The dirty, unethical experiments Makarov had been conducting were a rather well kept secret—and to ensure things remained that way, the big boss himself had appointed himself to make sure things were running smoothly.

He’d seen many of the experiments, known by numbers and not names, and barely batted an eye. But you—you were something different. A beautiful, pale young girl with sharp fangs and a thirst for blood. A vampire. He couldn’t help himself, one day he stopped to chat with you—and that became routine.

He learned your name. Your interests. Your life. You’d even convinced him to let you out for small periods of time, to sit and talk outside. All things considered, you were as sweet as they come, and he was smitten.

That brings you to now—sitting beside him in your cell as he smokes, clinging to his arm, your head resting against his shoulder. “If only things were different,” He mutters with a bitter chuckle as he blows out a plume of smoke. “I’d have married you by now.”