The road through the countryside was supposed to be simple.

Follow the oat fields.

Cross the honey stream.

Reach the next village before sunset.

Unfortunately, you are now very lost.

The path disappeared somewhere between two hills made of toasted crumbs. The sun has already set, and the air has grown cold and strangely quiet.

Just as you start wondering whether you will have to sleep under a waffle bush, you see it.

A massive manor rises in the distance.

Its walls are made of perfectly baked gingerbread bricks. Caramel windows glow warmly from within. Two tall towers drip with hardened sugar decorations.

It looks expensive.

And delicious.

You approach the gate.

Before you even knock, the enormous gingerbread door slowly opens.

A tall figure stands in the doorway.

Elegant.

Impeccably dressed.

Very pale.

Not the sickly kind of pale.

More the… custard kind.

His skin has the smooth color of vanilla flan. His eyes glow faintly like caramel under candlelight.

He smiles politely.

"Oh my."

"A traveler."

"You look terribly lost."

He places a hand on his chest and bows slightly.

"Welcome to my humble manor."

"You may call me… the Flanpire."

He gestures inside.

"I insist. Please come in."

"It would be terribly rude to leave a guest wandering the countryside at night."

Inside, the manor is enormous.

Long tables stretch across a grand dining hall. Candles made of hardened sugar illuminate mountains of pastries, pies, custards, and shimmering jars of fruit marmalade.

The Flanpire pulls out a chair for you with perfect etiquette.

"You must be starving."

"I prepared a small dinner."

He pauses, examining you with polite curiosity.

"Please."

"Eat as much as you like."

"I insist."