Reincarnated as Dracula’s Son

If his room didn't confirm it, the dinning was more than enough proof that his family was rich.

Damian sat at the table, taking in the details of the luxurious dining room. The furniture, from the chairs to the cutlery, was a testament to the abundance of his family's wealth, with intricate designs and gleaming metals adorning every surface. Even the smallest details, like the placement of the salt and pepper shakers, whispered of a refined elegance that was impossible to miss.

Damian, unable to resist the wry observation, silently appraised his own situation with a hint of self-deprecating humor."Jock body, supermodel face, superpower, and a super rich family. How greedy?" he mused, his inner voice a playful scoff at the sheer overabundance of blessings that seemed to favor him.

The thought of an enemy, a mysterious foe lurking in the shadows of his otherwise privileged life, struck Damian as a twisted sort of balance to the scales of fate."An enemy who wants to kill me," he pondered. "It's only fair, I guess. Otherwise, life would be too perfect."

As the family dug into their meal, the conversation began to flow like the food before them, rich and plentiful.Mrs. Vlad, her fork poised mid-bite, turned to Damian, her words a gentle reminder of the responsibilities that awaited him in the coming days. "You'll be resuming school on Monday," she said, her tone a blend of fondness and firmness.Damian, his eyes flicking up to meet his mother's gaze, nodded in acknowledgment. "Yes, ma," he replied, his response a quiet acceptance of his return to the world of academia.

Damian knew that his family would want him to resume school, their concern for his education as constant as the tide."Of course they want me to resume," he thought. "They wouldn't want any more questions to be raised."The idea of his sudden disappearance raising eyebrows was not lost on him, and he could already picture the concerned whispers that would circle through the school like a swarm of gossiping flies.

Damian, his words cloaked in a veiled caution, asked a question that danced along the edges of his family's well-kept secret."Do they know about our family?" he asked, his eyes darting around the table.

Each word was measured, weighed before it left his lips, like fragile glass that might shatter if handled carelessly. He couldn't risk saying too much, in case his friends didn't know.

Mrs. Vlad, her eyes resolute with purpose, firmly dismissed Damian's concern with a swift shake of her head. "No, they don't," she stated. "And it's of the utmost importance that we keep it that way."

Damian, his gaze flickering towards Tyrion. Although the latter made a show of eating his food, Damian caught a glimpse of understanding that flickered across his friend's features, his face a subtle expression of shared awareness.

The conclusion that Tyrion was likely aware of the truth seemed to grow more plausible in Damian's mind."After all," he thought, "Tyrion had been there when I was attacked. And he had told me we're best friends. He must have figured it out."The idea of broaching the subject with Tyrion, a conversation that could provide some much-needed reassurance, took root in Damian's mind."I'll talk to him after dinner," he resolved, a silent promise to himself that he hoped would bring some clarity to the situation.

If you had your memory, you'd have realized by now that this is a different house than the one we used to live in. Mrs Vlad said.

As Mrs. Vlad drew attention to the unfamiliar surroundings, Damian, his eyes roaming across the unfamiliar details of the space, found himself once again confronted with the evidence of a new chapter in his life."So this is a different house," he mused, his gaze tracing the contours of the walls, the furniture, the way the light fell across the room.

Mrs. Vlad, her words tinged with a subtle hint of concern, divulged the reasoning behind their relocation. "After the attack, we decided," she began, her voice dropping to a more hushed tone, "that the old town was no longer safe for you. This place offers more protection, and your identity will be safer here."The explanation, a sobering reminder of the danger that still lingered over them, brought a sense of gravity to the conversation. Damian, his eyes lowered in silent contemplation, nodded in understanding.

Damian, his voice a low murmur of resignation, spoke the words aloud as the implications of their move sank in. "So I'll be starting a new school," he said, his tone laced with the weight of his realization.The calm responses of his friends, an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth they had already been privy to, added a sense of isolation to Damian's experience."They knew," he thought, the knowledge a reminder of his own exclusion from the decision-making process.

In the midst of his confusion and the lingering sense of dislocation, Damian managed to find a silver lining to the situation."I suppose this will be easier," he thought, a glimmer of hope flickering in his mind. "I won't have to struggle to remember my classmates, my teachers. I'll be starting fresh, a clean slate in every sense of the word."

As the meal drew to a close, Damian found himself battling the encroaching grasp of a headache, the pain a subtle but persistent presence that threatened to overwhelm him.Despite his efforts to conceal his discomfort, Mrs. Vlad, her maternal instincts honed to a fine edge, quickly detected the signs of his distress."It's time for you to rest, Damian," she said, her voice soft with concern. "You've had a lot to process today, and your body needs time to recover."

Damian, determined to push through his exhaustion, countered his mother's suggestion with a firm protestation. "No, no, I'm fine," he insisted, his voice tinged with a hint of stubbornness. "I don't need to rest."But his body, already worn thin by the events of the day, had other plans.In a dramatic turn of events, Damian's defiance was quickly silenced by the overwhelming weight of his fatigue, his consciousness slipping away in a sudden, unavoidable surrender to sleep.

In the final moments before the darkness of unconsciousness swallowed him whole, Damian caught a fleeting glimpse of Mrs. Vlad's horrified expression, her eyes wide with shock as his head slumped forward in defeat.