I. The Star of Calamity
Monica Warren was born in San Francisco in 2569.
She had a pair of canine teeth, left and right. She looked strikingly like a vampire.
“You are a star of calamity. It’s because of you that I couldn’t hold a grandson. You are a demon.”
Grandmother Olivia had said this sentence ever since Monica was born. Said it up to now. Said it until Monica could not remember when she had first heard it. It was as if it had always been there.
Her father Harlan was the South American manager for the Rim Shipping Group, on business trips to Rio year-round. He returned only every Christmas. Monica was raised by her grandmother. Her mother, Daphne Jones, had divorced Harlan after giving birth to Monica.
Monica had almost no impression of her mother.
II. Olivia
Olivia lived on tight means.
Yet she often bought name-brand clothing for herself, frequenting San Francisco’s Jones Banquet Hall. Naturally, that was Daphne’s maiden home.
The Jones family had existed since the 25th century. Zachary Jones was Daphne’s father and heir to the family. The Jones family operated high-end apparel and accessories, selling globally. Olivia was one of their loyal customers.
In her childhood, Monica was often told by Olivia that she was a picked-up star of calamity. She also said Harlan was a good-for-nothing bastard who knew only how to go on business trips to barren places all day. But how could Monica understand any of that?
On the 10th of every month, Harlan sent 12,000 Alliance Dollars home. The minimum wage at the time was 2,500 Alliance Dollars. The 10th was Olivia’s favorite day. Whenever the money arrived, she would spend it with her aristocratic friends.
“Our Harlan truly wasn’t worthy of your Daphne,” Olivia said with a smile to Zachary. “It’s a good thing they divorced. How wonderful to be rid of that bastard early.”
Every time she finished saying this, Zachary would stuff 2,000 Dollars into her hands. She always declined politely, yet hurriedly shoved it into her purse.
Olivia’s husband Matthew died in a car accident. Amid wind and rain, a large electromagnetic train collided head-on with Matthew, killing him on the spot. The insurance company paid 200,000 Alliance Dollars. The minimum wage then was a mere 800 Alliance Dollars.
Whenever Harlan wanted to start a business, he would ask Olivia where that money went.
“Where would all that money come from? Did your schooling cost nothing? Did your daily living cost nothing? If you want money, earn it yourself. Unambitious creature.” Olivia always held a condescending attitude.
Harlan proved his worth too. He was admitted to the University of California. But Olivia did not think so.
“What’s the point of studying? How much money have you spent studying from middle school till now? You’d have been better off going to work early.”
But Harlan truly wanted to study. Through his reasoned arguments, he finally entered the university classroom. The astronomical tuition became the final straw that broke him.
Until he met Daphne.
III. The Library
Harlan majored in international trade. Daphne in fashion design.
But Harlan possessed immense design talent. The manuscript sketches he drew made Daphne smile at first glance. Two people from different majors sat at the same table in the library, chatting about fabric drape and international tariffs.
Countless people on campus pursued Daphne. She turned them all down, citing studies as priority. Harlan met her in the library. He did not confess his feelings. He simply saved a window seat every morning at seven o’clock and waited for her to arrive.
The bond between the two warmed rapidly. Until an accidental pregnancy after graduation brought them to marriage by a twist of fate.
Upon learning of this, Zachary was furious. How could an aristocratic lady marry a commoner? He demanded Daphne get an abortion.
But she cared deeply for her unborn child and did not obey her father’s order. Using savings secretly put away, she and Harlan successfully delivered Monica.
Thus the two stepped into the hall of marriage. But shortly after marrying, Harlan was transferred to South America. Wanting not to hold back Daphne’s future—and as Zachary demanded—they divorced.
IV. Five Hundred Thousand
At eighteen, Monica received an admission letter from the University of Southern California. She, too, faced tuition issues.
Without hesitation, Harlan transferred 500,000 Alliance Dollars to Monica’s bank account. It was five years of his savings.
At this time, Olivia fell gravely ill and lay in the hospital.
Monica used the 500,000 to cover her grandmother’s medical bills.
In the end, she passed away regardless.
Ultimately she could not continue her studies. She began working odd jobs at a supermarket to pay off debts. Grandmother’s treatment had cost 700,000 in total. She had scraped together 200,000 in loans. But that money was not hers either; it still had to be repaid.
She once tried to find her mother Daphne, only to be stopped at the gate by the butler. There was only a cold sentence:
“Our family no longer has anything to do with yours.”
Daphne showed not the slightest motherly affection, locking Monica out.
Monica stood outside the Jones family villa, looking at the closed door. The door was heavy. Mahogany. On it hung a brass knocker.
She stood for ten minutes. Then turned and left.
V. Justin
Monica worked odd jobs like this for five years. With her father’s help, she raised 200,000 and repaid the debt.
The man who had lent her money was the owner of Justin Exchange, named Justin Bush. He operated a large exchange in San Francisco.
“My grandmother is gravely ill and urgently needs money. But the banks refuse to loan to me because I don’t have a job. My friend told me I could borrow money here.”
Monica timidly petitioned the bearded fat man before her. This was her first foray into society.
The fat man closely examined the petite girl standing before him. Shortly after, he instructed his assistant to bring out 300,000.
“This is a good kid. Take this 300,000. Just pay it back within five years. No interest,” Justin said, smoking a cigar, sitting on a tiger-skin sofa, speaking to the standing Monica.
She nervously accepted the case and counted it: “Actually, I don’t need this much. 200,000 is enough.”
“I see. Then the extra 100,000 is a gift from me.” Justin crossed his legs, preparing to blow smoke forward, but instinctively turned his head and blew it to the side.
Monica shook her head repeatedly, saying quickly: “No need. 200,000 is enough.”
Justin said nothing further either.
VI. The Screwdriver
At twenty-three, Monica was different from other girls. She lacked a trace of innocence.
She remembered when she was nineteen, getting into a confrontation with a customer at a large chain supermarket. The man slashed a cut into her left arm with a knife, calling her an uncultured bastard.
It was her first time striking back. She pulled a screwdriver from inside the counter and blinded the man’s left eye. She spent seven days in prison, released only after Harlan asked a friend to post 50,000 in bail.
When she came out of prison and saw her father, her eyes turned red. She threw herself into Harlan’s arms and sobbed bitterly. Usually Harlan only came home at Christmas. But this time, Harlan did not leave.
“Monica. Dad isn’t leaving anymore. I’ll stay with you always.” Harlan patted Monica’s back gently.
“Why?” Monica asked, her voice choked with tears.
Harlan said nothing.
He did not want his daughter to know he had been laid off by the company. The reason was his blood type: H.
VII. H
Type H blood was a variant of Type AB. Low-end testing tools might fail to detect it, displaying only Type AB. Meanwhile, South America was making mass arrests of people with Type H blood. With the help of local gangs, Harlan spent 150,000 Alliance Dollars to return to San Francisco.
He knew Monica was also Type H. What people called vampires.
“Dad, why did you never tell me I was Type H blood? Why?”
On her twenty-sixth birthday, Monica fractured a bone and only discovered she was Type H blood after going to the hospital.
Harlan went silent.
Ever since then, Monica moved to Los Angeles. Father and daughter communicated only via hypersignal. Or perhaps not even that.
“I just wanted you to live a decent life. I didn’t want to see you swept up in some bloodline doctrine. That’s the very reason I was fired.” Harlan erupted. It was the first time he had lost his temper at Monica.
“But why didn’t you tell me? At least let me know.” Monica screamed and rushed out the door without looking back.
At twenty-six, Monica left home just like that.
VIII. The Governor
As for how she became Governor of the North American Union, no one knew.
Some said she was a vampire who terrified the Alliance leadership, forcing them to grant her the position. That she was merely a mascot. Yet everyone knew her policies were real.
Curfews. Military expansion. Price suppression. Wall construction. Under her rule, the North American Union became an iron cage. She disliked daylight. Most of her decrees were signed late at night. Her office curtains were drawn perpetually.
Monica liked drinking blood.
She discovered this when she was thirty. When her lip split in a fall, she inadvertently tasted her own blood—it was so sweet and crisp.
Some said she frequently went to prisons to drain the blood of death row inmates. But no one had actually seen it. Others said anyone who disagreed with her was drained dry.
Of course, these were all street rumors.
Who knew?
Epilogue: The Knocker
Monica Warren sometimes recalled that mahogany door.
The brass knocker. The butler’s cold voice: “Our family no longer has anything to do with yours.”
She sat in the Governor’s office. The curtains were drawn. A glass of water sat on the desk. The water was cold.
She picked up the glass and took a sip.
Then she signed a new decree. The decree stated: an additional fifteen percent tax surcharge would be levied on all Jones family businesses within the jurisdiction of the North American Union.
In the justification column was written: Anti-monopoly.
She set down her pen. She pulled the curtain open a crack.
Sunlight shone in. She narrowed her eyes slightly.
Then she pulled the curtain closed again.
—End of Chapter 12.