"All hail Sir Hero Dracula!" they all repeated in unison.
'Still with the "Sir Hero" thing… they just don't quit, do they?'
Alfred, or rather, "Dracula" lifted his right hand casually. To his shock, the entire hall fell silent at once.
'Whoa. Didn't expect them to obey that fast.'
He cleared his throat. "Where are we again?"
The nobleman stepped forward. "This, Sir Hero, is the village of Futama. Our village belongs to the Artwine Kingdom, ruled by King Voldin Bravero Malvin. There are seven kingdoms in total. Ours lies on the edge… which makes us a main target. Each kingdom summons their own heroes. They possess several—"
"Alright," Alfred cut him off. "I've got the overview."
'To be honest, I was bored to death for a moment. Like sitting through a history lecture I never signed up for.'
Just then, a man stumbled into the hall, sweat dripping from his face. He rushed to the nobleman, leaned close, and whispered urgently.
Alfred narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"
The noble swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "Sir… it appears the demon army has destroyed the village before us. They are marching this way."
Murmurs of panic surged through the crowd.
'Wow. Perfect timing. Of course the demons had to show up now.'
"How many are there?" Alfred asked.
"Around four thousand."
"And how many do we have?"
"Barely five hundred… at best."
'Great. Outnumbered eight to one. If I don't get out of here, I'm toast. And even if this is just a dream, I'm not dying without having some fun first.'
He exhaled slowly, trying to sound authoritative. "I say… we escape. We're outnumbered. Without strong support, there's nothing I can do."
A hush spread over the hall. Every man tensed, exchanging grim looks. Then, one by one, they nodded.
"You heard our Sir Hero," the noble declared, voice firm but heavy. "Prepare to leave at once!"
The people answered together, resolute but frightened.
And just like that, Alfred Miller, self-proclaimed Dracula, had given his first command in another world.
"Is there any high ground in this village? I need to take a look," Dracula asked.
"Yes, Sir Hero," the nobleman replied quickly. "There is a watchtower nearby. I would have loved to accompany you myself, but as the mayor, I must remain here to coordinate the evacuation. Instead, my daughter will accompany you."
"Alright," Alfred — Dracula — said, trying to sound indifferent.
From the crowd, a young woman stepped forward. She was tall, graceful, her posture refined yet unpretentious. Her dress was simple but carried the kind of stitching only nobility could afford. She bowed slightly. "It's an honor to meet you, Sir Hero Dracula. I'm Alisha Kovich, daughter of Alivan Kovich."
"Not at all," Alfred said, forcing a smile. "The pleasure's mine. Lead the way."
'Wow… I didn't expect his daughter to look this beautiful.'
Alisha walked ahead, her stride confident but careful. Dracula followed close behind. The corridor up to the tower was narrow and made of cold stone; their footsteps echoed softly. The silence between them stretched.
'Come on, say something. You're making it awkward.'
"So… how old are you, Alisha?" he asked.
'I shouldn't have opened my mouth.'
"I'm twenty-four, Sir Hero," she said politely.
"Please, don't call me 'Sir Hero.' I don't like it," Alfred muttered.
"Sorry, Sir Hero," she said without missing a beat.
'Did she even listen?'
"Should I call you only 'Sir' then?" she asked, glancing at him briefly.
"That's better. You can call me by my name if you want."
"No, Sir. We don't use a Hero's name. It's considered disrespectful."
'Whatever.'
They reached the top of the tower. The stone steps ended in a small platform surrounded by a low wall. From up here, Alfred could see the outline of the village, the clusters of roofs, the fields stretching outward, and far beyond, the dark smear of a marching army on the horizon.
Above them, the night sky was softening; faint streaks of light crept through the clouds. Morning was near.
'Why am I not waking up? I've spent a whole night here… but I'm still not waking up.'
"Alisha, can you do me a favor?" Dracula asked suddenly.
She stiffened, her face warming as a shy blush crept up her cheeks. "O-of course, Sir. What do you want of me?"
'Well… let's test this out.'
"Hit me," he said flatly. "As hard as you can."
Her eyes widened. "I—I can't, Sir. I can't strike a Hero. It would be… unforgivable."
"If you don't do it, I'll do it myself," he pressed, his voice firm. "Just do it already."
She hesitated, biting her lip. Then, reluctantly, she raised her right hand. Dracula shut his eyes and drew in a sharp breath.
"Now."
Her palm cracked against his cheek, sharp and clean. Pain jolted through his face, forcing him to wince as he covered the stinging spot with his hand.
"I-I'm so sorry, Sir!" Alisha gasped, horrified.
"No… it's fine," Dracula muttered, forcing a crooked smile.
'Damn, that really hurts! This… this isn't a dream. Not at all. Oh man, I might really be stuck here. Alright, calm down, don't panic. Think. Test more if needed.'
They both descended from the tower. Below, the villagers were nearly ready, bundles tied, carts packed, children gathered close to their mothers. The tension hung heavy in the air, like a storm about to break.
"Let's move!" a man shouted, his voice echoing across the dark fields.
And so they began leaving the village. Some cried quietly, others swallowed their grief, keeping their faces hard. Even the children, too young to understand the weight of danger, walked with heads low and eyes hollow.
The road was sparse, lined only with patches of low grass and scattered stones. There were no trees to shield them, only open land beneath a black sky. Each person carried a flickering torch, the flames dancing and stretching their shadows across the earth.
Dracula sat astride a horse, towering over the procession. Every pair of eyes, fearful, desperate, hopeful, kept drifting to him.
'Why is everyone looking at me like this? It's making me nervous.'
"How long until we reach the next village?" he asked aloud.
"It will take around a full day, Sir Hero," a man replied from the front.
Dracula's grip tightened slightly on the reins.
'What I'm afraid of isn't the travel… or even these demons. If this isn't a dream, if my father finds out I'm gone, he might turn back into the man he once was. The man everyone feared the most.'
On the horizon, the first line of sunlight broke through the night. The sky shifted slowly into hues of orange and gold. For a moment, the glow washed away the villagers' sorrow, softening their faces as they walked.
But Dracula wasn't looking at the sunrise. His eyes were fixed on the opposite sky. He blinked, his mouth parting slightly.
'Why… why is the moon this big? And… why are there three moons?'
After being here all this time, he was noticing the moons only now. Three pale giants hanging in the sky, how could he have missed them?
From beside him, Alisha rode her horse gracefully. She caught his lingering gaze.
"You like the moon more than the sun, sir?" she asked softly.
The words slipped out of his mouth before he even thought. "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"
Alisha's cheeks flushed pink. She lowered her eyes, suddenly shy. Without even realizing it, Dracula had spoken words that sounded far too intimate.
A second later, his mind screamed.
'Crap… did I just propose to her unknowingly? Calm down, calm down. That meaning exists on Earth, but here? They don't know what those words imply.'
He dared a quick glance at her.
Her fingers fiddled with the reins nervously, and her lips pressed into a trembling smile.
'Oh no… it looks like they do know. Damn it, why does poetry have to cross worlds too?'
Before he could recover from the awkwardness, the sky shifted. A sudden fog descended, heavy and unnatural. The morning light dulled, swallowed by a blanket of thick mist.
Then it came.
A deep, guttural roar echoed across the plains, distant but powerful enough to rattle through the villagers' bones.
The hero froze, his heart skipping.
'What the hell was that…?'
The villagers, however, knew. Their faces drained of color, firelights trembling in their hands.
"It's coming…" someone whispered, voice shaking.