"The existence of a hybrid between a human and a vampire has been revealed!"
"...What?" The surprise on Loic’s face was evident; it was sothing that hadn’t happened in millennia.
A hybrid of vampire and human!
’Damn! Now that’s sothing interesting.’ He looks at Silas, about to say sothing... but stops himself. Although a hybrid between a vampire and a human was sothing very rare, he had sothing more important to do right now.
"Let’s go, before the Inquisition hunters show up," he says with a sigh.
Silas, who was expecting a more intense reaction, could only sigh in disappointnt: "He really was a boring man," he said in a whisper, which Loic heard perfectly well.
"..." Loic says nothing and disappears from the scene, not wanting to try his luck, and then that annoying Inquisition general D. reappears.
Silas shakes his head with a sigh and also disappears from the scene.
...
New York, outside the Traanglae Shirtwaisth Company.
Night covered the city with a blanket of moonless clouds. The lights of the skyscrapers flickered above the wet asphalt.
Laura stepped out of the building and stretched lazily, letting out a soft "Hmm~." She welcod the gentle night breeze on her face with a sigh.
"These days have been very boring." She misses her weak and emotionally fragile companion Lucien, who was going to die at any mont... although the weak part is no longer true.
Anyway, what matters is that she now has no one to bother; ti at work seems endless to her.
But because the pay is so good, she doesn’t want to quit. And what about chatting with her coworkers? For Laura, that’s a big no.
Almost all the won who work at that company are annoying bitches, whom she has no intention of interacting with, and the decent ones are in another departnt.
"Hah..." She exhales and pushes her thoughts aside, ’I feel like having a few beers.’
With this in mind, she heads to a bar near the company to relieve her work stress.
...
After having a few drinks, Laura returned to her apartnt in a much better mood... really, a few good beers after a long day were the best thing.
Laura crosses the sidewalk with the carefree gait of soone who just wants to get to her apartnt and collapse into bed, but... sothing is wrong.
The door to her apartnt is slightly ajar.
Her smile instantly fades. "...Oh, no. Not even as a joke," she murmurs.
She reaches into her bag and pulls out her secret weapon: a pink taser with glitter and the phrase "Girl Power" engraved on the side.
She’s not stupid; she’s seen enough horror movies to know how the girl who walks in unard, saying, "Hello? Is anyone there?" ends up.
She takes off her heels with the skill of a vengeful ninja and moves toward the door.
Each step is silent, calculated... well, almost, because the hallway floor creaks as if it wants to betray her.
She takes a deep breath and pushes the door open carefully.
The interior is dark, silent, too silent.
’Perfect,’ she thinks, ’this already feels like the pilot episode of a series where I die in the first five minutes.’
She advances with the taser in front of her, ready to electrocute the first person who moves, while her mind repeats only one thing: ’If he’s a thief, at least let him be handso.’
Empty living room.
Empty bedroom.
Not a footprint, not a glass out of place, not a speck of dust out of place.
There was no sign of human presence... or of anyone who had co to steal her valuables.
Which, well, to be honest, she doesn’t have any.
’Maybe the thief ca in, saw how poor I was, and took pity on ?’ she thought, with a mixture of pride and existential depression. ’Or did he just leave everything because it wasn’t even worth the effort to carry it?’
She didn’t know how to feel...
Grateful that she hadn’t been robbed?
Or offended that not even a desperate thief considered her life to be of any value?
’Great, not even criminals want ,’ she sighed, looking around, as if hoping that at least the dust would steal itself away so that sothing would happen.
Suddenly, there is a loud tallic clang.
CLANK!
Laura jumps like a frightened cat. "What the hell was that?!" she whispers in a trembling voice, looking toward the kitchen.
The sound repeats itself, softer this ti... as if sothing or soone had bumped into a pot.
’No, no, no... this can’t be happening. Not again.’
She swallows hard and moves forward slowly, taser in her trembling hand, ready to electrocute even her own shadow.
With every step toward the kitchen, she feels as if she is walking toward the final scene of a horror movie... only without the epic soundtrack or the secondary hero who dies first.
As soon as she pokes her head into the kitchen...
SPLASH!
A shadow jumps toward her.
"KYAAAAAA!!" she screams in such a high-pitched tone that even the dogs in the building start barking.
Without thinking, she activates the taser to its maximum power and throws it forward with her eyes closed.
The sound of an electric shock and a muffled groan fill the room.
Laura slowly opens her eyes, her heart racing and her hair standing on end.
She looks... and sees a figure lying on the ground
On the ground is a child with pale skin, as if he had chronic anemia, black hair, and extrely thin, as if he hadn’t eaten in months.
Panic takes hold of Laura, who starts pacing back and forth like a headless chicken.
"Shit, shit, shit...! What do I do now?" she mutters with a frown and her hair tangled with despair.
Calling the police is completely out of the question. If she does, she’ll most likely end up in jail before she can explain anything. Because, of course, assaulting a minor is a Class C felony, and that ans jail ti, fines, and mandatory therapy with psychologists who charge more than her boss.
After literally walking around in circles for several minutes, she has left a mark on the floor; Laura still has no idea what to do. Finally, she decides on sothing basic: to lock the apartnt door, as if that would protect her from the FBI, the CIA, or even the child lying on the floor.
Carefully, she picks up the child’s unconscious body, but... she freezes. The child’s wounds have completely disappeared.
"What... what the hell?" she whispers, her eyes wide open. She’s never seen anything like this, not even in weird ani.
Frightened, she leaves him on the sofa with the delicacy of soone placing a bomb, and then, out of pure survival instinct, she builds a small makeshift fortress with cushions, a broom, and a pot lid over her head.
"Okay... if this kid wakes up and turns out to be the antichrist, at least I have a helt."
And there she stays, watching from her fort, nerves on edge and the pot shining under the dim light of the apartnt.
Laura, seeing what she was doing, couldn’t help but think.
’What the hell am I doing?’
...
After a few minutes, Laura, who is still sitting on her fortress of cushions, notices that the child has no intention of waking up, and her concern only increases.
’Did I kill him?’ she thought about that possibility, which could very well be true, because due to sudden shock, he could die of a heart attack.
Suddenly, you hear the sound of soone knocking on the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
She sits up imdiately, almost jumping, and fixes her hair with trembling hands, trying to appear as calm as possible. She shakes her shirt, takes a deep breath, and, with the most fake smile she can muster, heads for the door.
"Hello, Mr. Josep, what brings you here so late?" Laura greets the man she recognizes in the hallway.
"I ca to see if you’re okay, Miss Laura. Soone called, saying they heard a scream coming from your apartnt." He adjusts the belt of his uniform with the weary gesture of soone who would rather be watching television at his post.
Josep was the building’s security guard, an elderly man of about 65 who had worked as a security guard all his life.
"Oh, that..." Laura let out a nervous giggle and scratched the back of her neck. "I apologize for that. It’s just that... there was a cockroach in the bathtub."
Josep raises an eyebrow. "Just because of a cockroach?"
"Not just any bug, Mr. Josep. It was one of those flying ones!" Laura raises a finger to emphasize the seriousness of the matter. "Do you know what it feels like to see sothing with six legs and wings coming straight at your face? That’s not a cockroach, it’s trauma on legs!"
The man looks at her silently for a few seconds. Not a muscle moves. Finally, he sighs with resignation, as if that absurd explanation were the most normal thing he had heard that night.
"Please, Miss Laura, try not to alarm the neighbors. They thought you were being killed."
"Yes, yes, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again."
Josep nods, turns slowly, and disappears down the hallway.
Laura closes the door carefully, rests her forehead against it, and lets out a long sigh.
When she returns to the living room, she freezes.
The child had woken up!
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