The restroom was a tiny, tiled closet with a flickering bulb. Rajendra locked the door, leaned against it, and accessed the System.
The alert was flashing red in his mind's eye.
>> SYSTEM SECURITY ALERT — TIER 0 WORLD (EARTH-PRIME) <<
UNAUTHORIZED TIER-1 LIFEFORM DETECTED.
Designation: Vesperae (Hemovoric Humanoid).
Profile: Humanoid, pale dermis, retractable dermal wings, prehensile tail, elongated canines. Psychotropic lure capability (limited). Photosensitive. Currently in fugue state—likely stranded via dimensional drift.
Location: 20km NE of Host location. Geospatial match: Schloss Falkenberg (abandoned castle), rural Brandenburg.
Status: Feeding on local fauna (non-sapient). Threat to local human population: LOW (for now). Risk of psychic beacon attracting additional Vesperae or predators: HIGH.
Recommended Action: Contain, neutralize, or assist in voluntary exfiltration before planetary contamination escalates.
Note: Entity is wounded and disoriented. May be amenable to negotiation.
Rajendra's mind raced. A vampire alien. In a castle. Twenty kilometers away. While he was in a meeting with a Soviet general about looting an empire.
The absurdity almost made him laugh. He was living in two different pulp novels at once.
He splashed water on his face, took a deep breath, and walked back out.
Krylov was waiting, his expression unreadable. "Better?"
"Better," Rajendra said, sitting down. He decided to pivot, to use the sudden pressure to his advantage. "General, I can move your factories. I can get you your medicine. But I need something else. Not just payment."
"What?"
"A base. Here. In East Germany. Remote, secure, with storage and transport access. Something off the books."
Krylov's eyebrows rose a millimeter. "You want a spy base?"
"I want an insurance policy. For both of us. A place to stage goods, to meet, away from prying eyes in Moscow or Delhi."
Krylov was silent, thinking. Then he glanced at Anya. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug.
"There is a place," Krylov said slowly. "Schloss Falkenberg. An old castle. The Stasi used it for… quiet meetings. It is now empty. The records can be lost. The land around it is state forest. No one goes there."
Rajendra kept his face perfectly neutral. Schloss Falkenberg. The System's coordinates.
"That would be acceptable," he said.
"Then we have an agreement," Krylov said, standing. "The castle is yours. The first shipment from Odessa leaves in three weeks. The antibiotics and blueprint are mine. We will communicate through Anya."
No handshake. No contract. Just a nod—the deal was sealed in silence.
Anya handed Rajendra a small envelope. Inside was a map, a set of coordinates, and an old, heavy iron key.
"The caretaker is… no longer with us," she said quietly. "You will have the place to yourself."
Back in West Berlin, Kapoor was waiting in a dim corner of the hotel bar, drinking mineral water.
"Well?" Kapoor asked.
"We're in business. And we're taking a detour tonight."
"The meeting is over. Our work is done."
"Our work," Rajendra said, "is just getting interesting. We're going property hunting."
An hour later, they were in a rented Opel Kadett, rattling down a dark country road east of the city. Kapoor drove, his man, Lars—a silent Swede with Viking bones—sat in the back, cleaning a pistol with ritualistic care.
"This is a terrible idea," Kapoor stated. "Driving into the East German countryside at night to look at a castle we just 'acquired' from a Soviet general. This is how horror films begin."
"Relax, Kapoor. What's the worst that could happen? Ghosts?"
"Ghosts I can handle. Paperwork from the East German Verkehrspolizei, I cannot."
The forest closed in around them, dark and thick. The road became a track. Finally, the castle loomed out of the trees—a Gothic pile of crumbling stone, jagged turrets against the moonlit sky. It looked less like a real estate opportunity and more like a place where Dracula would complain about the Wi-Fi.
They parked and approached on foot. The great oak door was unlocked. The key wasn't needed.
Inside, the air was cold and smelled of damp stone, mildew, and something else… something coppery-sweet.
Kapoor flicked on a powerful torch. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating a grand hall filled with broken furniture and drifts of leaves. And on the flagstones, the source of the smell: a dead deer, its throat torn open, its body desiccated.
"Not ghosts," Lars murmured, hefting his pistol. "Something with teeth."
They moved deeper, following a trail of scratches on the stone walls. The castle was a maze of corridors and spiral staircases. Rajendra's ring felt warm on his finger.
They reached the highest tower. The room was circular, with narrow windows overlooking the forest. And there, curled in a corner on a nest of old tapestries, was the Vesperae.
It was painfully thin, its skin pale as moonlight. It wore tattered remnants of something that might have been a flight suit. Its eyes were large, pupil-less pools of crimson. As the torchlight hit it, it hissed, scrambling back, and two leathery wings—bat-like, iridescent—flared from its back before retracting with a wet, sliding sound. A long, thin tail lashed behind it.
It bared its fangs—needle-sharp, glistening.
"Bleib stehen!" it rasped in German. "Stay back! Hunger… the light… wrong world…"
Kapoor raised his pistol. Rajendra put a hand on his arm.
"Wait."
He stepped forward, his heart hammering. He held up his hand, focusing on the ring. It flowed, forming the same monomolecular blade from the hotel bathroom. It glowed with a faint, eerie blue light—a side effect of its energy matrix.
The Vesperae's eyes widened. It didn't recognize the knife, but it recognized the energy—the signature of the System, of multiversal technology.
"You…" it whispered, its voice a dry rustle. "You are not of this world. Merchant… I see the mark. You have the Gate."
"I have a way to talk," Rajendra said, keeping his voice low and steady. "Why are you here?"
"Drift… storm in the Void… fell through. Hurt. So hungry. The animals… not enough. The sun here… it burns." It clutched its arm, where a blackened, necrotic wound was visible.
It wasn't a predator. It was a stranded, wounded survivor.
"If I help you," Rajendra said, "you must not harm any humans. Do you understand?"
The Vesperae looked at him, its crimson eyes desperate. "No humans. Promise. Help… go home?"
"I'll try."
Rajendra turned to Kapoor and Lars, who were staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.
"We're securing the castle," Rajendra said. "No one comes in. Especially not the local police or curious hikers."
"You are going to keep it? It?" Kapoor asked, gesturing with his pistol at the cowering alien.
"It's not an 'it.' It's a 'he.' And he's valuable. Or dangerous. Either way, he's my problem now. You two make sure the perimeter is clean. I'll handle this."
Once alone, Rajendra knelt a safe distance from the Vesperae. He accessed the System and opened a channel to Vex.
Rajendra (Earth-Prime): I have a stranded Tier-1 lifeform. Vesperae. Hemovoric, wounded, disoriented. Currently contained. Do you have any… containment solutions? Or a way to send it home?
The reply was almost instant.
Vex: Vesperae. Nuisance species. They swarm. One stranded is curious. Why do you wish to preserve it? Harvesting its psychic glands is more efficient.
Rajendra (Earth-Prime): I'm a merchant, not a hunter. It may have value alive. Or it may attract more if I kill it. I need options.
Vex: Pragmatic. We have a calming agent—a pheromone suppressant. It will dampen its psychic lure and reduce its aggression. It will also require regular feeding of bio-available iron compounds. I can send a vial. Cost: 15 Void-Coins.
Rajendra (Earth-Prime): Send it. And information on Vesperae biology, weaknesses, communication protocols.
Vex: Agreed. Transfer initiated. Do not let it taste human blood. It will develop a… preference.
The transfer chimed. In his jacket pocket, a small, cold vial of viscous purple liquid appeared.
Rajendra showed it to the Vesperae. "This will help. Calm you. Stop you from calling others like you here."
The creature nodded weakly.
Rajendra placed the vial on the floor and backed away. The Vesperae snatched it, uncorked it with its teeth, and drank. Almost immediately, the frantic energy around it faded. Its wings sagged, its tail went still. It looked… tired.
"Thank you, Merchant," it whispered. "Name… is Kael."
"Rest, Kael. I'll bring you proper food. And we'll find a way to get you home."
Dawn was breaking as they drove back to West Berlin. Kapoor was silent for a long time.
Finally, he spoke. "I have seen many strange things. In Kashmir. In Beirut. But that… that was new."
"For me too," Rajendra admitted.
"What are you going to do with it? With him?"
"Keep him contained. Learn from him. And use him, if I can. A being from another world… that's intelligence no government has."
"You are playing with fire, Shakuniya. And not just Earth fire."
"I know."
Back at the hotel, Rajendra placed a secure call to Shanti in Mumbai.
"The meeting went well," he said. "We're moving into heavy machinery. And… I've acquired some European real estate. A castle."
Over the line, he could hear her sigh. "A castle. Of course you did. Is it at least a nice castle?"
"It's got character. And a pest problem. I'm dealing with it."
He didn't tell her about Kael. Some things were better shared in person, over a very strong drink.
After hanging up, Rajendra stood at the window, watching Berlin wake up. He looked at the silver ring on his finger, then at the System map still glowing faintly in his mind, showing the quiet, contained signal at Schloss Falkenberg.
He had come to Berlin to make a deal with a falling empire.
Instead, he had become the warden of Earth's first official alien refugee.
And the strangest part? It felt like just another day at the office.
The merchant's life was getting wonderfully, terrifyingly complicated.