Turned Into A Vampire

Ever since Wes’s first love returned, I had become the ultimate joke in our social circle: a pathetic, shameless doormat.

He let her tear my clothes to shreds, rip out the bellflowers I had lovingly planted, and even ordered me to stand in a threehour line at a trendy dessert shop in the freezing rain while I was on my period, all just to give her a "surprise." But I wasn’t heartbroken.

I couldn't care less, because as soon as I completed the one hundred tasks he demanded of me, the system would let me return to my original world and resurrect my deceased mother. But then...

A reallife vampire stared down at my halfdead body, cradled my neck in his hands, and sank his fangs deep into my throat. “From this moment on, you’re one of us.”

2 I clutched my neck, staring in absolute disbelief at the man standing before me in faded cargo shorts and flipflops. “You... you're a vampire?” He rolled his eyes, retracting his sharp fangs with an annoyed click of his tongue. “Why else would I bite you?

For the taste?” I opened my mouth to argue, but a sudden, violent surge of energy tore through my veins, bringing with it an agonizing, bonechilling pain. The man watched with cold indifference as I writhed on the dusty floor.

He turned to leave, but I reached out, desperate, grabbing the hem of his jeans. Sweating profusely and trembling from the unbearable heat under my skin, I refused to let go. “Who... who are you?

Why me?” He brushed my hand away with effortless strength, squatting down to meet my gaze. His eyes were dark pools of absolute stillness. “You don't need to know. Just know that soon, you will be as strong as I am. This is your second lease on life.

Don't waste it.” With an effortless leap, he bounded onto the roof and vanished into the night. I stared, dumbfounded. Between the searing physical transformation and sheer mental exhaustion, my vision blurred, and I blacked out.

When I finally stumbled awake, I rushed to the mirror, frantic to inspect my reflection. My face was the same, and my body hadn't changed either. I bared my teeth, checking for fangs, but they looked perfectly normal.

So where was this "strength" he spoke of? Before I could figure it out, Wes kicked the bedroom door open with a loud bang. “Gemma! Where are those peach tarts I told you to buy?

Why aren't they here yet?” His voice flared with irritation, but the moment his eyes landed on me, he froze. A flicker of genuine shock crossed his face. “Did you... do something to your face?” Makeup? Confused, I spun back toward the mirror.

My jaw dropped. What in the world? Talk about a glowup. I stared at my reflection, pinching my nowflawless, glowing skin. My complexion was radiant, completely stripped of its usual dull, exhausted yellow undertone.

I looked incredibly healthy, almost ethereal. I actually had delicate, striking features, but years of chronic stress and lack of sleep had left me looking pale and drained.

I had never bothered with selfcare, so no one had ever called me beautiful before. Wes stepped closer, rubbing his thumb against my cheek, then staring at his clean palm in disbelief. “What kind of foundation is this?

It doesn't even smudge.” I cleared my throat, meeting his searching gaze with a flat, “I forgot.” He paused, momentarily speechless, before his usual arrogant smirk returned.

He ran a hand along my jawline, his eyes darkening with a sudden, intense heat. Feeling highly uncomfortable, I took a step back and slapped his hand away. Wait. I stared at my own palm. That felt... remarkably easy.

Wes blinked, slightly annoyed, and reached out to grasp my shoulder. I swatted his hand away again. After we repeated this dance about seven or eight times, Wes lost his patience.

He grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the bed. “Look, I know what happened yesterday wasn’t entirely fair to you. But think about it: Giselle’s health is fragile, and we only had one umbrella.

I had to get her home safely first before coming back for you. Besides, your fever isn't my fault.

You should have stayed put and waited for me instead of running back in the storm and tripping like a fool.” I pictured the openair restaurant, remembered the miniature pocket umbrella tucked into his jacket that he refused to share, and felt a sudden, hot spark of fury.

Before my brain could even process what I was doing, I grabbed Wes's wrist, twisted his arm, and sent him flying. He did a clean, threehundredandsixtydegree spin in the air before crashing heavily onto the hardwood floor.

He groaned in agony, clutching his back, while I stared down at my hands in absolute awe. Was this the vampire strength? This was incredible! Wes slowly dragged himself up, rubbing his bruised rear end.

He looked at me, then scanned the room in sheer confusion. “I just fell.” I looked him dead in the eye and nodded. “I saw.” He scratched his head, his brain shortcircuiting. “You threw me.

Over your shoulder.” I shook my head, gesturing to my slender, fragilelooking frame, and managed to squeeze out a few pathetic tears. “Do you really think...

I'm capable of that?” He stared at the tears on my cheeks and ran a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly vexed. “I didn't mean it like that, but...” Just then, his phone rang.

3 My ears twitched. The muffled voice from the speaker sounded as clear as if it were on speakerphone. It seemed my hearing had also been dialed up to superhuman levels.

Remembering all those vampire movies, I wondered if I had super speed or teleportation too. Testing the theory, I willed myself to move. In a blink, I was standing directly behind Wes.

He hung up, spun around to say something, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me standing inches from his face. “Jesus!” he shrieked, tossing his phone into the air and letting out a string of curses.

We locked eyes, and my hand shot out automatically, catching the falling device with flawless precision. Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Once he recovered, he snatched his phone back and frowned. “How did you... whatever.

I have to head over to Giselle's. Stay here and behave. I'll deal with you when I get back.” With that, he rushed out of the room.

The moment the front door clicked shut, I dashed over to the kitchen counter, grabbed a sharp paring knife, and sliced it hard across my forearm. Nothing. Not a single spark of pain.

Crimson blood welled up, but within seconds, it coagulated, and the skin knit itself back together until it was smooth and flawless again. “Yes!” I pumped my fist, grinning from ear to ear.

Super strength, acute hearing, insane speed, enhanced beauty, instant healing, and zero pain? This was the ultimate cheat code. With these powers, no matter how miserable Wes and Giselle tried to make my life, they couldn't actually hurt me anymore.

I honestly wanted to track down that flipflopwearing vampire and buy him a drink.

While I was celebrating my new reality, Martha, the housekeeper, pushed the door open carrying a warm bowl of chicken soup. “Miss Gemma, you had such a terrible fever yesterday and mentioned wanting soup.

I brewed some fresh chicken broth for you.” I gave her a bright smile and took the bowl. “Thank you so much, Martha.” She watched me drink it down, her face tight with sympathy. “Miss Gemma, Mr. Wes left a message before he went out.

He wants you at Crescent Estate tonight.” I wiped my mouth. My body gave a brief, instinctual shudder at the mention of that place, but I quickly reminded myself: I was a vampire now. There was absolutely nothing to fear.

Martha's eyes softened with pity. She let out a heavy sigh, took the empty bowl, and walked out. I walked over to the wardrobe, reluctantly peeling off my pajamas. If I could do it all over again, I would never have chosen Wes as my target.

To put it simply, my life back home was a mess: a dead mother, a gambling addict of a father, a furious little Maltese, and a hopelessly optimistic me. Since I was three, my father had routinely beaten my mother.

I would huddle in the corner, clutching our terrified Bichon Frise, crying my eyes out. My mother never fought back, yet strangely, she rarely showed any bruises. Things took a dramatic turn when I was six.

My father had accumulated hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. Having no money to pay, he decided to hand me over to his creditors as collateral.

But before his hands could touch me, my mother swatted him away like a fly and kicked him square in the ribs. That was the day I discovered my mother held a black belt in martial arts. Terrified of her, my father bolted out of the house.

In his drunken panic, he tripped, fell into a deep lake, and drowned. When the police delivered the news, my mother merely sighed with relief.

She scooped up our dog in one arm, grabbed my hand with the other, and we boarded a bus to a quiet town in the next county. Usually, kids from broken homes like mine end up with deep psychological trauma. But I was stubbornly resilient.

I didn't just survive; I thrived, becoming a little ball of chaotic energy. My mother always called me her little troublemaker. She had a sharp tongue but a heart of gold.

Though she pretended to find me exhausting, I could always coax a smile out of her. I knew she didn't know how to express love, but that was fine. I was willing to teach her.

But during my sophomore year of college, a reckless driver took her away from me. When it happened, the pain was so sharp I couldn't even weep. I just sat on the floor, clutching her framed photo, howling at the empty walls.

Desperate and broken, I, a lifelong atheist, clung to a ridiculous rumor. I crawled on my knees from the base of a sacred mountain all the way to its peak, begging any god who would listen to bring my mother back. And then, the system appeared.

It told me that if I traveled to another dimension, bound myself to a target, and completed one hundred of their absolute commands, I would be sent back home to my mother, alive and well.

Seeing my dazed expression, the mechanical entity had sighed. “If I weren't desperate to meet my yearend quota, I wouldn't waste my time with a kid like you.” I had sighed too, but answered with total sincerity: “Thank you.” I really meant it.

After rehoming our little dog with a trusted friend and shedding a few final tears, I was enveloped in a brilliant light and transported to this world. As for why I had bound myself to Wes...

Naturally, it was because before his first love returned, he had played the perfect gentleman. He was incredibly good at it. So good that I had almost fallen for him. Too bad that sweet facade only lasted a year before Giselle made her grand entrance.

4 The moment she returned, she stormed into the villa, dragged me out of bed by my hair, and slapped me across the face without a single word.

Wes had immediately rushed to her side, cradling her slightly reddened palm and blowing on it gently, utterly ignoring my humiliation. Watching Wes grovel like a whipped dog, only one word came to mind: Simp.

From that moment on, I was Gemma 2.0: completely emotionally detached, armor on, feelings off. And I stuck to it. For the past year, I had treated Wes strictly like an annoying boss. If he told me to jump, I asked how high.

It was degrading, sure, but it was all for my mother. Nothing else mattered. Now, I was just one task away from freedom. I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection. One hour later.

I deliberately put on a garish cherryred blouse and a pair of obnoxious, sequined silver trousers for my trip to Crescent Estate. Wes's eyes were highly sensitive, and he absolutely loathed bright colors, especially anything glittering or loud.

I couldn't outright disobey his summons, but I could certainly make his eyes bleed. Humming a little tune, I applied a thick coat of bright crimson lipstick and headed out.

When I arrived, the two of them were snuggled on the sofa, acting as if the rest of the world didn't exist.

Seeing me enter, Giselle's eyes darkened with annoyance, though she quickly masked it with a sweet, fake smile. “Oh, Gemma, you're finally here.” Wes took one look at my outfit, winced, and immediately began rubbing his temples.

I took a calculated step forward, positioning myself directly in his line of sight so my sequins could catch the light. “Mr. Wes, you called for me?” Wes winced, turning his face away entirely.

I took another two steps to the side, maintaining a polite, flawless grin. After I adjusted my position a few more times, Wes's face went from pale to green. Finally, with a wretched heave, he threw up directly onto Giselle's lap.

She shrieked, catapulting off the sofa like a launched rocket. “Get this off me! Clean it up! It's disgusting!” Housekeepers scrambled into the room with mops and rags, frantically trying to scrub the stains off the sofa and floor.

While everyone was distracted, I used my super speed to slip behind the sofa.

Leaning close to Giselle's ear, I whispered, “Would you like me to fetch a clean change of clothes for you, miss?” Giselle let out another bloodcurdling screech, her hand flying up to slap me. I dodged it effortlessly.

Trembling with rage at my innocent expression, she grabbed Wes's arm and shook it violently. “Wes!

Gemma is tormenting me!” Wes, still fighting the urge to gag, gently pulled his arm away. “Giselle, calm down.” He turned his gaze toward me, his expression a complicated mix of irritation and exhaustion. “Gemma.

Apologize to Giselle.” I bent at a perfect ninetydegree angle, performing the gesture like a soulless robot. “I am deeply sorry, Miss Giselle.” Wes's stiff expression softened slightly.

He pulled me closer and patted my head. “Good girl.” Giselle's eyes flared with jealousy. She pulled Wes back to her side, whining, “A simple apology isn't enough. Where's the sincerity?

I want to see a sea lion dance.” I glanced at the empty, decorative pool in the courtyard and rubbed my nose. “But there aren't any sea lions here.” She sniffed, rolling her eyes. “You idiot. I mean you. Go jump in and perform.” My jaw dropped.

I stared at her, wondering if I had misheard. Wes hesitated for a moment, but under Giselle's sweet, coaxing gaze, he yielded. He cast a flat look in my direction, gesturing for me to comply.

I stared at him, letting my eyes pool with tears until he looked away, clearly feeling a twinge of guilt. I knew playing the victim wouldn't change his mind, but I had to keep up appearances.

I couldn't let them think I enjoyed being their personal entertainment. Standing at the edge of the pool, I took a deep breath.

Just as I prepared to leap, Wes called out, “Make sure your right foot hits the water first.” I turned back and nodded politely. But before I could jump, he stopped me again. “Wait, that blouse you're wearing belongs to Giselle, doesn't it?

Try not to get it wet, or she'll be upset.” Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to jump into a pool and keep my clothes dry? He was just being an absolute prick.

Gritting my teeth, I took a halfstep forward, only for Wes to open his mouth once more. “Don't make a big splash.

I don't want any water hitting Giselle.” Giselle smirked, tugging at his jacket while pretending to play nice. “Maybe we should think of something else...” Wes wrapped an arm around her shoulders and waved his hand dismissively. “No, let her jump.

It's fine.” “But...”

5 I watched their little backandforth, fighting a sudden, overwhelming urge to burn the entire estate to the ground. Without wasting another second, I jumped. Splash.

The autumn air was crisp and the water was freezing, but my new vampire physiology kept me completely insulated. I didn't feel a thing. Since I couldn't avoid it, I decided to make it a show. I launched into a bizarre aquatic routine.

Butterfly stroke, breaststroke, backstroke, doggy paddle; I did them all. I even invented a style I called the "monkey paddle." I bobbed up and down, thrashing around wildly and letting out a few quiet monkey screeches to lighten the mood.

Honestly, if I weren't a vampire, half of these acrobatic moves would have drowned me. Suddenly, I caught Wes's gaze and froze. He was sitting in his chair, completely drenched from head to toe.

As we locked eyes, he slowly opened his mouth and spat out a stream of pool water. “Gemma,” he muttered, his voice dripping with venom. “Care to explain what kind of 'sea lion' does that?” I gripped the wet tiles, tilting my head innocently. “I thought it was quite accurate.” He let out a weary, defeated sigh and waved me off. “Just... get out of there.” The moment my feet touched the deck, a heavy, oversized robe was thrown over my head, accompanied by Wes's annoyed voice. “Put that on.” Giselle produced a heavy plastic massage mallet from somewhere, tossing it onto the concrete before me. “Perform a trick with this, and we'll call it even.” I squatted on the ground, my heart racing with excitement.

This was it. Wes's hundredth demand. I was finally going home. The sheer joy brought a wide, silly grin to my face, but a sharp tap to my forehead brought me crashing back to reality.

Wes had flicked my forehead hard. “Hurry up and perform!” I pursed my lips, ready to snap, but then a delicious, dark idea took root in my mind.