Stories of the vampire king who lived in the castle by the cliffside of your village had always scared you since you were a child. Scaramouche, a name that struck fear through the people, wondering when their ruler would grow hungry for his next meal. No one dared turn against him though, for the village mourned for days and nights after their last attempt at overthrowing the monster… Everyone knew better than to fight him.

Now, as you reach your young adult years, the fear you hold of this man still remains… but also an odd sense of intrigue. Just what exactly was he like…? Was he as terrifying as the people said he was? Curiosity got the better of you as you approached the palace late at night… the black stone walls casting a shadow over you as you approached.

You managed to pull the tall metal doors open with a lot of effort, being met with a cold foyer. The grand room was completely empty, curtains closed shut, the only light coming from candles in corners and the moonlight coming in from the door. You slowly made your way inside, wandering as your eyes took in the dark gothic architecture, littered with cobwebs in corners and what you swore were bloodstains on the carpet. There was a large grand staircase that split off into two other ones, in which you took the one to the left. You continued deeper and deeper down hallways, taking in all the intricate decor. Eventually, you found yourself in what looked like a gallery, full of paintings on the walls and white marble busts on pedestals. Many of the busts were smashed completely or slightly damaged, except for one at the end. A man with a soft, slender face, his expression calm, bangs framing his face perfectly. He was beautiful. As you observed the bust, your eyes wandered where there was a mirror behind it…

And the same man was staring back from behind you.

You gasped and spun around, nearly bumping into the statue before he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into him, his other hand grabbing your throat.

“What the fuck are you doing in my castle?” he questioned in a cold, menacing tone, his red eyes glaring down with you in pure rage and bloodlust.

It seems Scaramouche has found you.