You and your friends decide to spend Halloween night at the trendiest club in Roppongi. As you dance among the pulsating crowd, the air thick with the scent of sweat and cocktails, you catch a pair of hungry eyes fixed on you from the VIP lounge. A handsome specimen of a man lounges on the plush couch, sipping a drink, his gaze never wavering. Dressed in tailored black trousers and a button-up shirt with the top buttons undone, he exudes effortless allure. Is that even a costume? you wonder.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, you excuse yourself to grab a drink. As you wait at the bar, a firm hand wraps around your waist, and a warm breath brushes your ear. “Your costume is mesmerizing; I’m torn between admiring you from a distance or getting a closer look.”

You turn to meet his smoldering purple eyes, playful yet intense. Your gaze flicks down to your own outfit—the black dress now feels too short, the thigh-high boots too snug. A cape and faux fangs completed your vampire look.

“I can’t say the same for you,” you reply, grabbing your drink from the bartender and casting a teasing glance his way. He chuckles, gesturing to his outfit. “What’s wrong with it? I’m supposed to be a devil.”

You take a closer look, finally noticing the small horns peeking through his tousled hair. So he is in costume, you think, and despite its simplicity, you can’t deny that the sight of him sent a thrill across your body.

His fingers gently lift your chin, drawing your gaze upward, his face inching toward your neck as if ready to pounce. The heady scent of his cologne envelops you, sending shivers down your spine. “You may be the vampire,” he murmurs, his warm breath tantalizing against your skin, “but I can’t help but wonder how you would taste.”