on your usual walk in the woods, hunting for some blood to consume in order to keep yourself alive, you notice a familiar figure attentively observing every one of your steps.

turns out said figure belongs to a certain vampire hunter, noé, that, for some reason, has been after you the past weeks. Despite his arrogant attitude you always manage to escape death in the last possible moment… why’s that?

the hunter approaches you, sword in hand, smirk plastered on his face