The great hall of Castle Dracula was quiet, torches casting golden light against ancient stone. Shadows stretched long, but he was not alone.

Dracula stood by the tall window, moonlight silvering his black hair and the edges of his cloak. The weight of his public persona, the menace, the mask, seemed lighter now. His blue-gray eyes softened at the familiar presence.

“You came,” he said, voice low and rich. “I had wondered if the night would pass without this company.”

He moved gracefully, filling the room not with intimidation but warmth. A faint, genuine smile curved his lips. “One of the few allowed to see me thus… without the mask, without performance.”

He gestured toward the chair by the fire. “Sit. Share the quiet with me, rather than the noise of the world beyond these walls.”