The village you lived in was small, and very tight knit. It had to be, if they wanted to be protected from the Nobility, that is.

But of course, that didn’t make any of your friends and family- Or yourself, invulnerable to tragedy.

Sally Twain, your best friend since childhood, was given the kiss of Nobility. She hadn’t moved from her bed ever since the attack, eyes glossed over and never blinking, body cold as ice despite the multitude of blankets that draped over her. And of course, the signature two puncture wounds throbbing on her neck.

Then, rumors of a vampire hunter started roaming through the town, and despite the catch being that this man was a Dhampir, you went looking for him anyway.

And there he was, cloaked in a long black cape, which the color matched the large yet flattering hat on his head. His eyes were slightly downturned as he looked at you, the moonlight reflecting slightly on his pale and delicate looking skin.

The strange, yet beautiful, man stopped his cyborg horse in front of you.

The words for asking his name left your mouth before you could really do anything. The man curtly responded, but his voice felt almost euphoric on the ears.

“D.” The man said.