Chapter 1

I'm a vampire.

Recently, I've been frequenting a mansion to feed on a comatose man's blood. Since he can't speak, no one knows I'm drinking his blood.

Three months passed. One day, as I was feeding from his neck, I heard a voice above my head say, "Could you stop targeting just one side?"

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I'm a vampire.

I don't like drinking those pre-packaged blood bags. I prefer to drink hot, fresh blood straight from the human body.

Hot, with that metallic taste—if you savor it carefully, there's even a sweet aftertaste. Baby loves it.

But getting caught drinking human blood has pretty serious consequences, so I set my sights on a comatose young man in a mansion.

The coma patient's name is Ethan Sinclair.

He's young, good-looking, and most importantly, he's in a coma with no awareness. When I drink his blood, he won't panic and scream, and he won't throw garlic at me.

Even better, occasionally I can suck out tiny blood clots. They're chewy, bouncy, soft, and have a nice texture—like the pearls in bubble tea. Hehe.

I just love holding this comatose young man late at night, burying my head in his neck and drinking contentedly. Though he's comatose, his body is warm. A cold-blooded creature like me loves pressing my hands and feet against his warm body. So cozy.

It's not hard to see—I really like him.

I often see his mother crying, saying if she dies someday, who will take care of him.

I'd be clinging to the wall outside his window, raising my hand high, thinking: Me! I'll take care of him!

I'll carry him back to my coffin and take care of him just like I take care of the young poplar trees beside my grave.

Hehe.

But I'm a vampire with a conscience.

To prevent leaving marks from constantly biting Ethan Sinclair, every time I finish drinking his blood, I drip a drop of my blood on his wound. His wound heals instantly.

Besides that, I also researched in the human knowledge database how to care for coma patients.

The knowledge database says that to prevent bedsores in coma patients, you need to turn them frequently. So I hold Ethan Sinclair and flip him from left to right, then from right to left.

The database says some coma patients can sense the outside world, they just can't express it. So if conditions permit, you should frequently let them experience the beauty of the external world—things like sunlight, breeze, floral scents...

Seeing the word "sunlight," I experienced phantom pain for ten seconds.

Also, I'm allergic to pollen. It's pretty bizarre for a vampire—or rather, a Chinese jiangshi—to be allergic to pollen, but my existence itself is bizarre, so I don't dwell on it too much.

So I can only carry him on my back at night, jump out the window, and leap to the tallest tree in a quiet nature reserve. The night wind whooshes around us. I turn my head to Ethan Sinclair, draped over my shoulder, and say, "I treat you well, right? You have to repay me. From now on, only I can drink your blood. If other vampires try to drink your blood, you need to clench your anus really hard. That way your blood vessels will constrict, they'll have a hard time sucking, and they won't drink your blood."

"Okay?"

Ethan Sinclair doesn't respond.

Me: "Then I'll take that as a yes."

The knowledge database also says you need to frequently help coma patients exercise their bodies, or they'll develop blood clots.

Well, I can skip that one. With my abilities, I Grahamarantee I can suck them all out in one go.

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