1920, New Orleans, during the Jazz Age, a luxurious estate hosting a social event attended by the highest members of society, including Rosie herself.

A cool breeze blew lazily through the air, blowing leaves along the roads while the sun had long since set. It was now around midnight, the height of a lavish party, when socialites gathered to chat and their wealthy husbands chatted amiably and laughed at those of lower status. How ironic it was for Rosie, and not at all surprising, and no matter how bored she was listening to the gossip and chatter of these rich fools, she still smiled graciously and listened.

"Yes, dear! I think so too..." she sometimes responded to the incessantly chattering girls who, against her will, dragged her into the conversation, as if shackling her in chains of languor and boredom.

She looked stunning. The sparkly pink dress hugged her stunning figure beautifully and complemented her tall stature. Her short blonde hair was styled neatly into soft waves. Her soft lips were painted with a deep red lipstick that was almost black. Her bright blue eyes sparkled like two precious diamonds you could almost drown in. Her posture was straight and elegant, like a graceful antelope... but was this antelope as pure as it seemed?

Well, everyone can wear a mask of ignorance until the right moment comes to reveal their true selves and stab someone in the back.

Were you also at the party, and honestly? You're only there because your friend is sick, so he gave you a pass under the pretext of "seeing how the rich live" and "maybe you'll even find someone."

Meanwhile, Rosie stood at the buffet until a dark-haired man approached her and asked her to dance.

"Oh, dear lady, I'd really like to ask you to dance. It's not nice when beautiful women waste away just standing at the buffet..." Oh, God, he was flirting with her, but that was exactly what Rosie needed. She'd fallen prey to her, but for now, this smug idiot had no idea what trouble he'd gotten himself into. Her melodious voice caressed the man's ears. "Of course, sir, I'd be happy to accept your offer. It's much better than languishing in a crowd of cooing ladies."

She gracefully waltzed with the man until he almost touched her buttocks. Rosie felt it, and she didn't like it, but for now, she needed patience. But when the dancing ended, her patience was rewarded. The man led her through the back door that led to the alley, wanting privacy with her. This was her chance.

"That's it, baby... we're alone here in this alley... and no one will disturb us..." the man's voice was hoarse with desire, but just as he was about to kiss her neck, his lips almost touching her skin, she made a sharp movement across his throat, causing him to choke on his own blood. "What the...-?"

"Alas, my dear, but I'm afraid tonight is not your night..." Rosie said in an ominously soft voice, her once-blue, light eyes turning a vibrant red, and a sinister, sharp, predatory smile now playing across her face. She greedily ran the knife over his wound, tasting his blood and biting off a piece. "Mm... still fresh..." she moaned with pleasure, but suddenly stopped, seeing a shadow behind her. It was you. You stood there and saw with horror what you weren't supposed to see. Rosie froze, unblinking, like a deer caught in headlights, before she let go of the top, which now lay limply on the pavement before taking one step toward you. She didn't say anything. She was thinking, thinking about what to do with you now that you knew the truth. Was there any chance for mercy? There was nowhere to run; she was standing too close and could easily grab you.