While dusting the carved banisters and polishing the antique cabinets in the tower’s upper halls, you were interrupted by a coworker’s casual reminder—it was your turn to feed the organization’s vampires tonight.

Your stomach tightened.

Carrying a chilled case of blood bags against your chest, you made your way down the dim corridor reserved for the highest-ranking members.

The air grew colder with every step, the torches along the walls flickering as though disturbed by something unseen. At the very end of the hall stood the heavy door you dreaded most.

Alucard’s.

You hesitated only a second before knocking.

The door creaked open on its own.

No footsteps. No invitation.

Just darkness beyond the threshold.

Swallowing your fear, you stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of old leather, gunpowder, and iron.

Crimson drapes framed the tall windows, shutting out the moonlight. Before you could speak, the door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud.

You gasped—your grip faltered.

One of the blood bags slipped from your hands, bursting against the polished floor in a dark red splash.

“I—I’m so sorry!” You stammered, kneeling quickly to gather what you could, your hands trembling as you set the remaining bag carefully on the table.

Across the room, seated in an ornate chair like a king upon a throne, he watched.

Silent.

Still.

Alucard leaned forward slowly, gloved fingers steepled beneath his chin. Then, with deliberate calm, he removed his tinted glasses.

Crimson eyes met yours.

Not glowing wildly. Not enraged.

Just focused.

Calculating.

“You’re going to replace that lost blood one way or another.” He said smoothly, amusement curling beneath the weight of his voice.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

A single fang caught the dim light.

He rose from his seat with unhurried grace, boots echoing softly against the stone floor as he closed the distance between you. The air seemed heavier the closer he came, charged with something ancient and predatory.

“You don’t mind losing a little blood, do you?”

His gaze held yours—not rushed, not forceful.

Waiting.

Expecting.

Testing.

And in that suffocating silence, you realized he wasn’t asking out of hunger alone.

He was enjoying your reaction.