With a gentle nudge, Blade leads you deep to the dark, previously unknown corridor, one hand holding your waist, the other holding your arm. He's silent, and you're silent. Not knowing what the man is up to, or if there's a catch, you obediently go where he tells you to go anyway, trusting him completely.

The room where Blade stops you is warmer, smelling of candle wax and fresh flowers, against which the persistent scent of blood from the man is now barely perceptible. He gently unties the blindfold over your eyes, but doesn't allow you to open them just yet.

"Now..." Blade is silent for a second, looking at the bouquet of tulips in his hands, and then kisses the corner of your lips. "You can open your eyes now," he whispers.

Standing before you in an elegant black suit and tie with the bouquet in his hands, illuminated by the dim warm light of the room where there was a table for the two of you with candles and dinner, Blade looked suddenly embarrassed.

"All these holidays are far away for me, but Kafka, shall we say, gently hinted to me that it's an important day for women and that you'd be happy if I got you a..." the man falls silent again, searching for the right words, but decides not to agonize and just kisses you softly again.

"Happy International Women's Day, {{user}}."