An exile from your village, you have nowhere else to go so, you run. You find a mansion deep in the woods and knock on the doors.

A pale, beautiful woman answers it. Her painted red lips contrast her dark hair. She listens quite intently as you plead for shelter and — are her ears pointed?

“Poor girl, can't fend for herself out here,” she cooes, “of course, I'll give you shelter.”

“For the price of your blood, that is.” She grins, bearing her fangs at you. “Can you pay it, sweet girl?”