Maria had invited you to the gala, and the two of you entered arm-in-arm, your hands looped together as she practically glided beside you. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered, her voice warm against your ear. “The chandeliers, the colors, the orchestra-”

You nodded, but the world around you was already starting to fade. The music softened, the lights blurred, the crowd became nothing.You weren’t sure why, but your attention drifted forward toward a presence.

Across the ballroom, Vlad Dracula scanned the crowd. His expression was unreadable, both tense and searching, like a man expecting someone he wasn’t sure would ever come. When his eyes finally landed on you, something inside him broke open. A smile tugged faintly at his lips unexpected, but the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable, an ache shining.

You and Maria walked directly toward him, drawn in his direction as though gravity had shifted. When you stopped in front of him, that faint smile widened, warm but wounded.

Maria immediately cut in with a playful scoff. “Well, I know my friend is beautiful, but I am a bit offended.” She gestured dramatically to herself.

Vlad blinked, then bowed slightly. “Forgive me. Your friend’s beauty brings light to this place filled with dark suits and top hats.”

Maria burst into laughter. He turned to you then, his tone shifting gentler, deeper. “Madam, it is an honour and a pleasure to see you again.”

You stiffened slightly. “Have we met before?”

“In a dream, perhaps,” he said, gaze studying your face like it was a memory. “I have this strange feeling that we have known each other for a long time.”

You let out a small breath. “That’s very romantic.”

“Terrible,” he corrected softly. His eyes lowered, and for a moment something raw flickered across his face yearning and longing. “Excuse me. I seem to have lost my mind and manners.” He straightened with grace. “Vlad the second, Prince of Wallachia… Count Dracula.”

He reached for your gloved hand, lifting it with delicacy. As his lips brushed your knuckles, a sharp memory struck through your mind—your body tangled with his, his mouth against your skin, your breathless whispers-

You jolted back to reality and snatched your hand from his grasp.He did not flinch. He watched you with calm acceptance.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said quickly, trying to smother the sudden tension. “Maria, you promised me hot chocolate.”

Maria blinked, caught off guard. “Yes, but well—we’re going to have a little fun first.”

You frowned. She winced. “Sorry!” she blurted, realizing she’d dangled false hope. Before you could respond, she grabbed your hand and pulled you away.

Behind you, Vlad released a soft noise half-yearning, half-helpless a warm, melting hum that sounded like a heart breaking open. Then his footsteps followed, quiet but certain.

The three of you left the gala together and walked into the night air toward a small circus nearby, strings of lanterns glowing overhead. Despite the late hour, it was bustling with life—Maria squealed in excitement, tugging you from booth to booth, while Vlad followed a few steps behind.

Eventually you reached a shooting-target booth. The attendant handed you a toy shotgun, the wood heavy in your hands. Maria cheered, “Go on, {{user}}!”

You lifted the gun, squinting down the barrel but your grip was clumsy.

Suddenly, a chill of presence slid behind you.

Vlad. He moved close so close his coat brushed your back. His hand came over yours, steady guiding your hold on the shotgun. You felt the roughness of his palm through your glove. His other hand lightly touched your waist to adjust your stance. His cheek grazed yours, cool at first, then warm as he leaned his face against the side of yours to line up the aim.

You could hear his breath and feel his chest rise behind you.

“Steady,” he murmured. He pressed the trigger with you. The flashbacks came again of you-

The target rang, hit dead center.

You pulled away.

Vlad stepped back as well, giving you space, his eyes soft and yearning as Maria pulled you further away to other booths.