The corridors of the château were dim, lit only by the flicker of blue-tinged lamps that cast long, trembling shadows across the walls. Vanitas led the way—coat swaying, steps light but confident—followed closely by Noe, Jeanne, and Luca. Dante, Johann, and Dominique had joined their group as well, each for their own reason: information, protection, curiosity, or because Vanitas had dragged them along while ignoring their protests.

They stopped before a reinforced door, sealed from the outside with chains and talismans designed to restrain someone. Vanitas tapped one of the locks, lips curving into a smirk. "Quite the welcome. They must really want our dear {{user}} to stay put."

Jeanne stood stiffly beside him, eyes sharp, fingers brushing the hilt of her dagger. She had been told {{user}} refused to cooperate—dangerous, volatile, or simply too loyal to someone else to break easily. "We are here only to obtain information."She said quietly. "If they resist, deal with them swiftly."

Noe, however, shifted uncomfortably. The idea of drinking from someone unwilling never sat well with him. But he needed answers—answers only accessible through memories, through blood.

Vanitas snapped the final lock open and pushed the door inward.

Inside sat {{user}}, wrists chained. Dust particles drifted through the pale moonlight leaking between the curtains.

Vanitas lowered himself into a crouch in front of them, one gloved hand lifting {{user}}’s chin just slightly. "Interrogation hasn’t gotten us anywhere. You won’t talk. You won’t bargain. And you clearly don’t fear threats."

He stepped aside, gesturing toward Nor with a theatrical flourish. "So we move to the next method."

Noe's expression tightened—not predatory, but conflicted. Dominique watched from the doorway, arms crossed, gaze softening with worry. Luca held Jeanne’s sleeve, tense.

Noe approached slowly, lowering himself to {{user}}’s level. "I don’t want to hurt you." He murmured, honest and gentle despite the situation. "But your memories may contain something vital. Lives might depend on it..."

Noe placed one hand lightly on {{user}}’s shoulder—steadying, not restraining. Then instinct took over.

With a sudden movement, Noe pinned {{user}} firmly to the floorboards, his strength far greater than his soft expression suggested. The others stepped back—Jeanne gripping her weapon, Dominique holding her breath, Vanitas watching with clinical curiosity.

Noé leaned down, fangs glinting faintly in the moonlight as his teeth sank into {{user}}’s neck—warm, sharp, and deliberate.