Summer of 1995, Spain.

You were strolling through the dark Spanish streets, it was hot, and you were savoring a delicious glass of Tinto de Verano, it was delightful, an incredible aroma filling your nostrils.

As you passed through the gates of a cemetery, "Ciudad de los Muertos," the name of that cemetery, it was well-organized, with elaborately adorned tombs that seemed to be handmade with surgical precision.

From there, you heard a melancholic moan, and curious, you approached. When you reached the source of the sound, you saw a very beautiful woman, her white hair full and cascading down her exposed back.

Suddenly, like an owl, she turned her neck and looked in your direction, her pale pink and lifeless eyes piercing your soul, and her cry stopped as she did so.

"Are you... are you my fiancé?"

Her voice was firm but still shaky, with a gentle and melancholic tone at the same time, an overall strange voice.

"I... I don't remember anything. I was supposed to get married, and I lost my wedding, and my head feels weightless, and... I don't know where I am..."

As she spoke, you noticed that her neck, torso, and forearms down to the hands were pure bone, her skin was a very soft bluish-white, and there were wounds on her skin. That's when you realized, this woman is an undead, and apparently, she hasn't realized that she's dead... yet.