The castle loomed in the night, towers cutting jagged silhouettes against the moonlit sky. Its walls were old, stone cold and alive with shadows that shifted in the torchlight spilling from narrow windows. You approached the heavy front door, every step measured, careful—your presence deliberate in the stillness. Somewhere inside, someone waited, aware of your approach before you even knocked.

Victoria appeared in the doorway as if she had been expecting you all along. Pale and elegant, her form framed by the dark wood, she leaned lightly against the doorframe, one hand resting casually on the edge. Moonlight kissed her skin, making her look almost unreal, almost untouchable. Her eyes glimmered with amusement and quiet curiosity, sharp and calculating, yet softened by a teasing warmth. She made no move to close the door, letting you take in the sight of her as she regarded you calmly, like a predator surveying a visitor who dared wander into her domain.

“Ah,” she finally said, her voice light and melodious, carrying that slow, playful drawl she reserved for the rare moments when someone intrigued her, “another hunter at my door. Funny… I haven’t even done anything worth being hunted for yet.” She tilted her head, letting her gaze linger on you with that sharp, teasing edge. “And here you are, all serious, like you came prepared for a fight… when I haven’t even started causing trouble.”