d faced on the streets.

  ?Taking a deep breath, I looked down at the street below once more. Jumping between balconies seemed like some bullshit straight out of an anime, the kind of stunt that would normally end with me as a red smear on the pavement. Yet, something deep inside me—something primal—was whispering that I could actually pull it off. My muscles felt like coiled springs, buzzing with a strange, dark electricity.

  ?Either way, a fifty-story drop feels safer than sticking around with that monster.

  ?“Okay, okay,” I whispered to myself, balancing on the edge of the railing. “I can do this.”

  ?“Can you?”

  ?“Gah!” I yelped, nearly toppling over the railing in shock.

  ?The same deep, vibrating voice appeared right behind my ear. I spun around, my heart—the one that refused to beat—thudding against my ribs in a purely psychological panic.

  ?Are you kidding me?

  ?“Didn't—didn’t you just say you were going downstairs?” I stammered, backing away from the ledge.

  ?“Sit.”

  ?Damn, this guy really loves that word.

  ?I didn't argue this time. I sat back on the plush couch, feeling like a caged animal. He stood over me, his presence heavy and suffocating, watching me like a hawk deciding which part of the mouse to eat first.

  ?“The room,” he started, his gaze piercing through those dark glasses. “It was booked in your name.”

  ?“Huh? My name?” I let out a dry, incredulous laugh. Before this, I was a student at one of the best universities in the world, yet I was struggling just to pay rent and buy a gallon of milk. “Sir, even if I sold everything I owned—my bike, my clothes, my organs—I couldn't afford to rent this place for a single hour.”

  ?“You didn't need to tell me that,” he replied coldly. His eyes flicked over my cheap, confused expression that didn't match the $3,000 robe I was wearing.

  ?He pulled a chair over, sitting directly in front of me so close our knees almost touched.

  ?“I’ll ask again. Who turned you?”

  ?The confusion and the sheer exhaustion of the last few hours finally snapped something inside me. I was tired of being pushed around—by Professor Miller, by shitty customers, and now by this guy.

  ?“I’ll ask you back,” I shouted, standing up despite the fear. “What the hell do you mean by that? Who turned me into what? I was hit by a truck! I should be dead! I should be in a morgue!”

  WHAM.

  ?A fist connected squarely with my right cheek. The world tilted violently as the impact knocked me backward into the plush cushions. It was a heavy blow, the kind that should have shattered my jaw into dust and sent teeth flying across the room.

  ?As I writhed, clutching my face instinctively, a realization dawned on me through the shock.

  ?It didn't hurt.

  ?Well, not as much as it should have. Instead of blinding agony, there was just a dull, distant throb. Like I’d bumped into a doorframe rather than been punched by a heavyweight boxer.

  ?He didn't give me time to process it. He reached out, his hand engulfing the collar of my silk robe, and hauled me forward until his nose was inches from mine. I could feel the unnatural cold radiating off him, like standing next to an open freezer.

  ?I waited to feel his breath on my skin as he spoke.

  ?There was nothing.

  ?He’s... he’s not breathing.

  ?“I’ll ask you one last time,” he hissed, his voice grinding like stones against concrete. “Who turned you?”

  ?“I told you!” I shouted back, staring desperately into the black abyss of his sunglasses. “I don't know what you’re talking about! I just wanted to go home!”

  ?He stared at me for a long, silent moment, searching my eyes for a lie that wasn't there. Finally, he released me, shoving me back into the seat with a grunt.

  ?He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a device—a black, rugged flip phone that looked like it belonged in the early 2000s. He began pressing buttons, his movements stiff and precise.

  ?The call connected instantly. He didn't look at me as he spoke.

  ?“This is Enforcer Vaughn. I have a situation in Sector 4. It’s a Newborn. And he’s... clueless.”

  ?A pause.

  ?"Yes. No. I don't think so. It appears spontaneous. Yes, I understand."

  ?Vaughn ended the call, the device clicking shut with a mechanical finality. He turned back to me, looming close enough that I could see the fine, expensive weave of his suit. I tensed, preparing to fight for whatever was left of my life, but he simply sat back on the coffee table, his movements heavy yet fluid.

  ?"Whoever turned you... or however this happened... it's clear you have no idea what's going on," he said, his voice dropping into a calmer, almost professional tone. “About your question: The kid is fine. You saved him."

  ?I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. He's alive. But it also meant it was all real.

  ?"Now," Vaughn continued, leaning forward. "I'm here to explain what happened to you and what comes next."

  ?He paused, letting the silence of the penthouse settle around us.

  ?"Kang Eun-Woo. From today, you are no longer human. You are a Vampire."

  ?"Huh?"

  ?I stared at him. Blankly.

  ?This man—this tank-like figure who looked like he could crush a bowling ball with one hand—had just said the most absurd thing I’d heard since arriving in New York. I searched his face for a twitch, a smirk, a sign that this was some twisted reality TV show.

  ?There was nothing. His expression was as dead serious as the "shattered jaw" I was supposed to have.

  ?A prank? I thought. Is he a professional larper? Or maybe...

  ?It was far more likely that this guy was delusional. Suffering from some kind of psychosis that made him believe in urban legends while wearing Armani suits.

  ?"Man... I'm so sorry for you," I muttered, my voice dripping with sincere, awkward condolences.

  ?"It may sound absurd," Vaughn continued, completely ignoring my pity. "But you have to believe me."

  ?"Oh, I believe you," I lied through my teeth. I believe you have a tumor the size of a baseball pressing on your frontal lobe.

  ?"Good," he said firmly. "Because as a new member of our kind, you have obligations."

  ?"Obligations?" I blinked. "Are you telling me that even vampires have... what? A homeowner's association? A community board?"

  ?"Yes. We have laws. First, you must register as a new member. We need to know who is among us to maintain the Masquerade. Second..." He adjusted his cufflinks. "...you’ll have to work."

  ?My jaw actually dropped this time.

  ?"Work?"

  ?I couldn't help it. A dry, cynical smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

  ?Even being a creature of the night, an immortal bloodsucker in the 21st century, wouldn't save me from the grind. Whether you're a delivery driver or a vampire, New York makes sure you pay your dues.

  ?"I see. Sounds... reasonable," I said, deciding to play along with the crazy muscle-man. "How do we do this?"

  ?"You accepted that easily," Vaughn noted, sounding almost suspicious.

  ?"Of course. Hearing it from a man like you... it's persuasive."

  ?Persuasive enough to keep me seated until I can find the fire escape and call a psychiatric hospital, I thought.

  ?"Good. That makes things easier."

  ?Vaughn stood up, buttoning his suit jacket with a sharp, crisp motion. He gestured carelessly toward a closet near the bathroom.

  ?"There are clothes in there. Put them on. We leave in five minutes."

  ?"Wait," I asked, hesitating as I clutched the silk robe. "Where are we going?"

  ?Vaughn walked to the door, pausing just as his hand touched the handle. He glanced back, his expression unreadable behind those dark glasses.

  ?“To Headquarters, of course.”