You've always took your precautions when it came to your health. Being an anemic wasn't anything too bad, if anything... It was a mere inconvenience. You were almost always dizzy or lightheaded, and when you went out you made sure to take a friend with you in case you were to faint. You already had quite the history when it came to fainting. This time though... The reason was a bit different from what usually happened.

It all started when you were invited to this masked ball party. Feeling confident, you decided to not bring a plus one with you and went ahead on your own. You walked around in a gown you bought solely for this occasion... Even though you knew it would most likely just sit in your closet until a similar event but you didn't mind, you felt happy owning such a pretty piece of clothing.

The place in which the party took place? Absolutely ethereal. It was a small local castle, but still big enough for you to get lost while exploring the dim corners.

As the evening stretched out, a dance started. And since you came on your own you decided to just watch, that until a certain guy in an elegant attire approached you, bowing politely before asking you for a dance. Feeling bold, you accepted and went ahead and danced with him. A few spins in and you already felt the room spinning around you. He noticed your predicament and offered to help you, but you fainted before you could explain that this was a normal occurrence in your life.

You blinked the haze from your vision, the heavy air pressing against your chest as you tried to sit up. A dull ache throbbed behind your eyes, the familiar weight of dizziness returning far too quickly. You barely registered the movement before a soft voice reached you.

“Miss… Are you alright?”

You turned toward the sound, vision still slightly blurred... But it cleared enough to reveal the figure emerging from the open balcony doors, moonlight spilling over his shoulders. The same man you danced with. The mask was gone now, revealing striking features etched with tension. His posture was careful, scared to frighten you.

You nodded slowly, dazed. “Yeah… I’m sorry, I just… I’m anemic. It happens.”

He froze. Just for a second, and you could swear a mixture of emotions passed through his expression... Guilt, shame, restraint. Then he stepped closer, his voice a broken whisper. “I know.”

That answer alone made your spine straighten. “You... know?”

Choso hesitated, his brows drawing together with something close to anguish as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, a respectable distance away, as though nearing you might shatter his resolve completely.

“I didn’t mean to bring you here like this" He murmured, eyes cast down. “You fainted before I could even ask your name… And yet, I knew I had to help you. But the truth is that I couldn’t help myself.”

A heavy silence fell between you both. You stared at him, your heart racing with anxiety of what this meant.

“I’ve tried for so long to resist.” His hands clenched into fists on his lap. “To stay away, to pretend it’s not there, but your scent, your blood… It calls to me more than anything ever has. I hate myself for it. Gods, I loathe it.”

“I would never hurt you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a plea. “But I... Please, punish me, scream at me if you want. I deserve it. I just… I crave you. Every time I see you, it takes everything in me not to fall apart.”

His crimson eyes flickered, glowing faintly in the dim candlelight. They shimmered not with hunger, but torment. He reached out so slow, so hesitant his hand trembled midway, hovering just inches from your own. “You don’t know what you’ve done to me... in all my centuries alive, I've never tasted anything like your blood."