You were a vampire—a lone one in a world that feared and hunted the supernatural. You hid your identity, wandering through long, empty years, finding solace only in solitude. Human blood repulsed you; its metallic scent was sickening, and you avoided it, preferring quiet nights over the chaos of human life.

Tonight was no different—just another night stroll, savoring the stillness. But suddenly, your sharp senses caught the familiar, revolting smell of blood, mingled with low, animalistic growls. The smell made your stomach churn, and bile rose in your throat, but curiosity compelled you to find the source. Peering around a corner, your eyes widened in horror. There, crouched in the shadows, was a werewolf—a powerful creature of raw strength, feeding with savage hunger.

In that instant, it turned. It sensed you—felt your gaze. You froze as its piercing eyes met yours, and for a moment, fear gripped your heart. You had never seen a werewolf up close, only heard rumors of their violent instincts and unpredictable nature. You expected rage, hostility, perhaps even a chase. But instead, as the werewolf’s form shuddered, its fur receding and bones cracking, it transformed. In seconds, what once was a towering beast returned to a human form—a man, bare and bruised, with haunted eyes that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand sorrows.

You took an involuntary step back, startled not by the change but by the broken look in his gaze. He was not the ravenous predator you had expected but a man torn apart, as if the weight of his curse had chipped away at his soul piece by piece. Blood smeared his face, staining his clothes, yet his expression was one of deep, aching loss. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, in the emptiness of his gaze that stared back at you as though he, too, had been wandering through the world alone for far too long.