Reincarnated as the Vampire Princess' Familiar-Chapter 1: Prologue: Blood eyes in the darkness

Red eyes. Red, like the blood pouring endlessly from my chest and mouth. Long black hair sways in the wind, as dark as the night swallowing me whole.

Damn it, I'm only sixteen! I'm at the peak of my youth: captain of my city's soccer team, top grades at school, even some success with girls. What else could a guy my age want? The answer is simple: to live.

I know this path like the back of my hand. I've walked it hundreds of times, every evening after practice. A dirt road cutting through a small forest, linking the soccer field to my house. It's just after seven on a cold December evening. Snow covers the ground in an untouched white blanket. It snowed until this morning, and if it hadn't stopped, practice would've been canceled. I had thought, 'Hope it ends soon.' But looking back now, if that damned snowfall hadn't stopped, maybe I'd still be alive. You can't predict the future, though.

Who could've guessed that a man, seeing me alone, would try to rob me? And when I resisted, that the cold blade of his knife would tear into my stomach?

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«You had it coming. Everyone knows bad things happen in the woods at this hour,» someone might say. But I've been walking this path for four years, at least three times a week. To practice and back. Maybe I just pushed my luck too far.

Red eyes, as red as blood. They fix on me, almost amused.

Through the shadows, I can make out the figure of a girl—maybe a woman. She's wrapped in a black fur coat, her high heels pressing softly into the snow.

What's she doing, so elegantly dressed, in the middle of the forest? Stupid question... I should be wondering about the two massive black bat-like wings spreading from her back. Halloween had long been over. A cosplayer, maybe? If she is, it's the most realistic—and terrifying—cosplay I've ever seen.

My blood seeps into the snow, painting it a vivid red. The cold locks my body. First my feet, then my hands. Now, nothing responds anymore.

I'd call for help, but that man took everything. Even my phone. I'll never forget his face: pale, skeletal, with hollow, vacant eyes and a few messy blonde strands clinging to his scalp. Probably a junkie. He didn't even try to hide his face. It must've been a desperate, spur-of-the-moment act, driven by withdrawal.

«I'd give anything not to die,» I whisper with the last shred of my voice.

It's not a prayer, not even a plea for help. Just a simple statement.

Like a macabre spell, those words have summoned the woman—or maybe the demon?—now towering over me.

«Anything?» she asks, her voice deep and sensual, laced with mockery.

What kind of question is that? Like saying yes would actually change anything.

When you're on the brink of death, nothing matters more than your life. You'll believe in anything, no matter how absurd, if it means staying alive. Her words make me think she can save me—at a price. Whatever this creature wants in return couldn't possibly outweigh what she's offering. But what is she offering, anyway? I must be delirious... At best, I suppose she could call for help. Yet she seems amused by my suffering. What's so entertaining about watching a sixteen-year-old freeze and bleed out is beyond me.

I feel weaker by the second. A pool of blood spreads around me, her crimson eyes locked onto mine. Her figure blurs as my eyelids grow heavier, ready to close forever.

«Anything...» I whisper faintly, just before the darkness consumes me.