Annabella was cocooned in her super-soft sofa, wrapped in a blanket she didn't need for warmth (because, let's face it, being dead for centuries does wonders for your circulation... which is to say, it eliminates it entirely). The gloomy light from her tablet illuminated her face, which was currently contorted in third-hand embarrassment as she binge-watched Moonlight Heartstrings, the latest hit drama about a vampire falling for a human.
When the male lead passionately declared, "I would renounce eternity for you!", Annabella let out her thirty-seventh sigh of the evening.
"Ugh, eternity is boring enough already," she muttered to no one. "Why would you give it up? For what?" Her hand groped blindly towards the side table, searching for... a plate of gloriously golden, perfectly toasted French baguette slices, slathered in herb butter and crowned with an obscene amount of fragrant, minced garlic.
Yes. Garlic Bread.
This was her dirty little secret, her "great fall," her... culinary awakening for the past three hundred years. It all started with an accidental "exposure" – she'd stumbled into a bakery wafting that heavenly, buttery, garlicky aroma. Instead of immediately combusting or suffering a catastrophic system failure as described in the Vampire Survival Guide (7th Edition), she had experienced what could only be described as a spiritual epiphany for her taste buds.
Garlic bread had become the one true light in her endless undead life, her secret comfort against the soul-crushing boredom of immortality. Obviously, this was information that could never, ever reach other vampires.
She picked up a slice reverently, a sinful thrill running down her spine, and was just about to take a bite—
THUD. THUD. THUD.
A knock, heavy, formal, and sounding distinctly like it was made by someone who considered coffin lids the height of interior design, echoed through her apartment.
Annabella jumped so high she nearly achieved flight. The bread slice went flying. In a panic that would put a startled bat to shame, she shoved the entire plate under the sofa, grabbed a can of air freshener, and unleashed a torrent of "Meadow Spring Rain" chemical scent into the air, desperately trying to mask the incriminating evidence.
"Coming!" she squeaked, her attempt at a低沉 threatening voice sounding more like a stepped-on mouse.
She opened the door to find Mr. Morris, the building manager of Nocturne Heights (an exclusive apartment for the supernaturally inclined) and a fifteen-hundred-year-old vampire so traditional he probably bled black and white. He was dressed in his usual impeccable funeral-wear, his expression suggesting he'd just smelled something foul.
Mr. Morris's hawk-like nose twitched. His pale, bushy eyebrows furrowed. "Miss Annabella. I detect a... concerning aroma. Something belonging to the sun-drenched world. Aggressively... botanical."
"It's my... new air freshener! 'Forbidden Garden.' The notes are supposed to be刺激 and dangerous," Annabella lied without missing a beat, her non-beating heart hammering against her ribs in a purely metaphorical panic.
Mr. Morris looked profoundly unconvinced, but he had a more pressing matter. He held up a scroll sealed with black wax, his demeanor as cheerful as a tombstone.
"I am here to deliver this. The Community Annual Performance Review. And... a notice from the Elder Council."
Annabella's (metaphorical) heart plummeted into her (non-functional) stomach. She took the scroll, and the moment her fingers touched the cold wax seal, she could almost hear the sound of her eternal nightlife shattering.
Unrolling it, her eyes scanned the results:
NAME: Annabella Nightshade (Formerly: Cuihua)
RATING: D- (Consistently declining. All-time low.)
COMMENTS:
· Intimidation Factor: Regrettable. Last attempt to frighten a human child resulted in said child offering you a lollipop.
· Stealth Proficiency: Adequate, though the 'Stuck-in-the-Vent-During-Bat-Form-Incident' (requiring human firefighters and copious amounts of lubricant) was a severe breach of the Code of Shadows.
· Hunting Prowess: Non-existent. Sole successful acquisition of sustenance in the past year was from the community blood bank, legally donated, utilizing a 20%-off coupon.
· OVERALL ASSESSMENT: "Least Intimidating Nosferatu of the Year," "A Disgrace to the Fanged Community," "Strongly recommended for remedial re-education."
Annabella's face flushed with a heat she hadn't felt in centuries. But the real scream-worthy part was the final line, written in ink the color of fresh blood:
"Given the aforementioned inadequacies, Annabella Nightshade is hereby ordered to attend the 'Elite Vampire Refresher Course,' presided over by Lord Vladimir, within thirty nights. FAILURE TO PASS THE FINAL EVALUATION will result in immediate relocation to the ARCTIC CIRCLE, assigned to penguin wrangling duties... with a dietary restriction to SEAL BLOOD."
"Se... Seal blood?!" Annabella's voice trembled. "It's fishy, gamey, and has a sky-high fat content! Is this exile or torture?!"
Mr. Morris added, utterly deadpan, "The notice specifically mentions Ringed Seal. An... acquired taste. Best of luck, Miss Annabella."
The door closed in her face with a definitive thud.
Annabella collapsed onto her floor, her entire undead existence feeling bleak. She could already see her future: shivering on an ice floe, wrapped in a ragged blanket, chasing a blubbery seal while gagging.
Her eyes drifted, almost against her will, towards the sofa, from which a faint, guilty, garlicky aroma still seemed to whisper her name.
No. She would not go to the Arctic! She would not give up modern conveniences, her plush sofa, her unfinished dramas, or her access to legally sourced, palate-pleasing blood types!
She scrambled to her feet, a look of grim determination on her face.
"Elite Vampire Refresher Course, is it? Lord Vladimir, huh?" she declared to her empty apartment, shaking a fist. "Just you wait! I, Annabella Nightshade, will become a... uh... a vampire who can at least graduate!"
As for that plate of garlic bread under the sofa?
Well... one last slice for the road couldn't hurt, right?
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(Chapter 1: End）