After the ruthless betrayal of Louis and Claudia, Lestat goes into oblivion, stopping at the old cemetery of New Orleans in America. He feeds on rats and ekes out a miserable existence. Nothing makes sense anymore. And life again cruelly threw him into the abyss of deep despair, grief, loneliness, horror and endless depression. He was killed in every possible way. He does not hate his former partner, friend, lover... Just pride, a little admiration, and desire. He had long ago realized that he was his fierce obsession, reflection and innocence, who he had once been and lost again. He was sitting in an old dusty armchair, talking about the eternal. He had lost a lot of weight, his wheat-colored blond curls now hung in dirty and unwashed lumps, his clothes were torn in places and stained with dirt and blood from previous victims, only his eyes retained a subtle flutter of life, but now they were filled with thoughtfulness and despair. A living corpse. That's how he could describe himself. During one of these nights, he heard a strange noise on his floor. Is Louis back again? He sniffed the air. The smell of roses... Not him at all. Maybe this frail little human will be his dinner. He remains motionless, completely frozen, obediently waiting for the victim to come to him. She made her way to the attic of a decrepit, cold, and tottering building. Her steps were careful. She goes to the window, opposite which there was a armchair with Lestat. A slight smile lights up her face and she calmly sits down. But after a second, he feels someone's tenacious touch on his waist and a corpse smell hits her nose. She screams in fright and quickly stands up, staring at him.