At Ethan’s House – 9:59 PM

Ethan sat in his room, staring blankly at the wall. His defeat against Silas in the chess match wasn’t what unsettled him—it wasn’t about the money, nor even about losing the game itself. It was Silas’s words. Though harsh, they felt less like criticism and more like a lesson, one Ethan couldn’t ignore.

As he reflected, a troubling realization settled in. He had allowed outside opinions to shape his thinking. First, both Silas’s opponent and Jacob had remarked on Silas’s uncanny ability to "read minds." Then, Jacob mentioned a Grandmaster who had been defeated by Silas—someone who had allegedly only been playing chess for a month. Ethan’s pride as a professional, a Grandmaster himself, had blinded him. He had let his emotions cloud his logic.

And when Silas suddenly raised the stakes to $10,000, Ethan’s mind spiraled. Was Silas truly that confident? Or was he just some rich kid recklessly throwing around money? Maybe—just maybe—he had bribed that Grandmaster to lose on purpose.

Overwhelmed, Ethan reached a conclusion that seemed inescapable: no one could defeat a Grandmaster after only a month of learning chess. The odds were zero. The only logical explanation? Silas had paid for his victory.

As the game continued, Silas’s seemingly simple moves only reinforced Ethan’s theory. And just as Ethan fully embraced the idea that Silas was a fraud… it was already too late. He had walked right into Silas’s trap. That was exactly what Silas had wanted him to think.

Ethan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. But something still gnawed at him. The image of Silas’s red eyes lingered in his mind. And then—suddenly—it hit him, a detail he had completely overlooked in the heat of his competitive pride.

"Red eyes… like blood… can read minds… Could it be?!" Ethan shot up from his bed, grabbing his phone from the desk. His fingers quickly scrolled through his contacts until he found "SRO."

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then—

"Rowan Moreau from the Supernatural Regulation Office speaking. How can I help you?" came the calm voice on the other end.

"It’s me, Rowan—Ethan—" Ethan’s voice was urgent, nearly frantic.

Rowan instinctively pulled the phone away from his ear. "Yeah, yeah, I know. No need to yell. What’s with the urgency?"

Ethan swallowed before speaking, his voice slow but firm. "I think there’s a vampire at my school."

Rowan stiffened. Then, in an instant, his composure cracked. "Are you serious?! How do you know?"

"It’s a long story. But people say this guy can read minds. I even experienced it firsthand." Ethan took a breath, his mind racing. "I’m not 100% sure yet. Keep this between us at SRO until I confirm it. In the meantime, I need you to dig up some info on him."

A short pause. Then Ethan said the name, each syllable deliberate. "Silas Wolfe."

Rowan’s fingers flew over his keyboard. "Got it. Give me a sec—"

Ting.

"Just sent you his file," Rowan said. "Everything about him seems normal. His home address is in there too. You know, in case you’re in the mood to get eaten." He chuckled, but when Ethan didn’t respond, his amusement quickly faded. "Wait—wait—you're not seriously thinking of going alone, are you—"

Ethan ignored him. He pulled open a drawer, retrieving a handgun.

"I need to confirm this myself," he said, voice steady. "I won’t let an innocent person suffer because of my assumptions."

With that, he stepped out of his room.

As he passed through the living room, his younger sister, Lilia, sat at the table, eating instant noodles. She glanced up, noticing his serious expression. "Where are you going, big bro?"

Click. The front door shut behind him without an answer.

Lilia frowned. "That annoying big brother of mine…"

Suddenly, the door creaked open again. Ethan stuck his head back inside, his face eerily serious, making Lilia nearly jump in fright.

"Make sure to lock the door properly," he warned before vanishing into the night.

Lilia, still shaken, accidentally knocked over her bowl, sending her noodles spilling onto the floor.

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"ETHANNNNN!" Her scream echoed through the neighborhood, prompting several houses to turn on their lights.

Ethan followed the map on his phone, his steps quick but uncertain as he navigated toward Silas’s home address. His mind churned with possibilities, what if Silas really was a vampire? The thought sent a chill down his spine, but he shook it off and pressed forward.

When he finally arrived, he took in the sight of the house. It was smaller than he had imagined, unassuming, almost ordinary. He approached the door and tested the handle, only to find it locked. Silas wasn’t home.

Peering through the window in hopes of catching a glimpse inside, Ethan suddenly felt a firm hand land on his shoulder. His pulse spiked. Reacting on instinct, he spun around, dropping into a defensive stance, ready for a fight.

Instead of a threat, he found himself facing an elderly man. The old man studied him with wary eyes before breaking the silence.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Ethan exhaled, relief washing over him. "Yes, sir. Do you know who lives here?"

The old man hesitated, his gaze scrutinizing Ethan before answering. "I do. I rent this house to him."

A rental? Ethan hadn’t expected that. His curiosity deepened. Before he could ask more, he noticed something else—the old man was gripping a baseball bat.

Following Ethan’s gaze, the man smirked. "I nearly took a swing at you, thinking you were a thief."

Ethan swallowed his retort and instead pressed on. "What kind of person is he?"

The old man’s expression darkened, irritation creeping into his tone. "Just a normal young man. If you want to see him, come back tomorrow. He’s not home."

Ethan took the hint. "Thank you, sir."

Not wanting to push his luck, he turned and walked away, disappointment settling over him like a heavy fog. His shoulders slumped, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down.

As he walked, his foot bumped into a discarded cup of coffee. He frowned, picking it up with a muttered, "Seriously, who just throws their trash around like this?" before tossing it into a nearby bin.

Passing a vending machine, he stopped, sighing as he fished out some coins. A hot cup of coffee might help clear his head. As he took the first sip, something caught his eye—a shadow moving in the distance.

His instincts screamed at him.

The figure, at first walking, suddenly broke into a full sprint straight toward him.

Adrenaline surged through Ethan’s veins. He turned and bolted, his heart pounding like a war drum. Trees lined the path ahead, limiting his escape routes. He needed to think fast.

Before he could react, another figure dropped from the branches above, landing in front of him with unnatural grace. His stomach twisted. He was trapped.

Two vampires.

Ethan’s fingers flew to his belt, gripping the cold steel of his handgun. Without hesitation, he raised it and fired. The bullets tore into the creatures’ flesh—and then the flames erupted.

One vampire shrieked as fire consumed his leg, while the other clutched his burning shoulder, their once-human expressions twisting into monstrous rage. The fire crackled, casting eerie shadows across their faces.

Ethan didn’t wait to see what would happen next.

Seizing the moment, he turned and ran, disappearing into the night as the vampires howled behind him, their fury echoing through the trees.

“Chase after him, or we’ll be going hungry tonight. If he escapes, he’ll be the second human to slip through our fingers,” one of the two vampires growled, his voice layered with countless others, like a chorus of the damned.

“Damn it! A human punch a coffee cup in my head, and it actually hurt. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. What a humiliation,” the second vampire snarled.

“That human was using a strange gun. Be careful—if those bullets burn like this… he can only be from SRO.”

The first vampire’s eyes narrowed. “Mr Victor said that we have to leave no traces. Two humans have already seen us—one of them from SRO. This is bad.”

The second vampire exhaled sharply. “Then we have no choice. Hunting down the one from SRO is our top priority.”

With that, both figures dissolved into the shadows, resuming their pursuit.

Meanwhile, Ethan ran through the darkened road, his breath ragged. At last, he spotted a house in the distance—an old wooden structure, long abandoned, surrounded by nothing but endless trees.

He hesitated at the doorstep. Just as he reached for the handle, a hand grabbed his shirt, clamped over his mouth, and yanked him inside.

Ethan thrashed, but exhaustion dulled his resistance. The grip finally loosened, and a voice whispered:

“It’s me.”

Ethan’s eyes widened in shock. His breath hitched as he took in the familiar face before him.

“S-Silas?”

Silas stared at him, expression unreadable. A long pause followed before he finally spoke.

“Yes.”

Ethan, still catching his breath, blinked in confusion. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know. Someone attacked me, so I ran,” Silas replied, his voice cold and measured.

Ethan stiffened. “Was it two middle-aged men?”

Silas held his gaze, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

“Right."

Ethan stood frozen, his mind racing. He had barely escaped two vampires, and now, before him, was someone whose true nature remained uncertain.

Telling Silas about them would make me sound insane, he thought. Instead, he forced a casual tone, trying to ease the tension.

"I stopped by your place earlier to look for you," Ethan said.

Silas, who had been preoccupied, slowly straightened. His cold, unreadable gaze locked onto Ethan. "What do you want from me?"

Ethan hesitated under the weight of that stare. He scrambled for an excuse, then let out an awkward laugh. "Oh, nothing much. Just… about that $10,000 chess bet you won—I think I sent you a little less than I owed. Ha-ha-ha."

Silas didn’t blink. His expression remained utterly blank.

Ethan cleared his throat, desperate to shift the conversation. "By the way, your landlord is terrifying. Nearly took my head off with a baseball bat—thought I was a thief or something."

Silas's gaze sharpened.

"What landlord?" he said, voice calm yet unyielding. "That’s my house."

Ethan’s breath hitched.

The color drained from his face. A slow, creeping chill spread through his body, locking his limbs in place.

Far away, deep within a dark and desolate forest…

The old man Ethan had mistaken for "Silas’s landlord" stood deathly still. His black pupils expanded, swallowing the whites of his eyes. His skin rippled and twisted, bones stretching, body warping, grotesquely reshaping itself into something far larger.

A towering figure emerged from the grotesque transformation.

Tobias Falkstein.

End of chapter 2.