Chapter One: The Vampire

(Final Draft for Publishing Submission)

London, as always, was shrouded in rain.

Outside the window, a light drizzle tapped rhythmically against the glass, each drop a soft percussion in the gray silence.

Inside the modest flat, Detective Lorian flicked a speck of dust from a résumé and eyed the applicant seated across from him.

"Elsa Lentz?" he asked.

"Yes—that's me!" The young woman straightened in her seat, clutching a folder tightly against her chest. Her light chestnut ponytail quivered slightly as she nodded. Dark eyes, sharp with intelligence, flickered with just a hint of anxiety.

According to her résumé, she had only recently graduated. No real-world experience, but plenty of academic credentials. Lorian sighed inwardly. A fresh-faced intellectual—why choose detective work over something sensible like law or medicine?

"And what position are you applying for?" he asked.

"Field agent," Elsa said softly, almost too softly. "I'd like to apply for the agent role here."

Lorian raised an eyebrow. So far, he'd interviewed five candidates—all of whom had bailed after hearing the terms. She, at least, had made it to the room. That was something.

"Is there a problem?" Elsa asked when he didn't respond immediately.

"No… not exactly," Lorian said, leaning back in his chair. "Most detective offices in London don't hire women for field roles. They stick you behind a desk with analysis reports or appointment logs."

He paused for effect.

"Luckily for you, I'm not 'most offices.' But I do have one concern: What's your expected salary?"

Elsa hesitated. "Well… I haven't thought too much about it. I believe field agents typically make about 20 shillings a week?"

That was two pounds—a decent rate, roughly the same as a skilled textile worker.

She braced herself for a pay cut, thinking she'd settle for twelve shillings if she had to.

Lorian nodded, then steered the conversation in a different direction. "That may be the going rate, sure. But you're not a typical field agent."

He folded his hands. "You're fresh out of university. No field experience. You'll require mentorship, training, and oversight—which, frankly, costs me time and energy. So…"

He smiled, sharklike.

"…instead of me paying you, I think you should pay me. A 'training fee,' let's call it."

Elsa blinked. "Wait—what?"

Lorian leaned back, pleased with himself.

Two minutes later, the door slammed shut as Elsa left in a huff—same as the others.

He sighed and glanced at the calendar: September 11, 1888.

Exactly one week since he'd arrived here.

His name—Lorian—had remained the same. But everything else? Different. He wasn't on Earth anymore. Not really. This world was like a shadowy, gothic alternate London—closer to Gotham than to reality.

He'd woken up in this detective's body, one of the "standard transmigrator loadouts" along with American hobos and Japanese high schoolers. But unlike the Sherlocks or the Poirots, his host was a third-rate nobody. A washed-up PI with an office, a license bought on subsidy, and a pile of unpaid rent.

But now, Lorian had something the old owner didn't: a secret.

A power.

He opened the drawer and pulled out several glass vials—each containing a mutated ant, grotesquely large and pulsating with unnatural energy.

Their transformation had begun the moment he fed them his blood.

He uncapped a vial and dipped a fountain pen inside. Two ants lunged at the metal nib, gnawing at it with relentless force.

Crack.

Tiny sounds echoed as the steel was bitten into fragments.

Lorian observed, muttering notes under his breath. "Subjects One and Two showing increased aggression. Environmental awareness feedback returned. Efficiency rate higher than prior batch…"

He rolled up his sleeve.

On his forearm was a crimson mark, shaped like a closed eye, with streaks like weeping tears trailing downward.

Since becoming a vampire, that mark had leaked a small amount of blood daily—just half a milliliter, but potent.

That blood could mutate life.

The simpler the creature's mind, the easier to dominate. The more blood it absorbed, the stronger it became—and the more feedback Lorian received in return.

Ants were a start. But eventually, he would test it on something more… human.

Suddenly, lightning flashed outside. A silhouette appeared behind the frosted glass door.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Someone knocked.

Lorian closed the drawer, stood slowly, and walked to the door.

The night had just begun.