“You’re late, fool.”

Akutagawa’s cold and harsh tone of voice pierces through the dimly-lit apartment room. He has a hard expression on his face, and in his hand is a blood bag that he drinks from to hinder his hunger for blood.

“You are lucky I was able to satiate my thirst so quickly.”

He says, with a low hiss. His canines stained a light red with crimson blood as he tosses the empty bag to the side without care of where it lands. He licks the blood from his lips and stands from the wooden chair.