On a dull afternoon, our protagonist, Matthew John, bore a name as mundane as his life. Since graduating college, he had delivered food, worked as a restaurant waiter, mowed lawns, and more. With a bit of family assistance, he had finally paid off his small student loan after two years.
The only thing Matthew inherited was a rundown boarding house in the suburbs. Abandoned for years, it might have once been bustling, but the small town it was in had fallen into ruin two decades ago. Most residents had moved to a new settlement miles away, called New Curian Town, leaving this place behind as Old Curian Town. Since Matthew could remember, his family had lived in different rooms of the guesthouse,treating them as their own. Now, only a handful of people remained in the town. Occasionally, a few nostalgic elders would visit with food trucks, but for the most part, the place was lifeless. Matthew figured he might as well reopen the decrepit guesthouse.
Sitting in the dimly lit lobby with a taco (no tip left), Matthew surveyed the old building. Three stories tall, with ceilings barely eight feet high, the house had ten rooms in total—four o
The guesthouse was 50 kilometers from the new town, its dim yellow lighting and creaky wooden floors adding to the eerie atmosphere. If it ever attracted guests, Matthew joked to himself, they'd likely be vampires.
Amused by his ridiculous thought, Matthew chuckled. Just then, there was a knock on the door—two sharp raps.
Opening the door, he saw a man cloaked in a hood. Despite the shrouding garment, it was clear the visitor was male—tall, about 6'2", with slender, bony hands that seemed slightly too large for a woman.
The man lowered his hood, revealing a face so striking it was almost androgynous. Golden curls framed blood-red eyes, and faint fangs peeked from his mouth. Matthew shrugged, assuming this was some C-list celebrity or a cosplay enthusiast.
With his usual laid-back demeanor, Matthew said, "Welcome to... the Losers' Inn. A homey feel, just $50—no, $20—a night."
The man suddenly roared, "I am NOT a loser!" and slammed Matthew against the wall. Refusing to be intimidated, Matthew punched him in the stomach.
The cloaked man arched his back in an unnatural way as bat-like wings unfurled behind him, and his eyes glowed with bloodlust. But the wings, barely 20 inches long, looked more like chicken wings dangling awkwardly. Matthew burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.
Flushed with anger, the man lunged at Matthew, fangs bared, ready to sink them into the neck of anyone who dared laugh at him.
Suddenly, the price board hanging behind the counter erupted in brilliant light. A scroll, inscribed with intricate magical symbols, floated out. The vampire was immediately pinned to the ground by an invisible force.
After about half an hour, the glowing scroll faded back into the wall. The vampire, now sitting on the floor, burst into sobs. "Have I truly been sacrificed to Hell? Why must I suffer like this?" he wailed.
Matthew had no idea how to console this bizarre... person? Creature? So he waited quietly—for two hours.
As the sun began to set, the man finally calmed down. Matthew asked, "I'm Matthew. Vampire guy, do you need help with something?"
The man rubbed his tear-streaked, swollen eyes. "My name is ρνψπρψφ. I'm from the Ghostwood Forest far to the south. My family sacrificed me, and somehow I ended up here."
Listening to the strange sounds of his name, Matthew smirked. "I'll just call you Dracula. I've never heard of any Ghostwood Forest in the USA. If you don't mind, you can stay here for a while."
Dracula nodded in approval. "Not a bad name."
Moments ago, the two had been fighting. Now they sat together drinking tea. Dracula explained that he came from a land called Mu, a magical world full of elves, beasts
Feeling sorry for him, Matthew asked, "Hungry? I can get you something to eat."
Dracula, his eyes welling with tears, replied, "Thank you, but I can manage on my own." He suddenly pounced on Matthew, baring his fangs.
Matthew smacked him on the head. "What are you thinking? You're half-human—you can eat normal food."
"I am a noble vampire!" Dracula grumbled, holding his head.
"Sure, sure, my dear Count Dracula," Matthew said without turning back.
Half an hour later, Matthew returned with a tray: two lightly toasted slices of bread, a sliver of ham buried under heaps of lettuce, and a glass of red liquid.
Dracula pointed suspiciously at the glass. "What's this?"
"Carrot and tomato juice," Matthew replied.
Dracula, who hadn't eaten since his exile, devoured the sandwich and gulped down the juice. Then he grimaced like a zombie biting into garlic. "I hate tomatoes. And your cooking is terrible."
After eating, Dracula seemed calmer and began noticing the strange world around him. Vehicles driving without horses, lights without flames or magical auras, and an air almost devoid of magic.
"This barren land must be my punishment. Even the Red Moon has forsaken me," Dracula lamented, clutching his head.
Matthew patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Since you're homeless now, why not stay here and work for me?"
By all logic, encountering a magical creature in modern times should mean reporting it to the authorities. But who could resist keeping a big vampire around?
Besides, after inheriting the property and paying off taxes and utilities, Matthew only had $2,366.21 left in savings. Even without health insurance or other unnecessary expenses, he could barely scrape by for two months.
Dracula, like a constantly angry rooster, blushed and straightened his neck, raising his voice by an octave. "You actually made a great bloodline slave to a mortal who doesn't even know magic.
Matthew reasoned, "This isn't your Mu continent. There are people out there who capture strange creatures like you."
Dracula sneered. "In a world where even casting magic is hard? They wish."
Matthew hesitated. "Do you know SCP?"
"SCP?"
Matthew's confidence grew as his eyes darted around the room. "Yes, SCP! It's an organization founded by a wealthy tycoon to deal with creatures like you that threaten modern society."
Dracula's bravado faltered. "That's absurd."
Matthew pointed to a poster on the wall. "That tycoon's name is Tony Stark. He leads the Avengers, and his code name is Iron King!"