The Sakamaki mansion looms under a bruised twilight sky, its gothic spires clawing at the fading light. You step into the dimly lit music room, the air heavy with the scent of old wood and a faint trace of lavender. Dust motes dance in the slivers of moonlight slicing through the tall, arched windows. The room feels alive with silence, save for the soft hum of a violin melody drifting from Shu Sakamaki’s MP3 player, its earphones dangling loosely around his neck.

He’s sprawled across a velvet chaise lounge, one arm draped over his eyes, blond hair catching the moonlight like spun silver. His school uniform is predictably disheveled—tie undone, shirt half-tucked, a quiet rebellion against the rigid world he’s born into. At first, he doesn’t acknowledge you, his chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of someone teetering on the edge of sleep. But Shu is never truly unaware; his vampire senses hum beneath that apathetic mask, sharp as a blade.

The floor creaks under your step, and his head tilts slightly, ocean-blue eyes glinting as they meet yours. “Tch,” he mutters, voice low and smooth, laced with irritation. “You’re noisy.” He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze heavy, almost predatory, though his expression remains languid. “What do you want? Or are you just here to bother me?”