Vampire

Knockturn Alley.

Murphy was dressed in black robes, with a cloak over them and a hood over his head—the kind of outfit that practically screamed, "In case anyone missed it, I'm the bad guy."

It wasn't that he wanted to look this edgy, but he really couldn't help himself.

Dark wizards and all that—cool as hell, okay?

If it hadn't been too stupid, he would have loved to conjure a little cold air around himself, going all in on the whole cold-blooded and ruthless vibe.

But once he actually arrived in Knockturn Alley, he realized that this place truly had no shortage of weirdos in bizarre outfits.

Take the old witch who looked as if she had just crawled out of a garbage heap. The hat on her head sat crookedly, and oysters and barnacles were actually growing on it. Her hair curled like seaweed, and whether it had been dyed or was the result of some potion, it had taken on a pus-green color like poison, making everyone keep their distance.

Then there was the hunchbacked wizard with an enormous bulbous drinker's nose. Several huge insects clung to his bald head and hunched back, seemingly sucking his blood, yet he wore an expression of considerable enjoyment, as if he were floating in drunken bliss.

And there was another tall, thin wizard standing by the street, draped in a tattered cloak, holding up a birdcage in one hand. Inside it, a Diricawl kept opening its beak, trying to cry out, but it seemed to have been hit with a Silencing Charm.

In his other hand, however, he was actually gripping a scythe.

He stood there silently by the street, perfectly still. From a distance, he looked like a terrifying scarecrow.

Faced with all these monsters and demons, Murphy could only concede defeat and feel secretly ashamed.

I was too conservative.

By comparison, his own outfit was truly ordinary, even so plain it seemed almost rustic.

The feeling was rather like finally overcoming your shame and cosplaying a character you never would have dared try before, only to arrive at the convention and discover, good lord, cross-dressing big shots with their shame meters maxed out were everywhere. That tiny sense of accomplishment from surpassing yourself instantly became dull and tasteless.

Still, that was fine. With so many attention seekers around, he didn't have to worry about being singled out.

Murphy made a circuit of Knockturn Alley and found several places where he could open a shop. The rent was extremely cheap, ranging from two hundred to five hundred Galleons. Murphy directly rented one of the larger storefronts and decided to find someone to give it a casual renovation in a few days.

After that, Murphy also found a shop that sold potion ingredients, Toad Cellar.

Murphy asked around, only to find that they sold only unconventional potion ingredients, such as powdered human bone, fingernail clippings, cobra venom glands, witch menstrual blood, and the like.

But after paying a few Galleons in consultation fees, Murphy still got a name from the shopkeeper, Halima: Lisandro Foley.

Supposedly, he could get any ingredient Murphy wanted.

At the Siren's Song tavern, Murphy met Lisandro.

He was a pale-skinned young man, currently playing poker with another wizard. Before long, the latter lost. The notary standing to the side returned their wands, and Lisandro laughed loudly as he swept the few Galleons the other man had staked on the table into his pocket.

"I'll play a hand." Murphy pushed the loser aside. The man cursed and grumbled, but when Murphy drew a wand, he stepped away.

He handed his wand to the notary and sat down.

But Lisandro stood up. "I don't play with strangers."

As he spoke, he prepared to gather up the cards on the table.

Murphy reached out and held him down. "Halima said you were warm and hospitable. I thought she was serious."

As he spoke, he lined twenty Galleons up on the table. "Play one hand. If you win, I won't take a single Knut. If you lose, these are yours. How about it? Or are you too scared?"

"Foley, this kid's calling you a coward." The tavern's bartender seemed to be an acquaintance of Foley's and tossed out a jeer.

"Fuck you. Go sell your pig piss." Lisandro cursed, but he sat back down. "You've got guts, kid. I'll play one hand with you. If I lose, say whatever you've got to say. If I win, you pay me double!"

"Kid, I'd advise you not to gamble with him. This guy's a lunatic," the bartender advised.

"Thanks," Murphy said with a smile, then looked at Lisandro. "How do we play?"

"Simple." As Lisandro spoke, he gathered up the deck, shuffled it twice, split it into two piles, and placed them on the table.

"Each person chooses a pile. After shuffling, draw three cards. Whoever has the higher hand wins. You can choose first."

Murphy understood. Under these rules, Lisandro, who had shuffled first, might know part of the order of the two piles. No matter which pile Murphy chose, Lisandro could use some technique to draw the high cards from his own pile.

As for Murphy, since he didn't know the deck's original order, he could only rely on luck.

"This isn't fair. You just shuffled the cards. You might know the order, or maybe you've marked the cards. You'll always be able to draw the cards you want."

"There's no such thing as absolute fairness, kid. Are you gambling or not?"

"I am, but I want to switch to a fairer method. We won't draw the cards ourselves. Someone else will deal them. That way, it prevents both of us from cheating."

Lisandro glared at him. "Who do you want to choose?"

Murphy looked around the tavern, then pointed at the man who had just lost the bet. "You."

Only this fellow who had just lost to Lisandro definitely wouldn't be his accomplice.

"Fine!" Lisandro actually agreed, reaching out to take one pile and sweeping it open in a spread before himself. "Then let him deal!"

After saying that, he pointed at the man. "You, Vasco, right? Get over here!"

The man walked over trembling, somewhat at a loss, but Lisandro stood up and patted him on the shoulder. "That matter you mentioned earlier, I'll agree to it on my master's behalf."

After saying that, he suddenly wrapped an arm around Vasco's neck and actually bit down.

Startled, Murphy reached for his wand, but Vasco, who had been bitten, did not struggle. Instead, he let out a strange moan.

A moment later, Lisandro raised his head, wiped his mouth, and released Vasco. The latter collapsed to the floor all at once, only slowly climbing back up after quite a while.

Lisandro gave Murphy a teasing look and knocked on the table. "Deal!"

Vasco's eyes had gone ashen white. Stiffly, he walked up to the card table, one hand moving slowly over the cards Lisandro had laid out. Suddenly, he seemed to sense some signal. His arm pressed down, drawing one card from among them, then he began searching through the pile again.

Lisandro, too, was staring fixedly at Vasco, his eyes gradually turning crimson.

Looking at Vasco again, two small holes like snakebites on his neck were bleeding.

Fuck!

A vampire!

Lisandro was a fucking vampire!

He had turned Vasco into his blood thrall, and he was using a higher vampire's innate control over a blood thrall to make him draw cards for him!

Merlin's rotten cock!

It was just a card game. Was it worth going that far?!

Soon, all three cards had been drawn. Lisandro let out a long breath, as if controlling Vasco's actions just now had been extremely difficult for him as well.

"Your turn!"

Murphy frowned, but under the other man's gaze, he had no choice but to lay out his own cards the same way.

By then, Vasco had already returned to normal. He came over to Murphy's side, did not even look, and simply drew three cards from the top of the pile.

From what Lisandro had said earlier, Vasco seemed to need something from the "master" behind Lisandro, and judging by how little he resisted becoming a blood thrall, what he wanted might very well have been exactly that.

After all, compared with ordinary wizards, vampires really did live long lives.

This guy was already Lisandro's man now.

"Reveal the cards!"