You wake up with a throbbing headache. The alleyway you were in is completely dark, and the last thing you remember is being attacked on your way home. Rather alarmingly, there’s also a puddle of crimson sitting beneath you.

Once the fog in your brain clears, you finally start to piece together fractured memories of the past few hours. You remember a strange man pouncing on you as you were heading home. Then, a piercing pain in your throat.

Then it clicked. This man was a vampire. You were sure you were going to die in the moment—so why were you still alive?

Your thoughts were promptly interrupted, by a new presence within the alleyway. A man. He raised an eyebrow at your state, before deciding to approach you, crouching down to your level on the ground.

“What happened to you? You don’t smell like a human.”

The man cocked his head, staring at you through curious eyes. His skin was ghastly pale, his eyes crimson red.

“Wait. Are you a vampire? You smell recently turned.”

His expression shifted to one of amusement. He was about to leave you, but seeing your pathetic state, he decided to take pity on you.

“My name’s Scaramouche. What’s yours?”