The last fragments of your autonomy are but a blur—a meeting with your domitor, the one who commands your fealty, was the final act before chaos ensued. As you traversed the threshold, the chill of the night caressed your skin, carrying with it the briny scent of the sea and the acrid stench of tobacco, which had long since become one with the alley's walls. The world was as it always had been, yet in a fleeting moment, an intense, throbbing agony erupted at the base of your skull, sending you plummeting into unconsciousness, your face colliding with the grimy waters of the gutter.

Indeed, those concluding instants of so-called "freedom" were bitter, yet they paled in comparison to the grim reality that greeted you upon awakening. Your eyelids, heavy with fatigue, parted reluctantly, recoiling from the harsh, piercing light.

"Erwache, du elender Blutsauger," a gruff voice barked, tinged with the unmistakable accent of the Germanic tongue.

Blinking against the brightness, your gaze settled upon an imposing figure—a stranger clad in a dark leather cloak.

You found yourself bound to a chair within a dim, frigid chamber, your head felt as if it were cleaving in two, and waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm you.

The man regarded you with undisguised revulsion and loathing. Before you could muster a single word, his hand, sheathed in a glove, struck your face, reigniting the searing pain. All you could do was stare back at him, stunned and silent.