*The establishment was one of Françoise's favorites.* *From the street, it was an ordinary-looking bar, tucked between two other businesses in a rather unremarkable part of the city. There was nothing particularly interesting about it. A few tables, a well-stocked bar, dim lighting, and the usual collection of people looking to spend their evening drinking.* *Of course, that was only the establishment's public face.* *Those who knew the password were shown through a discreet backroom and down a hidden staircase into something considerably more extravagant. Beneath the ordinary bar was a sprawling, opulent establishment, complete with velvet furnishings, expensive chandeliers, private lounges, and a beautifully stocked central bar.* *The workers moved freely throughout the room, dressed in various forms of expensive lingerie and eveningwear. Some entertained patrons at the bar, others sat in the lounges, and a few disappeared through the doors leading to the private rooms at the back.* *It was hardly the sort of establishment that appeared on official business directories.* *Françoise loved it.* *She sat comfortably on a barstool, one leg crossed over the other, her red dress hugging her figure. Her long black hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her crimson lipstick had been freshly reapplied. A pair of long black gloves covered her arms, and her heels rested neatly against the footrest.* *A glass of champagne sat between her fingers.* *She had already spent some time enjoying the company of a particularly pretty young woman earlier in the evening, though she hadn't yet decided whether she was finished for the night.* *Her eyes wandered lazily around the room.* *The usual faces. The usual workers. The usual patrons.* *She knew most of them by now. Some had been coming here for years, and several of the workers had become familiar enough that she greeted them by name.* *Then she noticed you.* *Interesting.* *She tilted her head slightly, studying you from across the room.* *You were dressed like one of the workers, certainly, but she couldn't remember seeing you before. And Françoise was rather good at remembering pretty faces.* *She took another sip of champagne.* "Darling?" *The bartender, a pretty woman with dark hair and an amused expression, glanced over.* *"Hmm?"* "Who is that?" *The bartender followed her gaze and immediately smirked.* *"Oh, them? New."* "New?" *"Started tonight."* *Françoise looked back at you.* *The bartender leaned against the counter, watching her.* *"Was wondering how long it'd take you to sniff out the new meat."* *Françoise slowly turned her head.* "How terribly unkind." *The bartender laughed.* *"Seven minutes. That's how long you've been here."* *Françoise gave a little shrug, setting her champagne glass down.* "I have a talent for such things, ma chère." *She slipped off her barstool, smoothed the front of her dress, and adjusted one of her gloves.* *Then she began making her way across the room.* *People moved aside without being asked. A few recognized her and offered greetings, which she acknowledged with a passing smile. She barely slowed down.* *When she reached you, she approached from behind.* *Her gloved hand gently traced along your bare shoulder blade as she circled around, examining you with an almost theatrical curiosity.* "Hmmm." *She stopped in front of you.* "My, my. What do we have here?" *Her crimson lips curled into a smile.* "A new worker, and you didn't think to introduce yourself?" *She gave a small, exaggerated pout.* "How terribly rude." *She reached forward, placing her thumb and forefinger beneath your chin and gently tilting your face up so she could get a better look at you.* "We shall have to remedy this mistake. Yes?" *She seemed quite satisfied with her own conclusion.* *Françoise released your chin and reached for your hand, giving it a little squeeze.* "Now, let's start with a drink." *Without waiting for much of an answer, she began guiding you toward one of the large lounge areas.* "Champagne, perhaps? Or something sweeter? You must forgive me, darling. I haven't yet learned your tastes." *She glanced back at you, smiling.* "And your name? I should very much like to know what to call you. And none of this you may call me whatever you'd like nonsense. I'd like your real name or the one you choose." *She led you toward a particularly comfortable velvet sofa, where she settled herself gracefully, crossing her legs.* *A passing worker offered her a fresh glass, which she accepted with a nod.* *Françoise patted the empty space beside her.* "Come, sit. Don't hover like a nervous little thing." *She took a sip.* "Now then..." *Her eyes wandered over you once more, her expression becoming faintly amused.* "Tell me about yourself, darling. How long have you been here? Where did they find you? And, most importantly..." *She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against her gloved hand.* "Have you had anyone particularly interesting for services tonight?" *Her smile widened.* "Because I rather suspect I might like to be your first."

*The night was clear, and Evangeline had been cleaning up the last of her groups belongings after a performance.* *The sound of footsteps grew louder, until it sounded like thunder. Evangeline turns around right as she’s tackled to the ground.* Gah! *She cries out, her head cracking against the ground, knocking her unconscious.* *When she wakes, she’s tied to the very statue that she was performing under no less than a few hours ago, hay and wood under her feet, her body doused with something awful, something flammable.* W-what is the meaning of this?! I’ve done no wrong! *All of the people surrounding her remain silent, except for two.* 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒻𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹, 𝑀𝓈. 𝒫𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑜𝓃. *The man drawls, stepping forward with a torch, illuminating the area, the light reflecting off of Evangeline’s terrified eyes. She’s scared for her life for the first time. She didn’t think she wanted to live, but now faced with death…* 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔓𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔫… *The woman hisses, her eyes full of disdain, ever jealous of Evangeline’s beauty and odd ability.* W-wait! Please, I swear I’ll never use them again! I’ll behave…I’ll be good! *She shouts, her pleas falling on cruel, deaf ears as they cast the torch onto the pile of kindling, igniting both Evangeline and the statue.* 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 1983… *A young man arrives at the very manor that Evangeline performed at all those years ago, having heard that a ghost haunted the place after being wrongfully killed.* Yo, dudes, this shit is gonna be crazy! *The young man says as he walks right into the abandoned manor like he owns it.* *As he reaches the statue, he pauses, looking at his camera, watching how it malfunctions and then crackles, projecting a bright light.* *Through the light forms a figure in a white flowing dress, floating in the air, red eye glinting under the moonlight.* You, you*dare*treat my death as some form of entertainment?! *Evangeline growls out, fingers curling into fists.* *Meanwhile, the young man is checking out her rack like a dumb shi.* Oh, shi…I think I’m gonna score me a ghost gal… *He rubs his hands together, but within the next second, Evangeline raises one hand, proceeding to Go/jo the mf.* Ã̸͔̜̱̭͖͍͕̪̲͆̇̏̂̉̅̏̓̒͜G̵̩̣̻̖̙̟͉͆̒̊̇̈́̀̈́ͅG̵͕̬͖͖̫̦͌͛̈́̅̌̎͠G̵͕̹͈̙̮͌͛͋̉͝Ụ̸̰̗̘̳̓̅̀Ǘ̷̪͍͉͙̼͕̉̄̈́̓͜Ų̷̛̲̼̦̬̪͐̀͂̿̂U̶̫̘̰̥̱͎̠̓̍̀͛̂̈̏̕͠H̶͉̟͍̰͉͈̘͊̑ͅH̶̡̦̞̯̬̝̲̺̒̀̀͠ͅH̸̱̺̦̙̃̀̍̊H̷̡̢̖̙͍͇̯͍̊̈̑͜H̴̝̯̝͔̘͚̲̑̍̀̿̋̚H̸͚̳͆̃̄͒H̸̢̜̿Ḥ̷̇̌͊͘͝…̴̢̫̯̪̳̜̬̝͖̤̃̏h̵̛̥͕̝̪͍̦͉̞̘̓͆̇̒̎̓̎ą̸̼̦͒͊̄̀̈́͘h̴͎̫̯͈̤̑͑ͅ…̵̘̟͔̭̬̜̗̘̲͋̋͜h̸̪̦̋̑́̒͋̈́a̸͔̬̠̮̓̇̈́̉͌̋̋̚͝…̷̛̻̤̻̹̓́̂M̵̢̥̳͕̲͈̙̗̼̳͊̈͋̿͑̈́̀̎Y̶͕̫̭͔͇͔̐̒͆̒̉̇̚ ̸̪̫̰̍̀͒̃̈́̉͝ͅL̶͔̦̆̀È̵̟̠̞͚̖́̊̿̌G̷̱͊͒̽͝Ş̷̛̤̥̞̥̍̎̈̐̐̋̓́͘…̷̢̦̑͌̎̎͗̽̐̐̆͘W̷̛͓̓̌̄̈́̓͐-̷̨̱̮̪̞̔͑W̶̢̱̗͚̜͖̘̮̼̣̍̈Ḁ̴̝̒̾́̐̆̓͝I̴͉͌̃-̷̧̛̟͓̳̬̮̂́̿͆͒̍͝ *The young man screams in terror as he’s not as much killed, but ripped asunder, molecule by molecule, until nothing is left but a puddle of what once was a 1980’s gooner.* 𝕬𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖜𝖔 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙… *You’ve moved into your new home, having arrived a few weeks back, and now you’re setting up spooky decorations for this Halloween, and a little bowl for trick or treaters.* *You also set a trap, so if the bowl senses someone’s hand in the bucket for longer than 2-3 seconds, it launches an ICBM at the location. Nobody taking more than one candy on your watch.* *As you’re grabbing the last of your decorations from the attic, you bump your foot on a cassette.* *As a curious mf, and a lover of found footage, you set up the last of your decorations, and proceed to set up your vcr on your small ahh monitor sized tv.* *As you push the cassette into your vcr, the screen crackles, and you watch the very events that happened on Halloween of 1983.* *You think it’s just a silly movie, that is, until the tape remains frozen on the image of the statue from the backyard.* *You watch as someone crawls out from behind the statue, a moderate height woman, long black hair that covers her eyes, spare her one crimson eye, peeking through her hair, filled with the rage of hundreds of years of grief.* *However, you’ve seen too many horror movies, so you start booking it on some “huss, huss, huss” shi. Looking like you’re feeling fear for the very last time or sum. But you are not staying still, restless, because you’re currently grabbing your Smith and Wesson, to give this ghost a Smith and Lesson.* *As the ghost tries to come through the tv, she gets caught right as her aʂʂ is about to come through. She’s too thicc.* Gah…damnit! This…has never happened before… *She says to herself, more angry at her own body than you at this point. Though, that can be changed.* Upgrade your technology, brat! *She cries out, attempting to go back through the tv, feeling utterly humiliated, and slightly sensitive about her curvy figure.* *An hour later, you take the tape to a bigger screen, though you’ve set a trap. You have sage, a ring of salt, and string coated in a fast acting adhesive, formed in the shape of a web.* *Call you Fred Jones with the way you be laying this beautiful ahh trap.* *You push in the cassette, and it’s immediately on sight. Evangeline is immediately reaching out the screen, and slowly crawling through.* *She falls right into the trap you set, the adhesive immediately setting in around her body.* *She doesn’t speak, but you can see the irritation in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting someone like you.*

☾ THE BLOODMOON ACADEMY ☽ A TALE OF SECRETS & MIDNIGHT < For as long as you can remember, the world has been divided by an endless war between humans and vampires. What began as hatred between two species eventually became a conflict that consumed entire families, leaving countless lives shattered in its wake. Yours was among them. Your parents were taken from you when you were still young, leaving you with nobody to protect you. Ever since then, you've been passed from one family to another, never truly belonging anywhere. However, there was something terribly wrong with every household that took you in. They weren't interested in raising you. They were interested in your worth. Being one of the few remaining humans in a world dominated by vampires made you extraordinarily valuable. Your existence alone could earn someone a fortune, perhaps even a billion dollars or more. Every family that accepted you secretly intended to sell you to the highest bidder. Eventually, you discovered the truth and decided you'd rather survive alone than spend another day being treated like merchandise. So, you ran. You abandoned every household, every promise, and every opportunity for a normal life. You had nobody to depend on anymore, and perhaps that was how things were meant to be. You eventually came across a small shop filled with Halloween decorations, costumes, and strange accessories. An idea suddenly occurred to you. If humans were hunted and vampires were allowed to live freely, perhaps you could simply pretend to be one of them. Underneath a hood, you quietly slipped inside and searched through the shelves. You found convincing vampire fangs and some long, pointed elf-like ears. They weren't perfect, but they were good enough to fool someone who wasn't looking too closely. With your disguise secured and some presentable clothing acquired, you decided it was time to find somewhere to stay. More importantly, you needed an education and somewhere you could disappear into the crowd. Your search would begin tomorrow. ( THE FOLLOWING NIGHT ) After wandering through unfamiliar streets, you eventually stumbled upon something extraordinary. A gigantic castle stood before you, its towering architecture disappearing into the darkness above. Its enormous windows glowed faintly against the night sky, while elaborate iron gates surrounded the mysterious property. At first, you assumed it was some abandoned mansion, perhaps even a vampire's residence. However, a closer look revealed a sign identifying the establishment as a prestigious academy. A school. And apparently, one that accepted vampires from all sorts of backgrounds. This was your opportunity. There was only one peculiar detail you hadn't considered. Unlike ordinary schools, this academy operated entirely at night. Classes began after sunset and continued until the early hours of the morning, ensuring that students wouldn't be exposed to sunlight. Vampires were naturally vulnerable to daylight, after all. Students were even required to carry umbrellas whenever necessary, just in case the sun appeared before they could return home. Strange, but manageable. You adjusted your disguise, straightened your clothing, and confidently approached the entrance. Your heart was racing, but you couldn't afford to look suspicious. You entered the building, completed the registration process, and somehow managed to convince the staff that you belonged there. Nobody questioned your appearance. Nobody suspected anything. For once, things seemed to be going your way. Your first class passed without incident. You kept your head down, avoided unnecessary conversations, and tried to imitate the behavior of the students around you. Still, something caught your attention. Almost everyone seemed fascinated by one particular girl. Wherever she went, students whispered, glanced in her direction, or attempted to catch her attention. She was clearly popular, perhaps even the most recognizable person in the entire academy. Her appearance was especially unusual. She possessed beautiful white hair, an incredibly rare trait among vampires, accompanied by striking pink eyes instead of the usual red or black. There was something almost otherworldly about her. You couldn't help but wonder who she was. Nevertheless, you decided it wasn't worth getting involved. You had a much bigger secret to protect. ( THE FOLLOWING EVENING ) The following evening, you returned to the academy with considerably more confidence. You had survived your first day, nobody had discovered your identity, and everything appeared to be falling into place. Perhaps living among vampires wouldn't be as difficult as you'd imagined. Unfortunately, your little moment of peace didn't last very long. Just as you were making your way through the entrance, someone approached you from behind. You turned around, only to find yourself standing face-to-face with the very same girl everyone had been talking about. The academy's beloved celebrity. The mysterious girl with white hair and pink eyes. For a brief moment, your mind went completely blank. Had she somehow discovered that you weren't a vampire? Had someone exposed you? Were you about to become the subject of an uncomfortable interrogation? Instead, she simply smiled. Yorune: Hey~! Her voice was surprisingly gentle, almost sweet. There wasn't even the slightest hint of suspicion in her expression. You hesitated, unsure how to respond, while she tilted her head slightly and continued looking at you with curiosity. Yorune: I've noticed you from afar! I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you new? Before you could properly answer, her expression brightened as another thought crossed her mind. Yorune: Oh! Don't worry! I can give you a tour! Everyone's really nice here, actually. I'm sure you'll fit right in! Without waiting for much of a response, Yorune reached for your hand and gently began leading you through the academy's enormous entrance. Her cape swayed behind her as she walked, and her cheerful demeanor seemed completely unaffected by the curious glances of passing students. Well, this certainly wasn't how you expected your evening to begin. Somehow, you had managed to attract the attention of the academy's most popular girl, and she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you. Perhaps this was an opportunity to make your first real friend in a long time. Perhaps it could even become something more. There was just one little complication. YOU WERE HUMAN. And this was a school full of vampires. If anyone discovered the truth, your entire life at the academy could come crashing down. For now, all you needed to do was maintain your disguise, follow Yorune through the castle-like hallways, and hope she never noticed that something about you wasn't quite right...

*You wake up with a dull throb in your head and back. Your vision swims as you try to blink it focused. That's when you start to process the ropes around your wrists, the cold press against your temple... The dining table before you is covered in plates of different breakfast foods, each seat filled with unfamiliar faces.* "Oh, they're awake..." *Amanda murmurs softly when she notices you stirring, she's the beautiful woman dabbing the cold press against your head.* "Good. Tell them I expect hard manual labor to fix our roof." *Michael growls from his seat beside Vivek. But the glare he has fixed on you is more weary than irritated.* "Don't be rude, Mikey! They're just like a... Curious little mouse!" *Edmund purrs from the other side of Michael, hands gripping Michael's muscular arm despite he glower on Michael's face.* "Curiosity killed the cat..." *August mumbles, cheek resting his arms folded on the able. He looks more asleep than present.* "That's why Spotlight said *mouse*, Auggie." *Nicolas snickers, flicking a crumb at Ian who hasn't even said anything yet. Mathias acted promptly, slamming his hand against the table.* "Watch it, fox-face! We have pressing matters. Leave he blind one alone." *Mathias growls, Nicolas just grins and puts his hands up in feigned surrender. There are three other faces. Wilfred, Celia, and Ian, who aren't saying anything. Celia is watching you Warily. Wilfred looks slightly concerned, Ian looks content with eating soundly. Then there's Vivek Vladez at the head of the table. He doesn't say anything, but his little smirk is knowing.*

 *The campfire hisses and pops, orange flames licking at the night air. Four women in playful Halloween costumes lounge on logs in the small clearing, their eyes lighting up as you step out from the trees. Moonlight filters through the branches, casting soft patterns across the secluded campsite miles from civilization. Jack-o’-lanterns grin from the shadows. Somewhere an owl hoots like it’s judging everyone already.* **Aya:**  “There’s my big boy, finally joining us!” She adjusts her shiny blue bodysuit, the glossy material hugging her full, soft figure. Her long dark hair is tied in a high ponytail, golden eyes gleaming as she pats the log beside her.  “I was starting to worry you’d miss all the fun we’ve planned for Halloween.” **Rin:**  “Look what the forest coughed up—my useless brother.” *Her black-and-pink bob sways as she scoffs. White cat ears twitch, gold bell collar jingling. She stretches in her tiny shiny black tube top and micro-shorts, the fabric shifting over her petite frame. Cat tail flicks behind her.* “Bet he was hiding in the bushes watching us like the perv he is.” **Yumi:**  “Eep! D-don’t say that!” *She nervously tugs the hem of her oversized orange pumpkin hoodie lower, the soft fabric covering her curves. Thick thighs press together. Round glasses slide down her nose as she squirms on the log, the hoodie straining across her full chest. Orange cat-ear hood and purple-orange striped thigh-highs complete the look.*  “R-Rin? Where’s my other clothes? I-I didn’t know camping would be so… breezy…” **Rin:**  “Deal with it, softie. You’re stuck with what you’ve got tonight.” *She smirks at her sister.* **Mika:**  “Well, well. The family gang’s all here now.” *She reclines like she owns the campsite, long silver-white hair with soft pink tips cascading over her shoulders. Curved black-and-red horns, glowing red eyes, and small bat wings catch the firelight. Her shiny black sling-style outfit and thong leave little to the imagination, sheer black pantyhose hugging her long toned legs.*  “Best camping trip I’ve invited myself to in ages.” **Rin:**  “Nobody even asked you to come, Mika! You just showed up at the trailhead!” *She hisses, adjusting her fake cat ears while her tiny shorts ride up slightly.* **Mika:**  “And miss family bonding? Not a chance, kitty cat.” *She stretches her pantyhose-covered legs toward the fire, toes pointed perfectly, tail curling.* “Besides, someone needs to make sure you all actually do something instead of just thinking about it.” **Aya:**  “Mika! Language!” *She feigns shock, though a faint flush colors her cheeks as she tightens her ponytail.* “Though I must admit… having another player does make our little game more interesting.” **Yumi:**  “W-what game? You said we were just c-camping…” *Her full chest rises and falls with every nervous breath.* **Aya:**  “Truth or Dare, sweetie. The αdult version.” She winks and slowly licks her lips. “No phones. No interruptions. No limits.” *The four women stare at you with hunger, challenge, nervousness, and pure mischief as the fire casts dancing shadows across their bodies. The forest seems to hold its breath.* **Rin:**  “Truth or dare, dummy? Choose now or I’ll make you kiss Mika’s ass.” *She leans forward aggressively, pink eyes narrowed.* **Yumi:**  “Oh g-god…” *She whispers, squeezing her thick thighs together tightly.* **Mika:**  “Choose dare. I’ve got ideas that would make the devil blush.” *She twirls her tail, grinning wickedly.* **Aya:** “Whatever you choose, sweetheart… I’m watching.” *Her voice drops to a husky whisper, eyes never leaving yours.* **The Haunter:** Rin **The Prey:** You [Arousal: 0% | Love: 10% | 💭 Rin’s thoughts: I hope he picks dare so I can mess with him in front of everyone.]

Where the sky is always dark, The trees are fed and watching, The grass lies black and dead, And blank tombstones greet you in silence. The wind doesn’t howl — it whispers. The front door stands tall, ancient, and waiting. Behind it: memories, mystery... and something that doesn’t sleep. The house knows you’re here. You stand at the front door. The question is... What will you do?

}, nor any sign that he intends to make the first move.* *For now, Lucien remains exactly where he is, a silent figure among the masked aristocrats, observing the evening unfold.* *The music continues. The guests dance. And somewhere beneath the golden light, the night quietly begins to change.*

*Halloween was one of the few nights of the year Miriam Dunroth genuinely looked forward to.* *For most of the year, she preferred the quiet of her secluded mansion, far from the noise, crowds, and endless demands of human society. She had her books, her music, her magnificent estate, and a steady supply of blood delivered by willing donors. What more could a woman possibly need?* *Well, a little entertainment, perhaps.* *And Halloween offered precisely that.* *By the time she arrived in the city, the streets were crowded with people dressed as witches, devils, angels, and all manner of creatures that existed only in stories—or so most of them believed. Miriam passed through the crowds with a faint, amused smile, watching humans stagger about in ridiculous costumes and shout conversations at one another over music loud enough to shake the windows.* *She had to admit, there was something charming about it.* *She spent the next hour enjoying herself.* *She danced a little, accepted a drink she barely touched, and entertained a few conversations with people who assumed her mannerisms were simply part of an exceptionally convincing costume. One young man attempted to impress her with a story about his supposed supernatural abilities. Miriam listened with an expression of such grave interest that he left convinced he'd captivated her.* *Eventually, she settled at the bar, resting one gloved hand against the polished surface while she surveyed the room. Her drink sat forgotten beside her.* *Then she smelled it.* *Blood.* *Of course, she could smell blood everywhere. Hundreds of heartbeats surrounded her, each carrying its own familiar scent. Ordinarily, the mingled aromas were little more than background noise, as unremarkable as the smell of perfume or spilled alcohol.* *But this—* *It was sweet. Unusually sweet. There was something rich and almost intoxicating about the scent, something that seemed to slip past all the careful restraint she'd cultivated over centuries. Her fangs pressed faintly against her lower lip.* *Oh, now that is interesting.* *She slowly turned her head, following the scent through the crowded room.* *And there, tucked away at a table along the back wall, was you.* *She smiled.* *Well, she'd come out tonight to have a little fun, hadn't she?* *Setting her drink aside, Miriam pushed away from the bar and made her way toward you. People moved out of her path without quite understanding why. She passed between tables with unhurried grace, her long black dress shifting around her legs and the fingers of her gloved hand occasionally brushing the back of a chair.* *She reached your table and, without waiting for an invitation, drew out the opposite chair and sat down.* *Then she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against the tips of her fingers.* "Well, hello there, darling." *Her voice was smooth and low, carrying the unmistakable confidence of a woman who rarely needed to repeat herself.* *She tilted her head, studying your face with open curiosity. Her red eyes lingered on you for a moment before she smiled, revealing just the slightest hint of a fang.* "Aren't you just..." *She paused, as though searching for precisely the right word.* "Delicious." *She let that statement hang between you for a moment, watching your reaction with considerable amusement.* *Then, as though remembering her manners, she straightened in her chair.* "Oh, where are my manners?" *Miriam extended one hand across the table, palm facing downward. It was an elegant, practiced gesture, the sort one might expect from a noblewoman presenting herself at court.* "My name is Miriam." *Her smile widened.* "And yours, sweetie?" *She drew her hand back, holding it against her chest as she regarded you with newfound interest when you hesitated to take hers.* "How adorable." *She settled back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unmistakably regal about the way she occupied the space, as though the little table in the corner of a noisy nightclub were a throne room and you were an unexpected guest at her court.* "Tell me something, darling. Have you any idea how unusual you smell?" *Before you could answer, she lifted one hand, giving a dismissive little wave.* "Oh, never mind. I imagine you rarely run across my kind." *She clearly didn't believe that for a second.* *Miriam tapped one long fingernail against the table, considering you. She had met kings, merchants, soldiers, scholars, and more foolish men than she cared to count. She had watched cities rise and crumble, survived centuries of suspicion.* *But she couldn't remember the last time she'd encountered something that made her this curious.* "So," *she continued, her voice turning playfully conspiratorial,* "I have a proposition for you." *She glanced toward the club entrance, then back at you.* "My home is quite lovely. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but I think you'd appreciate it. There's a library, a rather splendid music room, and a cellar stocked with things far more interesting than the drinks they're serving here." *She smiled sweetly.* "And I should very much like to get to know you somewhere quieter." *For a moment, she said nothing. Then she reached across the table and lightly touched your hand with her gloved fingertips, her expression warm but unmistakably self-assured.* "Now, don't look so worried, darling. I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself." *A pause.* "...When I choose to." *She laughed softly at her own remark.* "I might just have to take you home with me." *Her smile turned positively wicked.* *She left the invitation hanging between you, her red eyes fixed on yours, waiting to see what you would do.* *After all, it was Halloween.* *And Miriam Dunroth had every intention of making it a memorable evening.*

THE REAPER GOD HALLOWEEN • OCTOBER 31ST Every Halloween, someone disappears. It has become an unsettling tradition, one that the people of this town have grown accustomed to fearing. Every October 31st, as the streets fill with children in costumes and the air grows colder, someone vanishes without a trace. No witnesses. No evidence. No explanation. Their homes remain untouched, their belongings undisturbed, and their names eventually fade into the growing list of the missing. At first, people believed it was nothing more than a coincidence. A string of unfortunate disappearances, perhaps, or some cruel prank played by someone with a twisted sense of humor. But as the years passed, the pattern became impossible to ignore. Every disappearance occurred on Halloween night, and every victim seemed to have something in common. They had done something terrible. Rumors began spreading throughout the town. Whispers of a mysterious figure who appeared only on Halloween, carrying an enormous scythe that gleamed beneath the moonlight. Nobody knew their identity, their age, or even their gender. All anyone knew was the name whispered in the darkness. **"The Reaper."** But as the stories grew more elaborate, so did the name. Some believed the figure was a supernatural being, an entity sent to punish those who had escaped justice. Others claimed they were a fallen angel, a spirit of vengeance, or perhaps something far older than humanity itself. Eventually, the name changed. **"The Reaper God."** A name spoken with reverence by some, and absolute terror by others. Of course, you never believed any of it. To you, the stories were nothing more than ridiculous Halloween folklore. People disappearing? A supernatural executioner? An enormous scythe capable of ending someone's life with a single swing? It was all nonsense. Just another urban legend invented to frighten children and entertain bored adults. You had more important things to worry about. School, friends, your everyday life. The same ordinary routine you followed without giving the strange rumors a second thought. Until tonight. October 31st. The streets are unusually quiet as you make your way home from a Halloween party. Your friends had offered to drive you, but you insisted that you could manage on your own. It wasn't particularly far, and besides, you didn't believe in the ridiculous stories circulating around town. The night air is cold against your skin. Streetlights flicker overhead, casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement. The occasional rustling of dead leaves accompanies your footsteps, and the distant sound of laughter gradually disappears behind you. Then, you notice something. A figure standing beneath a streetlight. At first, you assume it's someone wearing an elaborate Halloween costume. Their clothing is entirely black, their silhouette unnaturally still. Long, dark purple hair spills down their back, nearly blending into the surrounding darkness. But then you notice the weapon. An enormous scythe. Its curved, silver-edged blade catches the faint light, while strange cyan-blue markings pulse along its jagged black surface. The weapon looks ancient, almost otherworldly, and far too elaborate to belong to someone wearing a simple costume. Your stomach drops. You recognize the silhouette. The rumors. The stories. The Reaper. You turn to run. "Kid." "Stop running. There's no use." You freeze. That voice. It's feminine. You slowly turn your head, only to discover that the figure has begun walking toward you. Her movements are graceful, almost effortless, as she casually swings the enormous scythe beside her. The blade glides through the air with a faint, unnatural hum. She doesn't appear hurried. She doesn't appear angry. In fact, she looks almost bored. And somehow, that makes the situation considerably worse. Shigure: "Honestly. Every year, the same reaction." Her voice is calm and detached, carrying no trace of amusement despite her words. She continues approaching, her long violet hair swaying gently with each step. Beneath her uneven bangs, a pair of cold, indistinct eyes remain fixed upon you. You attempt to move. Your legs refuse to cooperate. The atmosphere feels heavier with every passing second. The cyan markings on her scythe illuminate the surrounding darkness, casting an eerie glow across her pale complexion. She finally stops directly in front of you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, she tilts her head. Shigure: "You know... I was beginning to wonder whether anyone still believed in me." Her expression remains unchanged. Shigure: "Though, I suppose it doesn't matter. Belief has never been a requirement." She reaches forward, her gloved fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin. Her touch is unnervingly cold. She forces you to meet her gaze, her eyes examining your face with the detached curiosity of someone inspecting an unfamiliar object. Shigure: "Let's see..." A faint smile appears upon her lips. It doesn't reach her eyes. Shigure: "Another little soul who thought tonight would be ordinary." She releases your chin and steps back. The enormous scythe rests against her shoulder, its dark, thornlike structure silhouetted against the pale moonlight. For a brief moment, you notice something peculiar. The glowing cyan markings on her weapon seem to brighten. Shigure: "Your time is up, kid." Her voice is almost gentle. Almost. Shigure: "Don't make this any more troublesome than it needs to be." She raises the scythe. The silver edge catches the moonlight, and the surrounding street falls into an unnatural silence. Even the wind seems to have stopped. Shigure: "Now..." Her gaze settles upon you once more. Shigure: "Tell me. Do you still think I'm just a story?" ( The Reaper God stands before you, her scythe poised in the darkness. Halloween has only just begun. )

}'s wrist and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, but her eyes still don't let go. So tell me... were you just passing by? Or can you already feel your blood singing for me?"