Riding the horse I had named Hairless was surprisingly not uncomfortable.
Not that I had any real comparison. I'd never seen a horse in real life, much less ridden one. Hell, the only reason I even knew they existed was because of those ancient nature documentaries I'd stumbled across once or twice — the kind that showed blurry footage of old-world animals roaming green fields. From what I remembered, before trains, buses, and PTVs, people used to rely on horses to get around.
Looking at the speed Hairless was capable of, I could see why. If normal horses were anything like this freak of evolution, then of course humanity rode them everywhere.
Hairless' hooves clattered softly against the black earth as we cut through the massive garden. The further I rode, the more I noticed a strange pattern: the killer plants seemed to bend away from us, as if repulsed. Their thorns twitched, retracting, and their leaves curled like they were shrinking from fire. That, honestly, I couldn't complain about. Getting skewered by a carnivorous tree wasn't on my to-do list.
The garden was vast, a sprawling labyrinth of red, black, and violet vegetation. Trees with skeletal branches reached upward like the arms of the damned. Flowers with teeth opened and closed as though tasting the air. Some of them dripped a viscous purple liquid that hissed when it hit the soil.
With Hairless keeping them at bay, I managed to navigate all the way to the edge of the wrought-iron fence that encircled the garden. Beyond it, the world vanished into a rolling sea of gray fog. Dead trees jutted out of the mist, their barren limbs swaying as if stirred by an invisible wind. It looked like an endless forest of ghosts.
I was about to turn back when something caught my eye.
Someone — or something — was approaching.
At first, I thought it was a person in full plate armor, a knight walking toward me with heavy, deliberate steps. Then I realized something was very wrong.
He was carrying his own head in his hands.
The suit of armor stopped a few feet away, lifting the severed head so its eyes could meet mine. The head smiled politely, lips pulled tight over broken teeth.
"Hello there, Young Master Seb."
I blinked. "Damn it… Seb? Even in the Nightmare I get reincarnated as a Seb?" I muttered under my breath.
The knight tilted his head — well, his hand tilted his head — as if confused by my reaction.
Trying not to panic, I did the only thing that made sense. I rifled through the memories this Nightmare body carried. It was a nauseating experience, like flipping through a photo album that belonged to someone I hated but was forced to share a brain with. Fragments of cruel laughter, broken bookshelves, and the scent of smoke passed before my eyes.
Finally, I found what I was looking for. The knight's name.
I forced a smile, praying I didn't sound suspicious. "Hello there, Knight Wolf. What brings you here?"
The headless knight's entire body seemed to relax, as though relieved. His disembodied mouth twisted into something close to joy.
"Oh, Young Master, it brings me such great joy that you remember my name. And I am overjoyed that you have stopped greeting me by… ah… throwing my head as far as you could manage."
I blinked. "…Damn. Who was this Seb guy, and why was he such an asshole?"
Knight Wolf either didn't notice or pretended not to. His head swayed slightly in his grip as he spoke again.
"But that is not the reason for my arrival. Lord Dracula— your father — has requested your presence at the Dark Castle."
I sighed. Of course. No way I was going to dodge that. Dracula? Really? Vampires? This Spell was running out of creativity faster than I was running out of patience.
Still, I had to play along. "Knight Wolf, if you don't mind… could you lead me there? I hit my head earlier when I fell. My memory is a little fuzzy."
The knight froze, his hollow eye sockets glowing faintly with blue light. Then, concern dripped into his voice. "Oh, Master Seb, are you injured? Do you require medical attention? I could fetch a zombie nurse or perhaps a blood healer…"
The way he said it — zombie nurse — made my skin crawl. The last thing I needed was someone patching me up with dead hands.
I quickly shook my head. "I'm fine, Knight Wolf. Really. Just… lead me to Father's location."
The knight hesitated, then nodded. "As you command, Young Master."
I offered him a spot on Hairless. He stared at the horse like I'd just asked him to climb onto a dragon.
"You managed to tame that dem—" He stopped himself abruptly. "No. I mean… I would not wish to bother you or your fine steed with my rusty armor."
Suspicious. But I let it slide. I needed time to dig deeper into these memories.
Seb. That was this body's name. The only child of Dracula and a mortal woman. A half-breed. Him and Dracula had a strained relationship, to put it mildly. Seb was cruel, spoiled, abusive. He treated servants like garbage, while Dracula… oddly enough… valued them. Dracula wasn't chatty, but his silence carried weight. His aura was oppressive, suffocating. And apparently, he spent most of his time in the castle library.
A library Seb once burned half of during an argument.
Perfect. Just perfect.
So what the hell was I supposed to do in this Nightmare? Pretend to be Seb until I figured out the rules? Or was I supposed to play this like a twisted family reunion with actual Dracula?
Knight Wolf and I finally reached the gigantic front doors of the castle. They were carved from obsidian, taller than any building I'd seen back in the waking world. Dark runes pulsed faintly across their surface, giving the impression they were alive. Hairless snorted nervously as I slid off his back and left him outside.
The doors creaked open, groaning like a dying beast.
Inside, the castle was vast, its ceiling stretching so high it vanished into shadows. The floor was polished black stone, reflecting faint candlelight. The air smelled of dust, candle wax, and something coppery… like blood.
Knight Wolf and I walked down the endless hall, our footsteps echoing. My eyes darted everywhere. On the walls, tapestries depicted battles between winged creatures and humans. The victors were always the winged ones.
Servants lined the hall. Ghouls with sunken eyes and twisted spines. Frankenstein-like patchworks with bolts of iron in their skulls. Werewolves in half-shifted forms carrying trays of goblets filled with dark red liquid. Each one bowed as we passed.
But they didn't stay silent. They whispered.
"Did you see? Young Master Seb greeted Sir Wolf politely."
"Perhaps it's an act. Or worse — a test."
"Don't get your hopes up. He'll burn your quarters down tomorrow."
The gossip followed me like a second set of footsteps. I forced a smile, pretending I didn't hear.
We passed a massive window overlooking a training yard. Below, skeletal soldiers clashed with rusted swords, their bones clattering as they moved with eerie precision. A towering werewolf bellowed orders, cracking a whip that shimmered with green fire. Sparks flew as steel met bone. I stopped for a moment, watching the grim spectacle.
"Impressive, are they not?" Knight Wolf's voice came from beside me, oddly proud. "The Lord insists every soldier train without pause. Even death cannot be an excuse for weakness."
We moved on.
The head of the maids intercepted us near the stairs. She was a tall, gaunt woman with stitched lips and hollow eyes that glowed faintly yellow. Her uniform was immaculate despite the way her fingers twitched unnaturally, as though pulled by invisible strings.
"Young Master," she rasped. "It warms what remains of my heart to see you walking these halls… civilly." Her voice was dripping with suspicion.
I forced a smirk. "Don't get used to it."
Her eyes narrowed, but she bowed and stepped aside.
Finally, we reached the long corridor leading to the audience chamber. The whispers of the servants still lingered behind us. My heart pounded harder with each step. At the end of the hallway stood the massive doors — twice the size of the entrance — leading to my so-called father.
Knight Wolf stopped and bowed deeply. "This is as far as I can take you, Young Master. The Lord awaits beyond."
I swallowed. My hands trembled as I placed them on the cold iron handles. The metal thrummed under my touch, vibrating like it could feel my fear.
Slowly, I pushed.
The doors groaned open…
And then stopped.
I froze at the threshold, staring into darkness.
The meeting with Dracula was about to begin.