Chapter 4

I'm a vampire. I've been alive for a very, very long time.

I'm not threatened by birth, aging, illness, or death. I'm not bound by morality or law. I have no pursuit of fame or fortune.

I wander through the world for only one thing—a mouthful of fresh blood.

A mouthful of delicious fresh blood.

Tempted by a coma patient's beauty and fresh blood, I came to his side and became his caregiver.

The Sinclair family's compensation for caregivers was very generous. By normal standards, I wouldn't even pass the interview, but Mrs. Sinclair still kept me.

Because Mrs. Sinclair said that from the first moment she saw me, she could feel I was special. I had a certain quality about me, as if I were a messenger sent by God.

Mrs. Sinclair is a Christian.

I wonder what Mrs. Sinclair would think if she knew I was a vampire. Would she feel that calling me Satan's colleaGrahame would be more appropriate than God's messenger?

Anyway, in short, I signed a long-term contract with the Sinclair family.

My ultimate goal was to hold Ethan Sinclair and live a carefree life. To establish a firm foothold, I could say I made up for lack of talent with hard work. During the day I studied nursing knowledge by lamplight, and at night I watched Ethan Sinclair without blinking, rushing over at the first sign he needed to relieve himself or needed hydration. I never delayed turning him or giving him massages.

A month passed. The rumors about the Sinclair house being haunted gradually faded, but in the caregiver circles around the Sinclair family, they all cursed me as a scab. Susan, who worked the night shift with me, never let me see her pupils—she just rolled her eyes whenever she saw me.

She'd been in this line of work for fifteen years, so naturally she was very experienced. After seeing that I just loved to work hard and never complained to Mrs. Sinclair about her sleeping on night shifts, snoring, stealing Ethan Sinclair's high-end bedding and nutritional supplements... she was finally willing to look at me with her pupils.

One night around 3 AM, she woke up on the chair choking on her own drool. When she saw me turning Ethan Sinclair, she rubbed her eyes, sat up and said, "No need to be so diligent. No one comes to check at night. You can sleep a bit. Look at your dark circles—you look like a vampire."

When I was still human, my skin was pale. After becoming non-human, my skin had no color at all, yet my lips were blood red. When I turned my head, I could rotate at a constant speed without limits, and my eyes could stay open without blinking.

I looked at her eerily and smiled bleakly: "You found me out."

At 3 AM, Susan was indeed frightened. She gripped the chair and straightened up, her face deathly pale: "You..."

"Hehe." I laughed once, stopped scaring her, and turned back to exercise Ethan Sinclair's legs: "My mom always says that about me too. Says I'm a vampire. If she hadn't given birth to me, my three younger brothers could have drunk more milk, grown taller and stronger and smarter, and wouldn't be like now—not one of them can find a wife. So I should earn more money for my brothers to help them get married."

I rambled off the top of my head, and Susan actually believed it.

She let out a long breath, then came over and patted my shoulder: "Poor areas are like that... Anyway, sis was just teasing you earlier. Don't take it to heart!"

I nodded and smiled sincerely and cheerfully: "Don't worry, Susan! I know you're a good person!"

"Oh my..." Susan, praised by me, seemed a bit flustered: "You go rest a bit. I'll take care of Ethan."

Yeah right. In a while you'll be sleeping on his bed and I'll have to move you off.

"It's okay, Susan. I slept during the day. I'm not sleepy."

Susan's butt didn't even leave the chair: "Alright then! Sis won't be polite with you! You sleep the day after tomorrow. I mainly have to watch my grandson tomorrow."

Of course, the day after tomorrow she still snored like there was a three-wheeled motorcycle in the room that wouldn't start up in winter.

The funny thing was it seemed to affect Ethan Sinclair's sleep. He had faint dark circles under his eyes too, and his blood wasn't as sweet when I drank it—it was slightly spicy.

My taste is pretty mild. I don't like spicy food.

So the next night, Mrs. Sinclair, who had insomnia from drinking coffee, appeared at Ethan Sinclair's door.

Susan was fired on the spot.