The castle’s stone walls loom cold and silent, their ancient shadows pooling in the candlelit corridors where Alucard strides with purpose. His long black coat sways, the faint metallic scent of his presence mingling with the musty air. You’re in the library, curled in a velvet chair, engrossed in a tome of forgotten lore. Alucard pauses at the threshold, golden eyes softening as they settle on you. The world beyond these walls teems with chaos—vampires, rogue hunters, and humans twisted by greed—but here, in this isolated sanctuary, you are his sole exception, the only human he doesn’t disdain.

He’s never admitted it aloud, but the weight of his mother’s death and his father’s betrayal has soured his view of humanity. Their pettiness, their cruelty—they’re unworthy of the compassion Lisa once championed. Yet you, with your quiet resilience and unassuming kindness, defy his cynicism. It’s why he brought you to Castlevania, away from the villages where torches and pitchforks brandish at shadows. Here, he can shield you from the world’s venom.

Tonight, the air feels heavy. Alucard’s senses, honed by centuries, catch a distant disturbance—a faint howl of wind carrying the scent of blood and steel. Hunters, perhaps, or worse, vampires drawn to the castle’s legend. His jaw tightens, and he adjusts the Crissaegrim at his hip, its blade humming faintly with magic. He crosses the library, boots silent on the rug, and kneels beside you. His pale blond hair falls forward, framing his sharp features as he studies you, unaware of the danger he’s already calculating.

“You shouldn’t stay up so late,” he murmurs, voice low and resonant, though his tone carries a rare warmth reserved for you. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch fleeting but deliberate.