"What other limitations do I have, what do you think?" Niran asked, hoping for no answer.

"Pi'Niran... You're breathing. Do you get that? Not just to pretend. " Ji shrugged. "The closer you are to Dao, the more human you become. The farther—more vampire. That’s why your leg is swelling now. You’re blinking, breathing, and your skin tone has become more… natural."

"I didn’t sign up for this," he growled. "What’s next? Should I start buying beach barbecues? Taking shower? Using the toilet? Cutting my nails? And hair?"

The witches remained silent.

"Why do you go silent the moment I actually want to hear something from you?" he frowned. "Tell your scarecrow that accidentally came to life by Buddha’s mistake and became a witch, that I'm not mad anymore," he emphasized “not anymore.”

"Alright," Naam nodded.

"How am I supposed to earn the trust of a guy I already beat up, insulted, and bit? Sounds like I’m a dog. Why wouldn’t he trust me then? Do I look like a labrador?" he blinked.

"Labradors don’t bite," Ji's eyes went wide. "Wait... Was that a joke? Are you actually… human? I mean, almost."

"There’s one way to earn his trust…" Naam smirked, making Niran tilt his head like a puppy.

And then it hit him.

"No," he answered.

"Oh, come on, P'Niran! Have you looked at yourself? Expensive vintage clothes, cars, that hair that looks salon-fresh 24/7, the sculpted body, swagger and the manners of aristocrats…" Naam grinned. "Winning someone over should be easy."

"What should I do—buy him an apartment? A car? The congo? What are twenty-first-century teens even into?” he grimaced. “What kind of nonsense is this! "

"P'Niran, the fastest way to earn his trust… is to make him fall for you," Naam said, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

"She really said it…" Ji whispered.

"You’re not afraid to sit in a room with me and spew nonsense?" he frowned. "Why does everything have to be so hard?" His shoulders dropped. "Fine. This day has been long and terribly exhausting. I need to go home and grab a bite. The ritual drained me." He ran his fingers through his hair, and disaster struck—they didn’t come back into place. Now Niran looked like a scarecrow.

"So, to sum it up. I’m a thousand-year-old vampire who needs to earn a student’s trust to revive my clan?" Niran nodded, and as Naam opened her mouth, he raised a finger. "Think before you speak."

"I was just going to say ‘yes,’" Naam pouted her lips resentfully.

"No, you weren’t," Ji exposed her sister.

"Alright, everyone get ready. We’re going home," he stood up. " I'll give you a ride. Let’s go." He began putting on his shirt and headed for the exit.

"Why are you just standing there?" he turned back to them.

"The shoes…"

"Did you see my elephant foot?" he showed them the bruise as they stepped into the hallway. "I hit that damn pot so hard I didn’t expect it. And the Bamboo stick threw me like a tennis ball against the wall. I don’t know how my ribs didn’t snap. So basically, I had a seizure, nearly broke my leg and ribs, and almost got a concussion— and all that because of one bite. Now tell me who the real victim is..."

They made their way downstairs under the stunned stares of the students—Niran hadn’t bothered to button up his shirt. Someone even dared to take a photo of him. The night had brought a bit of cool air, and Niran was starting to react to temperature differently now. The way home would take a couple of hours if there were any traffic. He only hoped that when he got far enough away, his leg would stop aching and recover. And after a liter of blood for dinner, everything would surely be fine. Luckily, there was no traffic, and Niran exhaled, praying no one would stop him for a document check. He looked like a shaman. A shaman with two witches in the backseat. But as they left the city behind, Niran started to feel worse. As if someone had poisoned him. His leg throbbed, and his head pounded.

They were almost at the witches’ congo apartment when the vampire feel really bad. He paled and barely managed to pull into a parking spot. Sweat poured down his forehead like rain, his hair clung to his skin, his breathing turned ragged, and his skin became a corpse-like pale. He slumped over the wheel, struggling to stay conscious. He tried to extend his fangs—but all he felt were some pathetic little stubs. His whole body spun like he was in astronaut training. Naam placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. It didn’t help much, but at least he was able to lift his head and look at them, his eyes silently asking, “What the hell is happening to me?”

"Not even gonna ask you not to kill me," Ji said. "I think, P’Niran, you can’t stay far from Dao anymore. He’s now your…"

"Doom," Niran finished for her, looking at Ji. "I’m going back to the dorm. I’ll sleep there. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do."

"Think of it as a gift, P’Niran," Naam said and he used the last of his strength to glare at her—the most he could manage right now.  "If you survive this, you’ll survive anything. And maybe you’ll even gain something..." she added with a mysterious smile, and at the vampire's growl, the sisters ran out of the car..

He started heading back. With every mile, he felt his strength returning—along with his will to live and fight. Niran even smiled when he saw the university come into view. And on the parking spot, he even laughed uncontrollably. He never could’ve predicted this. The great, untouchable, prideful Niran, limping on one leg, was heading toward the student dorm to sleep on an unmade bed like a homeless man. In his shirt and pants worth more than both the entire dorm and campus. Climbing the stairs was the hardest part, but he noticed something—his leg was already starting to feel better. He stopped near Dao’s door and listened. In the past, he could’ve heard the heartbeat and now…nothing. He wanted to knock furiously, but flipped the middle finger, stuck out his tongue, and walked away with his head held high.

"What the hell…" he groaned, placing a hand on his stomach. It rumbled, and Niran froze in realization—he didn’t want blood.

He wanted human food.

He turned toward Dao’s room, his face flushing with rage, and whispered.

"Oh, perfect. I’m not even gonna make it to tomorrow. That’s how all problems solve themselves."

Then he turned toward his own door and opened his mouth in surprise. Two bags were hanging on the handle. One had a sticker on it.

"Didn’t find any sedatives in the first aid kit, so here’s some bruise cream and porridge—so you stop attacking people."

"Charming, the Bamboo stick," Niran muttered and stepped into his room.