She Drank My Blood, I Rigged It

Synopsis

After living for a thousand years, I genuinely considered calling the police for the first time in my life. Not because someone was aiming a wooden stake at me, but because of a delivery rider. He rang my doorbell, handed me a cold pizza, then grabbed my hand and pricked my fingertip with a portable genetic sequencer. He said with a practiced smile, "Sir, your 'longevity gene' purity rate is 98.7%." Then he handed me a business card. "Care for a membership? We provide full identity concealment, blood commodity trading, and anti-tracking services. Twenty percent off for first-time clients." I glanced at the name printed on it. It read: [Dracula Security]. It was the exact same company I had randomly registered a few centuries ago.