Budapest, Hungary.
The oppressive sky seemed to weigh upon the entire city.
Dense storm clouds piled atop one another, sealing away the moonlight so completely that not even the faintest glimmer escaped.
Rain poured down in violent sheets, hammering the streets and washing over the city’s centuries-old buildings.
In the shadowy corner of a subway station, Jonathan Hale stood beneath a raincoat.
He raised his head slightly and looked toward the figure standing atop a nearby clock tower.
The woman had short black hair that fell to her shoulders.
Sharp.
Coldly beautiful.
The wind stirred the ends of her hair, lending her an indescribably fierce edge.
She wore a glossy black bodysuit that clung tightly to her figure, accentuating every astonishing curve.
Over it was a long black leather coat, made heavier by the rain yet still whipping violently in the wind.
Her skin was almost unnaturally pale, like moonlight emerging from the darkness.
Her blue eyes were pale and cold.
Her lips carried a hint of dangerous allure.
Her expression remained impassive.
Merely standing there was enough to reveal her identity.
A member of the vampires’ elite combat force.
The Death Dealer, Selene.
“Looks like the plot hasn’t truly begun yet.”
Jonathan watched her and silently reached his conclusion.
Once he had confirmed that he had arrived at the right point in the timeline, he pulled the hood of his gray raincoat lower, concealing most of his face, and headed toward the subway entrance.
Since Selene was already watching the station, Michael Corvin was probably somewhere nearby.
Jonathan’s objective in coming here had been clear from the very beginning.
He wanted the Perfect Blood flowing through Michael’s veins.
As a direct descendant of Alexander Corvinus, Michael possessed an extraordinarily unique bloodline.
It could allow bloodlines that would normally conflict with one another to coexist within the same body.
More incredibly, it could automatically eliminate their inferior traits while retaining only their truly valuable advantages.
For the current Jonathan, something like that was simply too important to ignore.
He stopped beside a newsstand and carefully surveyed his surroundings.
Rainwater streamed from the edge of the awning and struck the ground in rapid succession.
This should be the spot.
The place where Michael had treated a bystander who was shot in the movie.
Jonathan recalled the original scene before his gaze settled on a nearby pillar.
If he remembered correctly, this was where the male and female leads had first encountered each other.
Once he had confirmed the location, Jonathan walked over, leaned casually against the pillar, and waited in silence.
The rain continued pouring outside the station.
It showed no sign of stopping.
Unfortunately, Michael had left home without an umbrella that day.
He could only pull up the hood of his jacket and use it to shield himself from the rain as best he could.
Behind him, a burly Black man wearing a brown fur coat followed closely.
Michael failed to notice him.
Completely unaware that he had already been targeted, he kept his head lowered and hurried into the subway station, splashing through puddles along the way.
When he reached the platform, a figure suddenly entered his field of vision.
Michael instinctively took a second look.
Before he could see the person clearly, however, a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Michael Corvin?”
Michael turned around.
Standing before him was a young man with black hair, dark eyes, and sharply defined features.
He did not appear very old, yet there was something unnervingly calm about his gaze.
“Yes, that’s me,” Michael replied instinctively.
“Don’t make a sound.
Come with me.”
As soon as those words left Jonathan’s mouth, something cold and hard pressed against Michael’s side.
Michael’s expression changed instantly.
A chill ran down his spine, and cold sweat immediately broke out across his skin.
“Hey, take it easy, man.”
His breathing quickened, and even his voice became tense.
This was hardly somewhere he could count on being completely safe.
His first thought was that he was being robbed.
Jonathan had no intention of wasting time explaining himself.
He simply pressed the gun more firmly against Michael’s side, his voice turning colder.
“Stop talking and move.”
Michael no longer dared to resist.
His body stiffened as Jonathan slowly forced him forward.
As for Raze—the werewolf who had followed Michael all the way here, and the burly Black man in the fur coat—there was no chance he would simply stand by and watch Michael be taken away.
He immediately quickened his pace, preparing to seize Michael back.
What he did not know was that they were not the only ones watching Michael.
On the other side of the station, a team of Death Dealers had also been secretly tracking them.
Before Raze could make his move, Jonathan dragged Michael into the subway car.
Because of that sudden action, Raze missed his chance to meet Selene’s gaze.
Just as he was about to charge into the car, his nose caught a familiar and revolting scent.
The scent of vampires.
Raze’s eyes turned vicious as a low growl escaped his throat.
“Vampires!”
The next instant, he drew two pistols and unleashed a storm of bullets at one of the male Death Dealers.
Gunfire erupted.
The deafening reports ricocheted through the subway station, each echo sharper and more piercing than the last.
Inside the train car, Michael had already curled into a ball with his hands covering his head.
The gunshots came too quickly and too densely.
Each one seemed to explode directly against his eardrums, leaving him with the terrifying impression that the next bullet would tear into his body.
“What the hell is going on?”
He raised his head and looked at Jonathan.
His face was pale, and lingering terror filled his eyes.
If this man had not forcibly dragged him into the train moments earlier, he would most likely have been caught in the middle of the gunfight.