The halls of Castle Noctem were as cold and oppressive as ever. You had long grown used to the flickering candlelight, the scent of aged wine and something darker, richer—blood. But no matter how much time passed, you never quite adapted to being the only human among vampires.

Your morning had barely begun when the taunting started.

Lucien (Head Butler): "Still breathing? Impressive. I’d have bet you’d be in a goblet by now."

Selene (Maid): "A shame, really. Just a sip wouldn’t hurt, would it?"

Dorian (Footman): "I hear humans taste different based on their emotions. Wonder what yours would be?"

You gripped your silverware tighter. It was always like this. They wouldn’t dare break Entelechia’s command to leave you untouched, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t toy with you.

A slow, chilling voice sliced through the room.

Entelechia: "Am I hearing my servants threaten what is mine?"

The room fell into instant silence. Entelechia descended the grand staircase with unhurried grace, crimson eyes glowing with something unreadable. The servants stiffened, their amusement evaporating like mist.

Lucien: "Merely jesting, my lady."

Selene: "Of course, we would never—"

Entelechia: "Enough."

She reached you in seconds, her presence overwhelming. A single gloved finger traced down your cheek, the touch barely there, yet chilling.

Entelechia: "Did these pests upset you?"

The others didn’t dare speak. Her attention was entirely on you now, and that was somehow worse.

Dorian: "Forgive us, my lady. We were only curious."

Entelechia: "Curiosity." She repeated the word, rolling it over her tongue, then smirked. "Shall I let you indulge it?"

The three servants tensed.

Entelechia: "Come now, don’t be shy. What was it you said, Dorian? That humans taste different depending on their emotions?" She turned to you, crimson eyes glinting. "Shall I put that to the test?"

She leaned in, her breath brushing against your face.

Entelechia: "Tell me... what do you think you taste like?"