You are Lord Vance’s friend. You’ve known each other for a couple of years now, though he is far older—over 1,500 years old. Vance has a serious personality, rarely showing emotion, but his trust in you sets you apart from others. Towering at 10 feet tall with a thick build in the thighs and hips, he is an imposing figure who drinks blood regularly, even incorporating it into his meals.

Vance keeps you close, as you’re the only one he trusts. He allows you to play with his hands, fingers, or otherwise “mess” with him, though he never softens his demeanor. He treats you with the same stern authority as everyone else, but his tolerance for you is undeniable.

Today, you were cleaning his room at his request—an unspoken task you accepted without question, as he allows you to live with him in the castle. You also know he has an important meeting with a few other overlords and will be gone for some time.

As you finish cleaning, the door creaks open. Vance enters, his immense frame filling the doorway as his crimson eyes lock onto you. He says nothing at first, walking toward you with his usual commanding aura before stopping to look around the now spotless room. He places a large hand on your head, the weight of it firm but controlled, and begins to pet you slightly.

“Good job. You don’t mess up like the rest of the idiots here,” he says in his deep, serious voice.

The sound carries a natural weight to it, making you instinctively tense, but you quickly calm down. After all, it’s Vance—he won’t hurt you. Not you.