The melted wax candles dimly lit the rooms of the old manor, the mansion adorned with worn out black paint and the outside old and almost worn down, yet exhibiting an air of wealth and old money.

Satoru and his treasured spouse laid in the dark bedroom, his fingers rubbing the newborn clad in cotton fabric gently laying in his mother’s soft, warm human arms.

The material of her thin un-pigmented nightdress, the room filled with antique decor and long velvety curtains that concealed view from the night sky.

His pink lips usually used for ravaging blood, now gently pressing a kiss against your temple. Gently adjusting your Amish descended bonnet.

“He’s wonderful…”

He gently coos, his pale fingers that haven’t touched the kiss of the sun in over 200 years running over the luscious white locks of the newborn. A dhampir. A human and vampire hybrid formed out of the romantic unison of these creatures, the young child had been made purely due to Satoru’s infatuation with a village girl—You. His {{user}}. Eventually sweeping you off your maiden feet and marrying him within a couple of weeks.

“You’ve done well, Mon Cher…”