I opened the door to find a tall figure standing there, eyes, shifting nervously from side to side. His pale face looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in decades. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of a long, tattered coat that looked like it hadn’t seen a dry cleaner in years.

“Uh… hi,” he mumbled, glancing down at his shoes. awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

“Can I help you?”

“Listen, um... I was just, you know, in the area. Thought I’d... drop by.”

I crossed my arms. “Do I know you?”

He blinked rapidly, like the question had thrown him off balance. “Uh, no. Well, not yet. But… I could introduce myself?” His voice trailed off, almost a question.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Uh… Count Victor von Nightshade.”

“Seriously? Sounds like a goth kid’s gaming handle.”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at me. “Yeah, well... I didn’t choose it. You know, family tradition.”

“Right, right. And what is it exactly that you want, Count... whatever?”

He nodded, a little too eagerly. “Yeah, sorry. Networking’s tough. Look, could I maybe... come in? Just for a second?”

I leaned against the doorframe. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking around like he was trying to come up with a plausible excuse. “Well, uh... you know, it’s getting late. And cold. And I...”

He looked flustered. “I, uh, just... could use a little... hospitality?”

I leaned against the door, keeping it slightly ajar. “Hospitality, huh? You just happen to be in the area and thought you’d swing by for some hospitality? Out of nowhere?”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay, that does sound pretty suspicious now that I say it out loud.”

I let the silence stretch between us. The guy looked like he was about to crumble from the awkwardness, and the longer I kept him there, the more it seemed like I could almost hear him squirming.

“I was hoping you might, uh... allow me to, um, come in, maybe just, you know, chat? About something exciting?”

His nervous laugh was a little too forced. “It’s about... opportunities. Life-changing, really. A chance to join a community of like-minded individuals who, uh, really get it. You know, being part of something bigger. Did I mention the financial rewards? Very substantial rewards. All you have to do is share the uh... the afterlife with others. Help them discover their true potential.”

“Wait.” I glance at him skeptically. “You’re... recruiting people for your, what, vampire pyramid scheme?”

“NO!” he said a little too loudly. “I mean, uh... not a scheme. More of a business opportunity. It’s... it’s not a pyramid. It’s not like that at all! It’s about... a network, you know? We help people. You could be a top earner in no time! It’s all very flexible.”

I didn’t wait another second. I slammed the door shut with a firm thud.

There was a moment of silence, and then I heard his muffled voice from the other side. “Fair enough.” His voice was soft and resigned. “I’ll come back when you’re in a better mood.”

I stared at the door for a beat longer, then pulled it open a crack. No sign of him. I stepped out onto the porch, scanning the quiet street. Not a single soul in sight.

Then, just as I was about to close the door again, I caught sight of something odd, barely noticeable in the dim light. A small, black card. I picked it up. I turned the card over in my hand, inspecting it.

“Count Victor von Nightshade, Call Me, I don’t bite!”

Below the text, there was a tiny graphic of a bat with a cell phone. The bat was winking.

I stared at the card for a long moment, half-expecting it to burst into flames or transform into a swarm of gnats or something equally cliché. Instead, it just sat there, innocently ridiculous.

“Call me, maybe?” I muttered, turning it over again. “What is this, a supernatural singles ad?”

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I held the card up to the porch light, squinting at it for any fine print. Sure enough, in the bottom corner, barely legible, was a web address: www.afterlifeaffiliate.biz.

“Dot biz,” I scoffed. “Because nothing screams legitimacy like dot biz.”

I plopped down on the couch, shaking my head. The whole thing had been surreal. The guy looked like he was one awkward conversation away from combusting, but something about the whole pitch had me curious, even if it was ridiculous.

I grabbed my phone and Googled the website. Of course, the first result was the same web address, nestled between a couple of “how-to” vampire and afterlife MLM guides. Nothing exactly screamed credible. But still, there was something about that bat-and-phone logo that nagged at me, like I was missing something obvious. Maybe it was the sheer weirdness of it all. Or maybe it was the fact that I’d never gotten a vampire cold call before.

I tapped the link. The website was... exactly what you’d expect. A lot of black background, red text, and over-the-top promises of “eternal life” and “networking opportunities that transcend time.” I snorted at the first line of the page. The whole thing looked like it had been designed in the early 2000s and abandoned by whoever had made it.

Still, curiosity kept me scrolling.

“Join the Nightshade Network, where the afterlife meets business success,” the website boasted, followed by testimonials. Apparently, the network’s “top earners” were living it up with eternal youth and some very questionable “lifestyle perks.”

The testimonials were just as you’d expect. Shaky photoshopped images of people with unnaturally smooth skin and dark circles under their eyes, all claiming to have made hundreds of thousands of dollars from their life-changing investment.

Then, in small, almost hidden text, there was a disclaimer. “Warning: Results may vary. Not all affiliates will achieve immortality.”

I snorted. Yeah, I bet.

I sat back, glancing at the card again, the ridiculousness of it all making me laugh.

“Could be worse,” I muttered to myself. “At least he didn’t offer me a free coffin.”

Victor von Nightshade… walked into his modest apartment, the evening’s awkward encounter still hanging on his shoulders. He kicked the door shut behind him, his eyes scanning the room, a space he’d hardly grown accustomed to. The soft thrum of traffic outside drifted through the window, but inside, the silence was deafening.

Portland. He never imagined he’d end up here of all places. The city was cold, dreary, and full of... personalities. He’d chosen it because of its weather, its clouds, its overcast sky. It reminded him of the days back in the old country, where night was eternal and the sun never quite touched the earth. But now, the fog just felt like an excuse to hide. Hide from the world, hide from his failures, hide from himself.

He pulled off his coat, tossing it over the back of a chair, then sank into the couch, looking at his phone with a resigned sigh. A couple of missed emails from headquarters back home, mostly reminding him of his “mission.” They wanted results, but what they didn’t realize was... he was still figuring this all out.

He had been sent to America to boost the numbers recruit more people, spread the “network.” And for all the talk about immortality and life-changing opportunities, he was starting to feel more like a salesman than a vampire.

The night’s encounter with that woman it had gone terribly. The whole “Call me?” pitch had been a disaster. He’d barely kept himself from cringing when she slammed the door in his face. Yeah, that was smooth, Victor thought sarcastically.

He opened the laptop sitting on the coffee table, his fingers hovering over the keys for a moment as he debated whether to start on his next round of outreach or just... not. He’d seen the “afterlife affiliate” website go live a couple of weeks ago, and sure, it looked like a relic from the early 2000s, but that didn’t matter to him. What mattered was getting people. Getting results.

But how?

His phone buzzed with another email from headquarters. “How are the efforts going in Portland?” He read it over once, then again. He’d barely made any progress, and at this rate, they’d probably pull him out before he could even get a decent start.

Victor let out a slow, frustrated breath. He stared at the email for a few seconds, considering his options. He could lie, say things were progressing, that he was just “testing the waters” with a few leads, but the truth was, he was sinking fast. His attempts to recruit hadn’t exactly gone smoothly. That last pitch at the door had been a disaster. Maybe he needed a different angle. Something... more creative.

He slammed his phone down on the table, rubbing his temples. The world outside his apartment felt like a joke, and he was the punchline. Victor glanced at the clock. Midnight. The witching hour. He should be out there, working the night crowds, putting his little charm to good use. But the more he thought about it, the more it felt like he was going through the motions. People weren’t buying what he was selling, and it wasn’t just because of the age-old vampire stereotype. It was the delivery.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was trying too hard.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as a thought crossed his mind. Maybe it wasn’t about going door-to-door with the same stale pitch. Maybe it was about finding the right kind of people. The ones who didn’t need to be convinced but were already in need of something more... eternal.

Victor stood up, pacing the small space as his mind raced.

He could feel it an idea forming. Not a pyramid scheme, but an opportunity. A way to target the people who were tired of living, the ones who didn’t mind making a deal with the dark side.

Victor paced around his apartment. Who better to recruit for the “afterlife affiliate” than those who were already staring death in the face? They would appreciate the offer, right? The prospect of eternal life, of escaping the slow march of time and the crumbling of their bodies. He could practically hear the pitch in his head Join us, live forever, escape the fragility of aging. Become part of something greater. We offer eternity in exchange for your commitment. It sounded perfect.

He grabbed his jacket off the chair, hesitated for a moment, then pulled it on. The cool night air hit him as soon as he stepped outside. It wasn’t late enough to find his usual crowd at the bars or clubs, but he didn’t need them tonight. No, tonight he was going after something more specific.

The nursing home wasn’t far. He’d passed it a few times during his aimless walks, the old brick building tucked away on a quiet street with no other businesses nearby. The smell of antiseptic and old age had always made him shudder from a distance. But now? Now it felt like the perfect place.