Niran was carrying the pot up the dorm stairs, cursing this place. Who builds several floors without the possibility of using an elevator? He had sworn never to come back here without necessity. No, as a vampire, it wasn’t hard for him to haul the ritual gear. The goal justified the means and expenses, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was in a poorly written comedy. Always-mistaken witches, teenagers, a dean who believed in the supernatural, a pot in a dorm—everything was screaming that he should abandon his delusions, drink some blood, and rest. The only thing keeping his patience was the final result. Niran couldn’t give up over trivialities and forget his purpose. He stopped in front of the required room and exhaled. Hundreds of years had passed, but some human habits still amused him—especially the fact he followed them. The vampire looked to the left. Witches were walking there, struggling to walk up the stairs too.

But Niran didn’t care what they were talking about. His sensitive nose picked up a familiar scent. At first, he paid no attention, but now the vampire was sure—Dao lived in the room one door from here. He thought it was related to their recent car ride. Niran stood with genuine surprise at such an ordinary coincidence, causing whispers among the witches. He glared at them menacingly, not planning to say anything to them at all. He pulled a key from his pocket and began unlocking the door.

The room inside was likely no different from other ones. Two beds, a couple of nightstands, one wardrobe, an air conditioner. That was it. Creating a cozy living space was left entirely up to the students. Luckily, Niran only planned to spend a few hours here for the ritual before hunting the Marked one. He hadn’t noticed the usual scent or the violet gleam in the iris that would give the Marked away while walking around the university. Probably due of his failed search for the Marked One, he couldn’t trust his sense of smell now. His only hope at the moment was the witches, particularly Naam—the most mature and reasonable of them. He placed the pot in the center of the room and glanced at the girls, waving them over to get to work.

"Just—please, for my ancestors' sake—don’t start a fire hazard. Otherwise, we’ll get caught not just for arson, but for something really weird,” he scoffed and sat down on the unmade bed, pulling out his phone.

The sisters got to work. Niran watched their preparations skeptically. Ever since San had handed him a coral from the Amazon by mistake, he'd lost his trust in them. However, they were working together quietly now, each focused on their own book. Ji was drawing unknown symbols all over the room. As far as he could tell, she was following the magical ley lines. Her black chalk was turning the quite lovely dorm into a sacrificial place. Thankfully, they hadn’t brought a rooster or any livestock, so there’d be no blood to clean up. San was slicing and sorting something on a black plastic sheet. Niran didn’t recognize half the ingredients and that started to worry him for a bit. San could mess up anything, and he could walk in here on two legs and leave on three. She looked down at her book, deeply focused, with such a smart expression on her face that it was easy to forget she sometimes wore mismatched shoes. Naam sat near the pot, carefully adding some powders according to a stopwatch, placing incense and arranging candles. Niran watched with growing alarm as, after an hour of work, the water in the cauldron began to boil—without any fire. He turned his gaze to Ji.

"You, budget-level fortune teller—tell me, is this thing about to explode and flood me with rainbow lava?" He pointed at the pot with pink steam rising from it. “This looks incredibly suspicious.”

"For it to explode, you’d need to add guava juice. It’s not part of the ritual. I didn’t bring any," San replied, nodding like one of those loan agents promising low interest rates and flexible terms—right before they break your legs and ask for a million baht a day. "Don’t worry, P’Niran."

"I’m not worried. I’m on the verge of a breakdown," he said in a frosty tone and glanced at  Naam. “Can you at least explain what kind of magic you’re performing here? I know only some little things from what you’ve told me.”

"As I said before, P’Niran, it’s a binding ritual— meant to connect you and the Marked one. The core idea is to bind the destined Marked one to his vampire. It’s an ancient ritual, but it’s rarely used. Normally, a vampire can recognize his Marked by scent and appearance, but our case is… a bit unique,” Naam began explaining the situation. “The main drawback, as I’ve told you, is that the bond it forms is a total gamble. Anything could happen. I read once that after the ritual, a vampire saw his Marked in reflections—not just mirrors—until he was bited. So I can’t promise what kind of outcome we’ll get. The ritual will work, but how? That’s up to the soul and karmic path of the Marked one.”

Niran shot a stern look at Ji, and she let out a gasp.

"No, I didn’t see anything. The only vision I had was about our breakfast—and you not stopping the car. I’m afraid I can’t help, as much as I’d like to,” she bowed and pressed her hands together in a wai gesture. “We’ve been preparing for this for a long time, and we’re doing everything properly.”

"And what do you plan to do with the Marked one? Will you drain him dry? There are no reliable records about it,” Naam asked Niran in turn.

"I don’t have any either, to be honest. I know that the blood of the Marked one has a unique effect on vampires, and afterward, it’s possible to infect others through a bite. Just a drop might be enough—or you might need to drain him completely… I really don’t know,” he shook his head. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is finding him.”

"Have you not hunted in a while?" San asked, and Naam shushed her.

"Yeah. It’s been a long time. I don’t take risks in the modern world. There are too many cameras, and one slip-up could cost me my life," he squinted. “When a vampire bites and doesn’t kill their victims, by the next morning they don’t remember anything. The bite mark itself fades after twenty-four hours. Only the weakness from blood loss gives a vampire’s victim away. Hunters have to work fast—otherwise, it’s nearly impossible to find a vampire.”

"In Europe, they didn’t care much about lawful accusations," San shrugged, still slicing something that looked like a carrot.

"Yeah. That’s why both vampires and anyone connected to them disappeared quickly. Witches too, by the way. There are few of you left, and each vampire is supposed to have at least one. I ended up with three clumsy ones."

"What about your brothers?" San asked another tactless question, and this time Naam didn’t hold back—she smacked her with one of the books and shook the fist at her. "Why does everyone want to kill me today?" San protested.

"Today?" Naam frowned. "I told you in Thai and without beating around the bush—not to bring this up with P’Niran! I swear I’ll dunk your head in that pot myself."

"I haven’t seen my brothers in over three hundred years. We each have our own relationship. But none of them wanted to find their Marked ones and continue our vampire line. Though, we four were all Chosen ones. They changed… too much after past events. Maybe somebody of them got caught by vampire hunters and is already dead. I’m the only one left who still wants to save our vampire race."

"I’m sorry, P’Niran, I didn’t mean to bring up your family..." San's eyes welled with tears. "I won’t do it anymore..."

"You will. It’s you, after all," Niran smirked. “Don’t try to protect me. I’m very old, witches. If you add up all your ages and multiply by ten, I’d still be older. Enough time has passed for me to accept it—I’m the last vampire. My brothers either enjoy life or fade into existence. That’s it. I haven’t given up. And I never will. I’ll revive the vampire bloodline—no matter the cost.”

"And we’ll help you, P’Niran," Naam nodded, adding another powder. “Can you imagine if the dean walked in now? He’d probably open fire with a machine gun before asking anything.”

“People like that always amuse me,” Ji drew another sign and went for another chalk. “He and most people in general… are useless. Nobody sacrifices humans in rituals anymore, there are four vampires left in the world, and even they’d rather visit a blood bank than hunt. And he spent P’Niran’s money on holy water and garlic.”

“He probably watched too many horror movies as a kid, and now he’s paranoid. All of this can't kill a vampire and is fictional,” Niran muttered in a low voice, pointing at one of Ji’s signs. “It just started blinking. Is that normal?”

“Yes, it’s fine. They’re just storing up energy through ley lines, and while Naam tosses all the ingredients into the pot, the symbols transfer the energy into the solution. Moments like this really make you believe in magic,” she said, noticing Niran’s eyebrow slowly rising in confusion. “Yeah, I guess saying that next to a living vampire does sound kind of weird.”

“We have got the final step left, but the solution needs to boil for another hour or two,” Naam added the last of the ingredients. San didn’t add anything else. “We could go grab a snack or—” Her suggestion was cut off by Niran’s eyes flashing red. “Or we could all just sit together and scroll on our phones in silence.”