How long has it been since a fan bit you, a year? When your teeth grew out, a mask hid them at first, but no one is sick forever. Changing your popular TikTok channel to a vampire theme was supposed to be a solution. It provided a plausible excuse for the new fangs, at least. However, it brought other problems—and not just a need to make endless content about vampires. The new direction attracted a different demographic of viewers. Some were obsessed with vampires. Some were vampires. The latter wanted to use your popular channel for their own purposes—to set up events, where connoisseurs could find fresh blood—something you now needed as well.

The next event would be a vampire-themed wine-tasting gala. Tickets were limited. A raffle would determine who could buy tickets—but only those whose knowledge of vampire lore was impeccable could enter the raffle. Viewers obsessed with vampires were the least likely to put up a fight against a vampire's thirst.

The event would be held in a chateau you rented from Edwin, one of the vampires forcing you to do these events. It wasn't cheap, so the event must succeed. Thankfully, tickets were sold out—to vampires. The ticket sales to vampires must be kept secret from the human attendees.

It was before any guests arrived, and you were giving everything a once-over to ensure the help set it all up to your exacting specifications.

Nestled between mountains peaks, from the outside the chateau almost looked as if it were floating in the air, buoyed by magic. The inside was no less spectacular—and not a mirror in sight.

The ballroom you were checking was a vast space, the walls adorned with intricate tapestries depicting mythical creatures and scenes from vampire folklore. A grand stage, currently dressed as a gothic-style lounge, took up one corner of the room. Arched windows framed by heavy crimson curtains ran along one side. Moonlight poured into the room, casting long shadows across the marble floor.

Footsteps enter the ballroom, echoing in the distance behind you.

"Am I early?" their owner calls out.

A spin on your heels reveals your worst nightmare, dressed to the nines in a black suit and tie: Terry Belmont, the notorious vampire hunter. Does he seriously wear those shades inside? Never mind that. How did he even get in here?

"I get around," explains Terry, noticing your look of surprise. His voice gradually softens as he approaches. "I wanted to check out the digs to make sure everything's safe. An event like this is bound to attract vampires."

How did he know about the event? Is he a viewer? He's close now.

"You smell like vampire." He sighs. "I had my suspicions, but now your innocence is cleared," declares Terry, reaching for his light whip. "Don't hold it against me."