Niran lay on the unmade bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt like a hobo. The last time he hadn't slept on silk sheets was seven hundred years ago. Back then, he had no choice. He propped himself up on his elbows, looked around, and concluded that he basically still had no choice now. For the first time, he felt a headache from lack of sleep. As a vampire, he used to fall asleep and wake up after exactly seven hours, no alarm clock needed. Now it had been eight, and he felt exhausted—or at least he assumed that’s what it was. This had never happened to him before. He was lying in his boxers, smeared with ritual paint, arms crossed over his chest and a grumpy look on his face. He growled when some students slammed their doors and ran somewhere, shouting. He sat up and took a deep breath, still puzzled by the need to breathe. His phone buzzed, and Niran picked it up. A message was from Naam:

“P’Niran, are you awake yet? Tell us what you need, and we’ll bring it within the hour. Also, as an apology, San will help you adjust, and we’ll make a plan together. We’re ready!”

Niran stared at the phone for five minutes and then spent ten more writing a long Line message full of insults and curses—about them and the karma. In the end, he told them to pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, bring food, drinks, and daily essentials like towels and toothbrushes. His father would die of shame if he knew Niran brushed his teeth like a human. But he had no other choice. He began pacing, waiting for the witches. That’s when he realized—his leg didn’t hurt at all. He looked down and grunted in surprise. Maybe his vampire powers were almost gone, but combined with Dao’s ointment, it had spared him a hospital visit. Perhaps the powers hadn’t left completely, but now worked much slower. He glanced out the window, then at his phone. It was almost 1 p.m., and there were a lot of students near the dorm. He didn’t pay much attention to it, because there was a knock on the door —then it opened.

“P’Niran, I’m so sorry for yesterday! I couldn’t have predicted such a mess. I’ve already cursed my model—today she’s only allowed to serve clients from the toilet only. How are you feeling?” San put her hands together in a wai and raised them over her head, nearly falling to her knees. “Please don’t kill me. I can still be useful.”

“Stop it,” Niran snorted. “Naam, Ji, and I figured it out yesterday. You’re almost not to blame. Good thing I didn’t snap your neck. Yesterday, I mean.” He nodded to greet the other two sisters. “I feel terrible. My leg stopped hurting, but I still feel like crap. I don’t know what to do…”

“I’m sorry, P’Niran, but… you really need a shower,” Ji pointed at him. “ooks like you didn’t just gain the need to breathe—you’re sweating too. The AC didn’t work last night, and this old room is full of dust. Don’t take it the wrong way, but you stink.”

“Oh, you think I asked for a towel just for fun?” Niran gestured at his hips. “In case you missed it, I’m standing in two-day-old underwear, unkempt, covered in who-knows-what in the middle of the room,” he growled at Ji, but without fangs, it wasn’t so intimidating. “Still straw-stuffed airheads, I see. In Europe, they would’ve burned you at the stake before sunset. Especially you.” He jabbed a finger at San and headed toward the bathroom. “Set the table, or I’ll have you for lunch… somehow.”

He took a towel and locked himself in the private bathroom. He had a lot to deal with today, so he couldn’t afford to waste time. Karma decided to start tormenting him from the moment he woke up. For five minutes, Niran alternated between boiling himself and freezing snot under icy water. Then, treacherous shampoo got into his eyes, and in a rage, he knocked over the soap, bottles, and toothbrush. Human morning routines were not as simple as it seemed. Niran had watched humans do this many times but had never paid attention to the details. He’d heard people felt refreshed after a shower. He just felt overwhelming rage. After drying off thoroughly, he carefully brushed his teeth, pulled on gray sweatpants and a black tank top. He tied his hair into a ponytail and stepped out. All three witches stared at him, probably having heard his battle in the bathroom, but too scared to comment.

“Good. Stay quiet. I’m not in the mood and I just woke up,” he muttered, tossing the towel over his shoulder and looking at the bowl of porridge. “If my father could see me now... That’s the third time I’ve thought of him today. Me, Niran—the chosen vampire—eating fruit porridge for breakfast instead of… say, some random airhead strolling through the forest. Though… there’s plenty of airheads here,” he squinted at San.

“If you kill me, you won’t get dessert,” San said quickly. She knew other arguments wouldn’t work on a vampire. “You haven’t had sweets in your new form yet, have you?”

“What new form?” Niran raised an eyebrow and sat on the bed. A table with food and a red drink stood in front of him.

“The human one,” San explained.

“You really have a death wish,” he shrugged and picked up the spoon. “Just because I’m closer to human doesn’t mean I’m not still a vampire. I could kill Dao and regain my powers. I’d have to wait for the next Marked one, but my powers would return. Even full on human food doesn’t satisfy me. Do I still need blood? I don’t know yet.” As he ate, he noticed yesterday’s porridge tasted better.

“You’re more human than vampire now,” San said nervously, knowing she’d be next if Dao died. “But we can handle this. We made a plan. Stayed up all night gathering information.”

“What kind of plan could there possibly be?” Niran frowned and noisily sipped his drink.

“Well, according to Nong’Ji and Naam, you need Dao’s trust. Once you earn it, your vampire powers will return. You can drink his blood and a new vampire era will begin!” San clapped her hands enthusiastically. “But… the problem is, you tried to bite his head off with regular human teeth, tackled him to the ground, and rolled him across the lawn on your first day meeting him.”

“What a fascinating summary. Hard to argue with that!” Niran scowled, still eating and listening to San’s nonsense.

“But Dao is a human,” San pointed dramatically at the ceiling, like the answer was up there. Niran looked up. “No, not there. There…—” she pulled out a portable projector and placed it beside Niran. “Here.”

“If this is another spell attempt, I swear on my ancestors, you’re done. You’re only allowed to read instant noodle recipes. And even that—do it at least two miles away from me.”

“No spells. I bought this on Amazon,” she grinned and turned it on.

“No way…”

The spoon slipped from Niran’s hand. He was so shocked he couldn’t maintain his usual bad-boy image. Dao’s face, smiling wide, filled the entire wall. The witches had made a presentation about Dao. The title—“Gaining the Victim’s Trust”—scared him. Niran felt himself like the real victim here. Everything about this situation made him uncomfortable. Even the thirteen question marks around Dao’s face. Niran sighed heavily, picked up the spoon, and waved at the witches. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. If they were about to lecture him on human relationships—so be it. San switched the slide and stood up.

“Don’t get us wrong—we’re not mocking you. Studies show that colorful, text-free presentations are very effective,” San nodded and grabbed a laser pointer. A thoughtful photo of Dao filled the wall. “We pulled these from his social media. So, what’s our main goal?” More question marks popped up on screen. “To make Dao trust you. And that’s where we went wrong. You can’t make someone trust you.”

“I hope there’s poison in this porridge,” Niran muttered.

“Sadly, no,” San said, switching to a slide showing Dao hugging three guys. “These are Dao’s friends—Kiet, his roommate; Min and Kasem, who live across the hallway. They’re very different but have been friends since freshman year. We need to plan your interactions with them.” She nodded.

“With them? Why do I need them?” Niran frowned and set his spoon down.

“Just wait,” she said, switching to the next slide titled “Objectives.”

“Objective one—stop being weird. P’Niran, you’re the local rich crazy uncle with dementia. That’s the university consensus—I ran a survey,” she said, pointing at him, and Niran’s jaw dropped in outrage. “Your cool factor is great, but not when you’re getting beat up by teenagers or running half-naked down the hallways. You need to maintain your style.” The next slide read, ‘Keep it stylish’.

“I am stylish!” he yelled. “My shirt costs fifty thousand baht!”

“Then you shouldn’t have run after me barefoot! I get that you don’t care about people, but people care about you. And Dao’s not going to hang out with another lunatic. He already has Min and Kasem,” she pointed at the slide. “Second. You need to become a social being.” Niran groaned loudly at this statement. “It is necessary. You have to talk to people, make conversation, sit with students—especially Dao and his friends.”

“What if we get locked in a cell together? Does that count?” He raised an eyebrow in a question.

“If you spray-paint a wall together, sure. If you kill someone and name Dao your accomplice—no,” San said bluntly, and Niran deflated a bit. “So, you need to go to general meeting today and learn how to get your gear.”

“What gear? Did it fall out of your brain?” he stared at her wide-eyed.

“No. You’re in the engineering faaculty. To get your faculty’s symbol—a gear—you have to complete the upperclassmen’s challenges,” she pouted. “It’s easy!”

“And why do I even need this gear?” he scowled.

“It’s an important faculty symbol. Dao and the rest need to see that you’re trying to integrate. Socializing is normal, P’Niran. You have to get the gear. Besides, it’s supposed to be fun. They say it’s actually pretty cool.”

“Yeah, sounds like a blast,” he rolled his eyes. “Go on.”

“You need to win everyone’s hearts on campus,” she nodded as the next slide appeared: ‘University’s Moon and Star’. “And by ‘win hearts,’ I don’t mean rip them out and stuff them in a barrel—I mean gain sympathy and trust. Make Dao and his friends want to talk to you. Stop lurking like some attic ghost.”

“San, tone down the enthusiasm,” Naam interrupted her sister.

“The Moon and Star are the most talented and attractive guy and girl in the faculty. Instant one hundred trust points. See? You’ve lived for centuries, you’re naturally gorgeous. Time to show people you want to be Vampire King for a reason,” San tilted her head.

“Alright.”