When I came down the next morning, I almost gagged right at the kitchen door. Those two—Alastor and Aya—had completely lost touch with reality. They were sitting in an embrace, playing the "sweet couple" so hard that molasses was practically dripping from the walls.

  — "Are you two serious?" I winced. "You’re overacting. Stop it, there’s no audience."

  In response, Alastor, without breaking the hug, simply chucked the Farming for Dummies book at me. I caught it deftly a couple of inches from my face.

  — "Ugh, disgusting," I muttered, retreating to the living room. Watching demonic affection was more than I could handle.

  Soon, the silence of the yard was broken by the thud of hooves. I felt mana approaching. The door swung open, and Shor Nois appeared. Huddled behind him were two children who looked about ten years old—twins, a brother and a sister. In his arms, he held a much smaller one wrapped in swaddling clothes, looking about four or five.

  Shor silently led them into the house, hugged the older ones tightly, and quiet sobs filled the silence. Then he simply turned and left without a word. No owner's manual, no menu, no sleep schedule. He just dropped off the brood and vanished.

  The children were pale, with cold silver hair and eyes as grey as a pre-storm sky. The youngest stood out: his hair was black, but his eyes were the same grey.

  — "Hello," I began, trying not to sound too threatening.

  The children snapped their heads up. — "Are you even human?" the boy asked, squinting.

  — "Um... well, hi," I scratched the back of my head. "Those two," I pointed to the hugging demons, "are your new 'parents'. They aren't human. But me... well, yeah."

  The boy looked at me with suspicion. — "You’re definitely not human. Aside from your looks, there isn't a single sign. You don't smell right, your heart beats strangely, and your eyes are just terrifying."

  Alastor (Poverty) finally detached himself from Aya and stepped forward. — "What are your names, at least?"

  — "Erol," the boy said. — "I'm Yara," the girl added softly. "And this is our little brother, Tizor."

  — "Aren't you sad?" I asked. "Did your father say where he was going?"

  — "He did," they both exhaled heavily at the same time. "Those damn humans deserve it. I hope Father kills every last one of them for Mama. Every single one."

  Their eyes began to well up with tears of rage. I realized if I didn't change the subject now, they’d flood the place with tears. I stomped my foot sharply.

  THUD!

  — "STOP!" I barked. "We have more important questions. What do you eat?"

  — "Ordinary human food," Yara wiped her nose with her sleeve. "But it's almost tasteless to us. Like eating grass. We need blood. Animals, or... if possible, humans."

  — "Got it. We’ll think about that. For now—your new folks will show you to your rooms. Second floor, march."

  Erol froze, looking up at me. — "And what are you, pipsqueak? The boss?"

  I froze. — "WHADDAYA MEAN, PIPSQUEAK?! I’m older than you by..." I trailed off, trying to calculate the numbers. "How old do you think I look?"

  — "Like a whole century," Erol replied seriously. "You're old. And very small."

  — "God, I hate kids," I hissed through my teeth. "No, I'm not the boss. Those two are your supervisors. I’m just... passing through."

  I waved toward the stairs and trudged to the sofa. I needed to lie down and digest this. I’m old. I’m small.

  I heard a rustle in the corner and walked over to Tizor. The little one lay in his swaddling, staring at the ceiling with grey, childishly serious eyes.

  He was strange. In my head, an archival file helpfully surfaced: Vampires are not humans. Their metabolism runs faster. Usually, by age one, they’re talking up a storm; by two, they’re consciously manipulating mana; and by three, they can track and throttle a rabbit on their own.

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  This little vampire was four. And he was silent.

  I admitted the possibility of a genetic glitch, but Tizor didn't look mentally behind. More like... he was hunkering down. I sat beside him and cautiously touched his skin.

  COLD.

  Even for a corpse, he was too cold. I closed my eyes, sending a thin pulse of mana through my fingertips to probe his internal structure. My eyebrows shot up.

  The mana inside the boy wasn't flowing—it was gridlocked. Someone had intentionally, layer by layer, placed restrictive seals on him. His power was literally locked in a cage, preventing his body from developing normally. Every breath he took was a struggle against his own magic, which wanted to burst out but kept hitting iron bolts.

  This wasn't a disease. This was torture stretched out over years.

  — "Who did this to you, kid?" I whispered, looking at his black hair. Shor Nois? Unlikely a father would mutilate his own son like this. Someone else, then. Someone who was very afraid of what this child might become when he grew up.

  Tizor looked at me. There was no childish fear in his gaze. Only... exhaustion?

  — "Yeah," I pulled my hand away, feeling irritation boiling up again. "There’s definitely a lack of normal people in this house, but curses and secrets? You could shovel those out by the ton."

  Breaking curses is tedious. Sitting there, researching the curse, piles of formulas, untangling knots... I have neither the time nor the patience for that. It’s much easier to give the system a good old-fashioned overload. If you can't open the dam the nice way, you just have to blow it up with pressure.

  I stuck my index finger into Tizor's mouth. — "Come on, kid, bite. You won't get another chance to taste blood of this quality. This is an exclusive vintage that kings in some eras would have traded their souls for. Come on, drink."

  Tizor didn't even move. He looked at my finger with a strange suspicion. — "Man, you're annoying," I grumbled.

  Self-harm is unpleasant. I didn't like pain, even if I was used to it. I sharply ran a sharp nail across the pad of my finger, tearing the skin. A heavy, dark drop of blood slowly surfaced.

  I began to drip the blood into his mouth. — "Drink up, drink for your health. Grow big, don't be a twig."

  At that moment, the door burst open. Aya and Alastor rushed in, and right behind them, nearly knocking them over, flew Erol and Yara. They froze in their tracks, sniffing the air in sync.

  — "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Aya (War) shrieked first. Her pupils narrowed to pinpricks, and claws involuntarily slid from her fingertips.

  The vampire children were at my side in a fraction of a second. Their faces distorted, fangs extended, and a hungry, crazed fire ignited in their eyes. They looked at my finger as if it were the most beautiful thing they had seen in their short lives.

  — "Your blood..." Erol whispered, saliva dripping down his chin. "It... it glows."

  — "Greg, have you lost your mind?" Alastor (Poverty) stepped closer, nervously twitching all four arms. "Do you realize what you just did? You let the scent loose in a house full of hungry predators!"

  I imperturbably continued pressing my finger to Tizor's lips. The little one finally started swallowing. Every drop of my blood entered him like a hammer blow, making the seals on his channels creak.

  — "Relax," I threw over my shoulder, ignoring the snarling behind my back. "I’m just doing a walkthrough. And if any of you decide I’m dessert... let me remind you: I bite back a lot harder."

  Tizor suddenly latched onto my hand with his tiny palms. His pale skin began to rapidly flush pink, and his black hair shimmered from the excess energy. The overload had begun.

  While this little ragamuffin was siphoning the life out of me, I had to act as a living limiter. I felt my mana—completely unmanageable for this tiny body—flowing into him drop by drop. I couldn't give him everything at once; the risk of Tizor simply popping was too great.

  My blood is not just food. It’s a top-tier narcotic.

  Yara and Erol completely lost control. They lunged at me, baring their small fangs, but Aya and Alastor reacted in time. The demons caught them mid-air and pinned them to the floor. The little vampires writhed, snarled, and tried to break free, never taking their eyes off my bloody finger.

  I just wagged my free hand at them. — "Uh-uh-uh. Get in line, runts. Today is not your day."

  At that moment, something happened inside Tizor. There was a dry, distinct click. As if a fuse had blown or an iron chain had snapped. The little one's fangs instantly lengthened, becoming truly sharp and white. The seal that had held him back for years crumbled to dust.

  I sharply yanked my finger out of his mouth. The wound on the skin closed before the first drop could hit the carpet.

  Tizor was transformed. His skin was no longer grey; life had returned to it, and his eyes shone with a bright, conscious light. He immediately reached out to me with his tiny hands, demanding "seconds." His hunger was no longer painful—it was now the hunger of a predator that had finally woken up.

  Yara and Erol, sensing that their brother had "returned," broke free from the demons' hands and ran to him. — "Tizor!" they gasped, feeling his fangs.

  The kid was more alive than anyone. Probably too alive for this house. Realizing the "source" was no longer providing food, Tizor froze for a second, and then... he just started crying, very loudly. In a normal, childish voice.

  — "There we go," I muttered, heading for the exit. "Problem solved. Now deal with it yourselves. Raising little bloodsuckers wasn't in my plans for the evening."

  I went up to the second floor, ignoring the noise below. I went into my room and collapsed onto the bed. One question rolled around in my head: "Why did I do that?"

  Helping him? Saving him? For what? What profit is there for me? There was no answer. Only a quiet ringing in my ears and the usual desire to sleep through the next few centuries.

  I closed my eyes. If the kid decides tomorrow that I’m his new mommy, I’m officially declaring this cycle defective and moving to the woods for good.