1 The Enthralling Note

I jolted my head from the loud banging on my wooden bedroom door. The faded bronze knob twisted, slowly revealing an officer from the Imperial Unit entering. I did not say a word.

"Don't you have a ceremony today, boy? It's time to serve Moniyan City. Get your ass out of your bed, now", he said to me like he was the boss which in fact, he was, but not anymore, not after today's ceremony.

I nodded in response and did I took my ass outta my bed damn well.

I've arrived at the great hall along with thirty-two other boys who carried stern looks on their faces, undoubtedly will partake in the Nimrōdh, the specialized police unit for demon hunters. I grinned at the sight of these hopeful men who dream to be dandy and slick, having every citizen's applause directed to them. What they do not realize is their phony character that they aim to be only for their ambitious benefit to become infamous, the word-of-mouth. That's how it is in the Moniyan City today, everybody competes for the spotlight.

"Granger", the chief officer of the Imperial Unit called out from the stage, echoing from the microphone. I stood up and straightened out my silky black suit, making my way to the front to meet the spokesman who later asked me, "Will you choose to continue serving the public humbly, or will you pursue to become the city's next demon hunter to look up to?"

Being the aloof, it did bother everyone enough to listen to my choice. I was merely an outcasted boy until I have made an answer, "I will choose to do both."

The murmurs that once filled the hall promptly. Every single eye was laid on me, on my sturdy stand on my decision. Never in the history of the Imperial Unit did one person choose to mop the floors and blast the head of a demon at the same time. I was the first who dared, and since that day, I have never felt obscure once more.

"Granger, you will be placed in the patrol designated in the Scoria District", an old officer with a whitened mustache led me to the group that I will be working with. I met eyes with the blonde man with corneas of icy blue who appeared to have been a demon hunter for years. His scarred cheekbone would say so. The officer then introduced us, "Alucard will be your mentor for a while."

We shook each other's hand, welcoming an acquaintance. His palm was rough, very tough as well. My hand was shamefully soft, comparing to his which absolutely meant how experienced he was. His other hand, however, was enshrouded by a steel glove; each finger with a sharp end, it was almost resembling a claw, perhaps of a demon. Despite the questionable observation, I pretended I did not give it too much dwelling and instead carried on with greeting the rest of the patrol.

"Today will be your first day on duty, and since you have chosen to work for both departments, boy, oh boy, time must not be exhausted. You will still have to accomplish the work hours necessary. Are we clear, laddie?", the officer asked.

"Crystal", I responded. He let out a chuckle and patted my arm while walking away. "You are a clown, Granger."

Rested against a wall rough in the busy streets of the Scoria District, I shammed being a college boy who had one of his earphones on while typing messages on his phone. The rest of the men were either walking repeatedly, conversing in a coffee shop, or ridiculous playing as a homeless beggar. On a lovely sunset afternoon, it was peaceful and neat. I had already guessed that this day was going to be a bore but a passerby caught my attention. He stinks like rotten meat, the sort that you smell from a filthy butcher's begrimed apron that has not been bathed in a pool of bright bubbly soap ever since the beginning of his unsanitary job. Swiftly, I took out my polished gray revolver and blew off the stranger's brains. His chunks exploded everywhere to Alucard's surprise.

"Granger, why did you-" Alucard was disrupted by the thick dark liquid coming out of the man's neck. It was a vanta black. Despite the sunset lights reflecting the concrete floor, the stranger's blood absorbed all the luminescence. Alucard continued to speak, "It's a demon. Granger, you are a son of a governor. Holy hell!"

The rest of the team tidied up the bloody scene that made me sick while I reloaded my gun when a roll of paper slips from the cylinder. Clouded, I picked it up from the ground with inquiry. Unfolding it left a heavy feeling in my chest and another episode of a dyspnea.

"Hello, Mr. Granger. I know your past. I know what's been troubling you. I can be of great help. (035) 475-8903."