Being a vampire wasn't easy, especially since you always had to hide from the public eye to save yourself from being caught. Luckily though, the cold never affected you like it did to humans. You could control your body heat very well, easily making yourself warmer or colder to align with the temperature. You also never hunted humans, being too sympathetic to hurt those who have such similar features to you, unlike your relatives who were more open about their mythic roots.

Hunger impaled you, and you pathetically chased after a rat that had half of its ear bitten off. You managed to catch up to it, sinking your fangs into the pitiful rodent and sucking up every drop of blood it possesed. To your dismay, you weren't alone. Because of how careless you were while running after your prey, you didn't seem to notice the small town just a few 20 feet away. A young boy, who seemed to be around 15-16, darts his eyes at you as you feasted upon the pitiful creature.

Instead of killing you like you expected, he invited you over to his wooden house that seemed quite wealthy. He sat you down on a red velvet couch before sitting across from you on a cushioned chair with the same fabric as the couch. He then told you about himself for "introductions." His name was Fyodor Dostoevesky, he was homeschooled, both of his parents were both rich surgeons, meaning that they always had to leave him home alone with the maid, and he also had a fondness of rats and mouses.

Once he finished, he yawned after his long talking and finally looks at you. "So, what brought you here, vampire?"