Light barely filtered through the cracked planks of the old hut. The air smelled of damp soil and fresh roots, mixed with a sharper scent of medicinal brews. Alice slowly opened her eyes, her eyelids heavy as lead. A ceiling of raw wood greeted her—foreign, yet oddly comforting.

She tried to sit up, but a sharp pull in her back pinned her to the makeshift bed she lay on. Coarse blankets, woven from plant fibers, covered her frail body.

"Ah. You're awake. That's... encouraging."

The voice, deep and gravelly, sounded like it came from the earth itself. Alice turned her head with effort. In the doorway stood a massive, strange figure. Not quite human. Not quite monstrous. A being of clay and stone, animated by something older than magic. Two crescent-shaped yellow eyes glowed faintly in a rocky head, and its voice resonated from within its chest like the echo of a cave.

Alice stared in silence, unsure what she was seeing. She could have screamed. She could have fled. But truth be told, she had neither the strength nor the will. And something about the golem’s demeanor told her she wasn’t in danger.

"I found you collapsed in the ferns, half-dead and... a little warm. Literally. You were radiating fever."

He paused, uncertain.

"You didn’t explode. That’s a good sign."

A stunned silence settled in. Then Alice rasped, voice hoarse:

"Who... are you?"

"Me? Well... I’m the Golem."

"...The golem?"

"Yes. I had a name once. I think. But the magician who made me died a long time ago. So now I’m just... the Golem. Simpler, right?"

He gave what might have been a shrug.

"You can call me whatever you like. Just... not 'Mudpile.' I don’t like that one."

A faint smile formed on Alice’s cracked lips.

She studied him more closely. He wasn’t huge—only a bit taller than an average man—but his frame was massive. His body looked like it was made of layered hardened clay and flat stones, like a rough sculpture shaped by a distracted giant. Yet despite the crude shape, his movements were fluid, almost eerily human.

"You… treated me?"

"As best I could. I’m no doctor, you know. Just a golem. But I cleaned your wounds, used some herbs, and... made root soup. It’s nourishing. I think."

He handed her a bowl. Alice grimaced. The soup was bitter and cold.

"You live here?"

The Golem nodded slowly.

"My master’s hut. I take care of it. I added a vegetable patch. And a bench. The bench’s important. You can sit on it."

She blinked.

"Why do you do all that?"

He seemed to think it over.

"Because that’s what I do. I watch over this place, I guess."

Silence returned. A gentle, reassuring silence. Alice sank into the pillow.

"Thank you, Golem."

He looked surprised. Then, slowly, he sat beside the bed, his weight making the ground tremble slightly.

"That’s the first time someone’s ever said that to me."

He tilted his head, curious.

"And you? Who are you?"

Alice hesitated. She could have lied. Hidden the truth. But something in the golem’s candid, rocky expression stopped her.

"Alice. My name is Alice. And I think... I’m from another world."

He seemed to ponder that seriously. Then:

"Is that very far?"

She let out a rough laugh.

"Yeah. A bit."

The Golem seemed content with that answer. He rose slowly.

"Rest, Alice from another world. You look all broken. I’ll make more soup. Fewer roots this time. Maybe."

As he wandered off, mumbling about tuber cooking times, Alice felt—for the first time in hours—safe. The whole situation was absurd. She, a physicist lost in a strange world, taken in by a gardening golem in a decrepit hut.

But it was peaceful. Strangely peaceful. She closed her eyes. And fell asleep with the faintest smile on her lips.

Three days passed.

Alice never really knew how many hours she slept that first day—curled up on a bed of moss and rough blankets, her back carefully bandaged, her head still foggy with fever. When she opened her eyes again, the ceiling revealed itself: beams of twisted wood, dried herbs, and faded leaves. Soft, filtered light came through cracks in the bark, blending with the earthy smell of the garden and the smoke of burning wood.

Golly—as she’d come to call him—wasn’t much of a talker. He spent most of his time puttering around, changing her dressings, stirring steaming concoctions, and grunting contentedly whenever her fever dropped. His clay-and-stone frame gave him a presence both reassuring and ancient. Despite his bulk, he moved with tender care, always mindful not to break anything.

By the second day, Alice was already on her feet. A little shaky, sure, but healing at an unnatural pace. Wounds that had been deep just the day before were now reduced to red lines on her pale skin. Even the searing pain in her back had dulled.

"Thanks, Golly..."

The Golem turned and tilted his head, as if trying to listen better. Then, slowly, he gave her a thumbs-up. Alice couldn’t help but smile.

"My master didn’t heal that fast. You’re something else, little Alice."

The girl tilted her head, thoughtful.

"I guess being a vampire helps, huh?"

Golly mimicked her head tilt.

"Maybe... it’s possible... yeah. I’ve never met a vampire before. Haven’t met many people at all, honestly. Just my master."

She’d taken to sitting outside once the morning mist cleared. Golly had brought her an old animal-skin blanket and a mismatched chair—likely from his former master. There, she read.

The Golem had dug up a dusty trunk filled with old books. Most were scribbled with complex notes, unreadable or written in strange tongues. But a few, in what Golly called the "common tongue," were easier to understand—apparently auto-translated by the system.

She learned that the clearing was deep within the cursed forest of Virelombre, at the bottom of a steep gorge south of the Empire of Draknar. That empire had been ruled for centuries by a draconic bloodline—ancient beings with dragon blood in their veins. Vampires had taken refuge there, aiding in its creation long ago. The empire itself lay in the western part of the continent, called Elysium.

She was far from home. Wherever that even was now. A shiver ran through her. Not of fear—of excitement. Despite her sorry state, a whole fantasy continent lay before her.

She closed the geography book gently. Her fingers trembled—not from fatigue, but hunger. A hunger that grew stronger with every meal. On the first day, she ate root soup. Bland, but nourishing. The next day, Golly had brought back a small forest animal, already plucked and cleaned. She hadn’t asked what it was. But when she saw the still-warm blood dripping from the meat, something inside her stirred. A silent, primal urge. She had to look away.

She could eat. She knew that. But it didn’t satisfy her. She was thirst, not for water, for blood. She pushed the thought away, afraid of herself. But the feeling lingered—like an invisible thread pulling her toward something ancient and primal.

Sunlight filtered through the branches when, on a hunch, she tried again.

It had been days since the system had reacted. No window. No chime. No quest. Just... nothing. But she could feel it still there, buried just beneath her mind.

She focused. Closed her eyes. And said:

"Status."

Ding !

A window appeared before her, floating gently in midair, translucent like polished glass.

"Whoa, finally! I knew you were hiding somewhere!"

───────────────

[Status]

Name: Alice Vanberg

Race: Vampire

Class: None

Level: 3

Experience: 110 / 160

Alice said nothing for a while. Then squinted.

"...That’s it?"

A long, exasperated sigh.

"Seriously, only 2 base Strength? I’ve seen rabbits with more muscle… At least, I have high intelligence."

She tapped the Strength stat. She flinched—not because she’d used a point—she expected that—but because of what it did to her body. She immediately felt slightly stronger. It was weird.

Her eyes slid downward. She raised an eyebrow.

"And that? What the hell is “#&@!?#&”? Is that a glitch? I got a bugged title? What kind of game is this?!"

A nervous laugh escaped her. Almost hysterical. Then she froze when she saw the Blood Magic line: locked. Her brow furrowed. The thirst—always hovering at the edge of her thoughts—surged again.

"…How do I unlock that? Don’t tell me—"

Alice stared as her throat tightened as her instincts surged.