"I swear to hell, I'm too damn hungry to sleep."
Reluctantly abandoning his grand plan of sleeping through the next three centuries just to wake up and play games, Dracula slowly stirred from his throne. It took him a solid ten minutes of groaning and dragging before he finally pried his body free of it.
"Since I'm up anyway, might as well head to Paris and see if there's anything worth eating."
Muttering to himself, he ambled into the treasury of Castlevania, casually pocketing two small bars of gold and slipping them into his coat.
With a short incantation, he teleported to the grand hall of the castle. There, he morphed into a bat and soared out through the gates, heading straight for the glittering skyline of Paris under the veil of night.
The chill wind of the upper atmosphere stung his leathery face. As he glided through the sky, a faint sense of nostalgia stirred in his chest.
"I really am getting old," he sighed.
He flew over the luminous grandeur of the Parisian skyline, skipping over the aristocratic districts and descending instead toward the ramshackle sprawl of the slums. The noble areas were too well-guarded — all sorts of inspections and patrols crawling about. Though they posed no threat to him, the King of Vampires could hardly be bothered with such trivialities. He simply couldn't summon the motivation to deal with it.
Far easier to land somewhere chaotic.
Dracula fluttered down into a dim alleyway tucked behind a rundown block. Upon touching the cobblestone, he shifted back into human form, adjusted the collar of his coat with elegance, and strolled leisurely out onto the slum's main street.
Compared to the opulent sectors, this part of Paris was nearly deserted after dark. Most homes had shut their doors tight to avoid trouble. Only the rowdy noise of taverns echoed through the silence, and the flickering of a few dim oil lamps kept the roads barely lit — just enough to keep drunken fools from walking face-first into walls.
Dracula looked around with mild interest. Hands in his pockets, he ambled along the street, heading vaguely in the direction of the nobles' quarter.
"I'm a genius," he remarked with smug satisfaction. "Landing in the slums keeps those dramatic young nobles with too much flair from trying to duel me for no reason. That's effort saved."
[Given your eternal level of 'luck', Host, I'd say trouble will find you no matter where you land. For instance... look ahead.]
From a nearby tavern stumbled three clearly intoxicated men. Faces flushed, arms slung over one another, they staggered down the street, shouting unintelligible nonsense into the air. From their body language, Dracula could tell: these drunks were buzzing with violent energy and itching for a fight.
He sighed.
Choosing the path of least resistance, he slipped into the shadows of a street corner, hoping they'd stumble past without noticing him.
Fate, of course, had other plans.
As they wobbled by, one of them tripped on the uneven pavement and lurched sideways — right into Dracula's coat.
"The hell's your problem?!" The drunk rounded on him, catching Dracula's expression — one of utter disinterest, as if he'd just stepped in something foul.
That look alone was enough to ignite the drunk's fragile ego. "You lookin' down on me?! You wanna go, bastard?!"
He pulled out a small knife and waved it unsteadily at Dracula.
[Host, this guy's really drunk enough to stab you. Just saying.]
"Eh, let him," Dracula muttered, eyes half-lidded. "Not like it'll kill me. Hell, I doubt he could even pierce the coat."
Fueled by liquid courage, the drunk lunged.
Clang!
The blade struck Dracula's chest and instantly snapped in half with a sharp crack.
The drunk blinked at the broken knife in his hand, his brain too soaked in alcohol to properly process what just happened.
[Alright, Host. Now, what's the most efficient way to get rid of these three?]
Dracula thought for a moment.
[Got it.]
He curled his lips into a wide, unnerving grin — the kind that would make even Jotaro Kujo proud.
"D-Demon!!"
The three drunks sobered instantly, screaming as they ran for their lives, tripping over each other in panic.
Elegant. Effortless.
[Scaring them off with just a twitch of the face... you really are a genius, Host.]
Dracula allowed himself a smirk.
[Not going to kill them?] the system inquired.
"Why would I? Systems like you are always pushing murder, murder, murder. Be a little more wholesome, will you?"
He sighed. "They were just drunk. It's not like they killed my family or anything. Killing them would be a pain."
He paused, glancing down the path toward the noble district.
"Speaking of which, since I've already dealt with the world-ending lunatics here, I should be able to leave this world now, right? After dinner, beam me out."
[Ah... about that... not quite yet.]
Dracula groaned. "Why not?"
[The guy you killed — Scar — his family, the Fawkes, are still kicking. His son, Red, has taken over and is... planning another 'big show.']
"Ah, fuck." Dracula groaned. "Can't these damned bat-people give it a rest?!"
After a moment of brooding, he resumed his slow walk toward the noble quarter.
"Well, whatever. Let me eat first."
[Host, might I suggest completing this mission quickly? There's a special reward in it for you.]
"Not interested."
[It's a carefully chosen beautiful girl~ Just for you! To soothe the heart of a thousand-year-old virgin like yourself. Silver hair! Twin-tails! A tsundere eternal loli! Your exact type!]
Dracula stopped walking.
"Let me ask you something. If I 'win' this girl, will she help dress and bathe me every morning? Cook and feed me every day? Carry me where I want to go? Buy me things without me asking? And when we do you know what, will she be the one moving on top?"
[Uh... no...?]
"Then forget it."
He resumed his leisurely pace.
[But why?! She's the ultimate waifu!]
"Women are too much of a hassle," Dracula said flatly. "If you're not rich or good-looking, you've got to break your back pleasing them. Work your ass off to support them. Marry them and then do even more work to keep the relationship from crumbling. And some still cheat on you. It's exhausting. I don't feel like flattering them just to win their affection."
[But Host, you are rich and good-looking...]
Dracula's tone turned lazy. "Exactly. Which means women only come to me for my looks and money. If all they want is the body, I might as well just hire a prostitute."
The system went completely silent for a long while.
Then, at last, it spoke.