Life is full of all kinds of unexpected twists—some delightful, others startling. Without its highs and lows, what would life even be?
For some reason, while sitting in a café inside a large shopping plaza, Dracula suddenly felt a chill creep down his spine.
He scratched his back uneasily and muttered to himself,
"What was that just now?"
[Host, have you detected something unusual?]
the system asked.
"No… just a bad feeling," Dracula replied.
[Given your luck stat, if you've got a bad feeling—then it's probably already too late.]
The system tossed out that jab with zero hesitation.
To which Dracula nodded solemnly. "Yeah… can't argue with that."
Today was supposed to be a big shopping spree for the entire Demon Castle crew. It had been the idea of one particularly energetic Empress, who enthusiastically dragged along all the ladies to this new mall in Fuyuki City's redevelopment zone.
Dracula, lazy as ever, had only agreed to come after discovering that the place had not just shops for consoles and game discs, but a fully functional arcade as well.
As soon as they arrived, his mind was set on one goal: escape the hyperactive girls and go solo. Whether or not he bought any games didn't matter—what mattered was that if he stuck with them, Kirie would inevitably rope him into carrying bags. And Dracula wasn't about to become their free pack mule.
Fortunately, his abysmal luck stat had its own unique utility: whenever he was around these lovely ladies for more than five minutes, some random punks would always show up to hit on them and jeer at him.
A classic trope in anime—a perfect opportunity to raise favorability points with the heroines!
As if summoned by his thoughts, a bunch of thugs had already surrounded the group… only to be stylishly taken down by the ever-dashing Mordred.
Today, Mordred was sporting her usual outfit: a sleek jacket and jeans that only further accentuated her physique, a striking blend of charm and confidence inherited from her legendary father.
As a result, while the ladies led by Nero and Kirie captured the attention of every man they passed, Mordred attracted all the women—side glances, squeals, and even one or two blown kisses.
Watching this unfold, Dracula, trailing behind with his slouched posture and deadpan expression, felt like he was in an entirely different anime.
Thus, he declared, "I have zero presence walking with you people," and "Our aesthetic visions clash," before excusing himself to go off on his own.
But as it turned out, he hadn't entirely shaken them off.
Dracula sipped his coffee, set the cup down, then turned toward the glowing advertisement board behind him and waved lazily.
"Come out."
Ten seconds later, a bashful figure timidly peeked out—Kiyohime, dressed in a pale moon-colored kimono, stepped out from behind the ad panel and shuffled over.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the seat across from him.
Kiyohime obediently took her place.
"Kiyohime," Dracula began, "why aren't you out there shopping with the others? Don't all girls love pretty clothes and jewelry?"
"That's not true at all," she replied sweetly. "I've already done my shopping. Here, see?"
She opened a shopping bag and showed him its contents—another kimono, this one a different style from the one she currently wore.
"Another kimono, huh? Well, whatever floats your boat." Dracula sighed. "More importantly—why have you been tailing me? You've been following me for the past thirty minutes, haven't you?"
"Ah… so you noticed from the beginning? How embarrassing,"
Kiyohime said, cupping her cheeks. "Why did I follow you? Why, to learn everything about you, of course. Your hobbies, your tastes, your favorite drinks and foods, how you walk, your preferred type of woman, your average bathroom time—"
She grew increasingly animated as she listed each item, her cheeks flushing redder by the second.
Dracula waved a hand in front of her face.
"Alright, alright—enough. That last one was an invasion of privacy! Forget it. Just order something you like. If you insist on sticking with me, fine. Once we're done here, we'll head over to the arcade."
Kiyohime stuck out her tongue playfully and opened the menu. After some hesitation, she finally ordered a single flower tea.
Just then, the waiter came over to jot down the order—but Dracula stopped him.
"Actually, I'll take one of these… this… and that one too,"
he said, pointing to the desserts Kiyohime had been eyeing earlier.
"Master?"
Kiyohime asked in surprise.
"You really want to eat that, don't you? Then order it. If you want it, just get it. I'm not short on money, and I've got time to spare," Dracula said lazily. "But hey—didn't you say you hated lying? Then why are you lying right now?"
"Yes, Master. Kiyohime knows she was wrong," she replied earnestly, bowing her head.
A moment later, she suddenly called out again, "Master."
"What is it now?" Dracula asked, propping up his face with his hand, turning to her with a sluggish glance.
"Hehehe, nothing. I just felt like calling you~" Kiyohime replied with a gentle smile.
Dracula wasn't sure what kind of mood swing had hit this girl, and frankly, he didn't care enough to dig deeper. He took slow sips of his coffee as Kiyohime, poised like a noble lady, delicately finished the elegant desserts and sipped the last of her floral tea.
After settling the bill and tipping generously, Dracula stood and made his way to the game section, with Kiyohime trailing behind like a quiet shadow, carrying her little shopping bag.
They arrived at a shop selling game consoles and discs. It was still the 1990s, so obviously, there was no sign of "Princess 4" or anything futuristic like VR. Dracula could only resign himself to the times, looking for consoles that matched the current era to soothe his eternal ennui.
Thankfully, it was still Sony territory, and he managed to buy an old-style game console that used CDs.
With that in hand, Dracula began browsing the game discs, lazily scanning the shelves. Then, something caught his eye—a real-time strategy conquest game. It brought a faint gleam to his otherwise deadpan eyes. Back when he was still just a shut-in nerd, he had loved these sorts of conquest titles. Time may have dulled the nerdish gleam from his immortal self, but the love for such games had become an unshakable part of him—a small but cherished fragment of eternity.
He reached out, ready to grab the very last copy of the game—only for two other hands to shoot in at the same time, one from the left and one from the right, seizing the disc in a three-way stalemate.
The left hand was massive and rough—a clear sign of some kind of brute. The right hand, in contrast, was pale and delicate, with long slender fingers. It clearly belonged to a woman.
Dracula raised his eyes.
To his left stood a towering two-meter-tall redhead wearing a T-shirt, exuding brawn and menace, accompanied by a slim, nervous-looking boy.
To his right stood a stunning blonde woman in a white fur coat, her curves on full display and her golden hair cascading down like sunlight.
The air around both of them shimmered faintly with an unusual presence.
They weren't ordinary people. They were Servants.
All three of them clung to the same game disc, none willing to let go, and—in perfect unison—shouted:
"Let go! I saw it first!"