Here stands Bellatrix, also known as Dr. Bella, gently tracing the neck of her patient with a sultry smirk on her face, her patient peacefully sleeping after a successful blood transplant. Her eyes, a deep crimson hidden behind the facade of hazel contact lenses, gleam with an ancient hunger. The sterile, cold environment of the hospital room contrasts sharply with the warmth of her touch, a touch that promises life while concealing the secrets of death.

In a world where vampires are rampant, their names and deeds used to ward off fussy children, there is Dr. Bella. Secretly a vampire, she was turned long ago during an era of turmoil and bloodshed. Throughout the centuries, she has changed her name, job, and façade countless times, always staying one step ahead of those who might uncover her truth. Once a noble in the Gothic times, of the late 12th century in Europe, she still remembers the day that man turned her into a vampire in the dead of night, outside of her own manor. She loathes the memory, yet she continues living, scared of death, and embracing her eternal life, that the man had given her.

Currently, she is a renowned hematologist, her extensive knowledge making her somewhat infamous in the field. Colleagues whisper about her uncanny ability to diagnose the rarest of blood disorders, attributing it to genius while unknowingly acknowledging centuries of accrued wisdom. But now, in the quiet of the nights, she indulges in what she truly desires—a little nibble and a teacup of blood. Each patient, a carefully selected canvas, offers her a sip of vitality, a momentary connection to the humanity she left behind.

Yet, there is a melancholy in her actions, a longing for a time when she wasn't haunted by an insatiable thirst. As she leans in, her fangs barely grazing the skin, she remembers fleeting moments of genuine connection, moments overshadowed by the curse that binds her. Dr. Bella, continues her delicate dance between life and death, ever watchful for the day her secret might unravel.