Drake woke up in a white room, an IV drip attached to his hand. Beside him, an unfamiliar man in a dark suit sat in a chair, his posture rigid and expression flat. The man's gaze was fixed on him, unblinking and emotionless, as if he had been waiting for Drake to wake up for a long time.
"Where am I?" Drake asked, his voice hoarse.
"You're in the infirmary of the Shadowfang Order. You've been unconscious for three days," the man in the suit replied.
Drake sat up, feeling a bit dizzy, and quickly removed the IV drip from his hand. He swung his legs off the bed, stood up, and grabbed the clothes nearby. After changing, he felt ready to leave.
"Before you leave the President will have a word from you."
He looked at the man with a confused expression.
"I'll accompany you," he said. "By the way, I'm Adrian Thorne, secretary to Leo Carter, president of the Shadowfang Order." He extended his hand for a handshake.
"Drake Nightwalker," he replied briefly, shaking Adrian's hand. He then followed Adrian as they made their way to the president's office.
When they entered the office, Adrian stood on the right side of the president, while Drake sat across the table, his mind clouded with confusion.
"What do you need from me, Mr. President?"
"Tell me what happened to you on that day?" President Leo said, his gaze steady and firm.
"Does it matter? I'm known as the weakest vampire slayer. Why would my report matter to this organization?"
"The medical team found you unconscious near the cliff. Did you run and hide?"
"Ahmmm.. I did not run away, I was able to kill 3 vampires and after that one strong vampire came near me and I had to fight and run at the same time.. I was slash multiple times by his claws that made me brutally wounded. Then….." He paused, struggling to recall what happened that day.
"Then what?"
"Then a woman appeared," Drake continued, his voice faltering. "I lost consciousness, and when I woke up, I was here in the infirmary."
"Can you describe the woman you saw that day?"
"I barely saw her face, so I can't describe what she looks like."
"If you feel any changes in your body, let us know," the President said. Drake's confusion deepened as he tried to understand what was really happening.
"This is my card. Call me immediately if you notice anything. You may leave now."
"Okay. I'll keep you posted," Drake replied before turning and leaving the office.
As Drake walked down the hallway toward the exit, the eyes of other vampire slayers followed him, scanning him from head to toe. He overheard murmurs—whispers of how he was too cowardly to fight and had run away to hide. The words stung, but he said nothing. He kept his gaze forward, walking with determination until he finally stepped outside the building, leaving the murmurs behind him.
Drake hailed a taxi and made his way to his apartment, his mind clouded with confusion. As he sat in the back, he tried to recall the events of that day, but all he could see was a blurred image of the woman—her face elusive, like a fading dream. His thoughts were overwhelmed with questions, especially about how his wounds had healed when he was certain he had been on the brink of death. The mystery bothered him, leaving him uneasy as he stared out the window, lost in thought.
"Who was that woman? Did she heal me? How did I get healed? Did I really just sleep?" The questions flooded his mind, but no answers came. On the other hand, he felt a deep sense of gratitude to whoever had saved him that day.