The grand hall of the Corvin estate had a way of making people feel small. Maybe it was the high, echoing ceilings or the chandeliers that glittered like frozen lightning.
Maybe it was the old family portraits lining the walls, each one painted with the kind of calm, predatory stare only vampires could pull off.
The scent of the place was just as distinct—polished wood, cold marble, and that faint metallic note every vampire household carried, as if the walls themselves remembered blood.
Two figures sat opposite each other on antique sofas.
On one side lounged Ethan Corvin, eighteen, ash-brown hair falling in careless strands over the crimson eyes that marked his lineage.
Handsome in an infuriating, effortless way—and fully aware of it—he wore an expensive coat tailored. The illusion of aristocratic refinement would've been perfect, if not for the can of Coke in his hand.
On the other sofa sat Principal Larissa Weems—impeccable posture, immaculate suit.
Ethan took a long sip of his drink. "Hmmm… Principal Weems, you do know I'm rich as hell, right? I don't exactly need to attend school."
Weems folded her hands neatly in her lap. "Of course. As a pure-blood vampire from one of the oldest lineages, your status is… unquestioned."
"Good." Ethan lifted the Coke like toast.
"However," Weems continued, voice smooth as polished glass, "you are also the last living descendant of the Corvin family. No parents. No siblings. No extended relatives. Completely alone."
She paused, then added delicately, "Attending Nevermore would provide you with certain… opportunities."
Ethan paused mid-sip.
She continued, unfazed. "Opportunities to extend your family line."
Ethan inhaled sharply—wrong pipe, wrong moment.
He choked. Violently. Twice. Then descended into a coughing fit that echoed off the marble like he was being exorcised.
Slamming the can onto the table, he glared at her. "I—excuse me—what opportunities?"
"Finding a suitable match," she said, as serenely as if discussing weather.
"Continuing the Corvin bloodline. Perhaps even discovering a lovely girlfriend. You are, after all, still in the spring of youth."
Ethan stared at her blankly. "…Are you sure that's something a principal should say?"
"Ordinarily, no," Weems replied without the faintest hint of shame. "But the Corvin family has been a major financial supporter of Nevermore Academy for generations. Losing that sponsorship would be… inconvenient."
Ethan blinked. "So your plan is to send me to school and… hope I fall in love? That's your strategy?"
Weems' smile was elegant, diplomatic—and deeply terrifying. "My strategy, Mr. Corvin, is to give you options. And yes… that is one of them."
Ethan dragged a hand down his face. "Unbelievable. I'm being sent to school for romance."
"You're being encouraged to broaden your horizons," she corrected gently. "And if romance happens to fall within those horizons… destiny has its own way of guiding such things."
He didn't need telepathy to understand the unspoken terms.
Attend Nevermore, and the Corvin sponsorship remains untouched.
Refuse, and she fully expected him to withdraw it.
The implication hung between them like a silent contract.
Ethan exhaled. "Fine. I'll attend."
A ghost of satisfaction flickered in Weems' eyes. "Excellent. I'll arrange the admission paperwork and have your uniform delivered to the estate."
"About the uniform…Nevermore's colors are purple, right?"
"Yes," Weems said, tilting her head slightly. "Why?"
"I prefer black," he replied. "If possible, I want the uniform completely black."
She considered the request for all of two seconds. "Given your family's history with the academy, that can be arranged."
Ethan nodded in acknowledgment.
With nothing more to add, Weems offered him a polite smile and headed toward the exit of the hall.
As Principal Weems left the hall, Ethan exhaled slowly and slumped back onto the sofa. The chandelier above him cast a soft glow across the room, but he barely noticed it. His mind was already racing ahead.
"Nevermore… here I come," he murmured.
A small smile tugged at his lips. Despite the absurdity of everything that had led him here, the idea of stepping into Nevermore Academy—the Nevermore Academy—still filled him with a sharp, boyish excitement.
He would meet Wednesday. Enid. The entire cast of characters he had watched on a screen his whole life.
Except now he wasn't a viewer anymore.
He was part of their world.
The thought felt unreal even now.
After all, only a month ago he was an ordinary boy on Earth, worrying about grades, deadlines, and whether he could scrape together enough money for new headphones.
Then, without warning, he woke up in a coffin-sized bed inside a lavish mansion, surrounded by velvet walls and the overwhelming scent of old stone.
It didn't take him long to realize the truth.
He had transmigrated, just like every cliché novel he'd ever read.
And not into just any world, but into the universe of the Netflix Wednesday series, a world he knew like the back of his hand.
Except the person he became… wasn't familiar at all.
His race had changed first. His body wasn't human anymore—far from it. He had become a vampire. But not one of the watered-down, TV-friendly ones from the show. He was something far beyond that: a pure-blood vampire.
Stronger. Faster. Sharper.
He could lift tons without effort and heal from wounds in seconds.
Sunlight didn't so much as warm him differently.
And with the new body came a new identity—a perfectly constructed one.
He was now the last living descendant of the Corvin family, one of the richest and most influential vampire lineages in existence. Their estate, their legacy, their expectations… all of it had landed squarely on his shoulders.
And like every other poor soul who got isekai'd in novels, he had a system.
Except his system was… strange.
All it ever gave him was its name: [Dimensional Vampire System] — nothing more.
There were no quests, no tutorials, no explanations, and absolutely no guidance.
Even so, he was convinced it was responsible for everything that had happened to him: the transmigration, the new race, and even the identity he was supposed to take on in this world.
From the very first day, the system displayed a single message: [Go to Nevermore].
It never changed, never clarified, and never spoke again. He often wished it would tell him why, what would happen once he got there, or what it expected from him.
But if Nevermore was where everything started, then he had no choice. He'd go— and he'd find out.
*****
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