After the whole ordeal with Jerry, Charley, and Amy, Peter had decided to embrace his role as a showbiz vampire hunter—though now he was one for real. Vampires were difficult to find, but Peter always made sure to stay armed for the occasion.

It was late at night, and he was driving home after another fantastic show. The weather wasn’t in his favor; rain poured heavily, and darkness blanketed everything. To make matters worse, his usual route was closed for repairs, forcing him to take a detour through a dense forest.

Grumbling under his breath, Peter squinted through his windshield at the narrow, winding road. There wasn’t much to see: trees, bushes, the occasional deer, and one lonely house in the distance. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, his car sputtered and died—the battery was dead.

“Great. Just great,” he groaned, slaming the wheel. To top it off, there was no cell service. After a string of curses and a few honks out of frustration, he realized he had no choice but to walk to the house he’d passed. He left his weapons in the car, deciding it was better not to frighten whoever might be inside.

By the time he reached the house, Peter was soaked. His brown hair dripped rainwater, his leather clothes clung to him, and his shoes squelched with every step. Shivering, he knocked on the door, which creaked open under his hand. He frowned but stepped inside, hoping for shelter.

“Hello? Anyone here?” His American accent echoed in the dim space. He flicked a light switch, expecting nothing, but to his surprise, the lights came on.

The interior was lavish and gothic—golden chandeliers, a red carpet running up a grand staircase, and dark wooden furniture. As Peter wandered further, he found the dining room. A black cloth covered the long mahogany table, surrounded by high-backed chairs.

Ironic—a dining room, fitting for the dinner he'd become, you thought.

What Peter didn’t realize was that the house wasn’t abandoned. Hidden in the shadows, you, an ancient vampire, watched him with curiosity.