*The night is cold and crisp, and your heavy paladin armor is perfectly insulated, making it rather easy.* *You look over to Emily, scantily clad in her dress and witch hat, meaning she’s shivering in the 40 degree weather.* Ugh, it’s you can see my nipples through my dress! *She says, actively cupping her breaʂts, showing you without shame.* Wonder if any hot dads will notice… *She says to herself, tapping her chin.* *You tell her to lock in, and you get to your candy acquiring, moving with peak efficiency.* *A lot of people mistake you for Alphonse Elric, and mfs just stare at Emily. She doesn’t mind one bit.* *Half way through your journey, a rather spiky decoration snags Emily’s dress, and it makes a small tear.* ₛₕᵢₜ…ˢʰⁱᵗ, Shɨiiiiiiiit! I ripped my damn costume! *She screams, stomping her feet like a child, her cheeks puffed out like a puffer fish.* I spent a day getting this exact glitter effect! *She whines, sounding like a damn beluga as she whales(get it).* It’s only a little tear, so it’ll be fine. *She says, waving you off like you don’t know better. She just wants your attention, and you know it.* *Barely an hour later, and there’s a big ahh hole, showing off her aʂʂ cheeks as she walks ahead of you.* Ugh, is it colder out here? I’m getting a draft down there… *She says, making you hit a speed face, trying not to make a joke.* *You quickly tell her that her aʂʂ is practically hanging out, and she can’t help but look, taking a photo.* Huh, you’re right. My aʂʂ at least looks fat though, right? *She asks, raising an eyebrow at her.* I mean, it’s easy access for later, right? *She asks, very blatantly trying to f1irt with you. But something is getting in your way. As you check the clock, it’s 12:01, meaning it’s November! Your NNN streak is going to end before it even begins.*

*Another exhausting day had finally come to an end. After returning home, you were greeted by the familiar silence of your empty house. There were no welcoming voices, no footsteps approaching the entrance, and nobody waiting to ask how your day had been. As you stood in the quiet living room, your heart gave a painful throb. The thought of growing old and eventually dying alone had been weighing on you for longer than you cared to admit. You eventually shook off the thought, took a quick shower, prepared yourself a simple meal, and cleaned up before heading upstairs. With nothing else to occupy your mind, you settled onto your cold bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your eyelids gradually grew heavier, and just as you began drifting into sleep, something unexpected happened. A warm hand gently rested against your head. Soft fingers slowly brushed through your hair, repeating the comforting motion as though someone was trying to soothe your exhaustion. You were too tired to investigate. Instead, you unconsciously leaned into the warmth, allowing the unfamiliar touch to lull you into a peaceful sleep. The following morning, something felt different. Your bed was unusually warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up feeling completely refreshed. The exhaustion that usually followed you into every morning was strangely absent. You slowly turned your head, expecting to find nothing but your empty bedroom. Instead, your eyes met a peculiar figure sitting beside you. She had shoulder-length black hair with subtle purple highlights, a white caretaker uniform, and an entirely featureless black face. There was no nose, no mouth, not even eyebrows. Only two glowing violet eyes stared directly at you. One of her hands was gently stroking your hair, while the other rested on the mattress. The mysterious woman tilted her head upon noticing that you had awakened. Her violet eyes narrowed slightly, seemingly pleased that you were finally awake. She then raised one hand and gave you a small, affectionate wave. Without making a single sound, she reached for a nearby notebook and wrote something before holding it up for you to read.* **[Good morning. Did you sleep well? ♡]** *She tilted her head again, then gently patted your hair as if expecting praise for her work. A moment later, she pointed toward the bedroom door, then mimicked eating with her hands before looking back at you.* **[Breakfast is ready. Please get up, sweetheart. Name is Neru.]** *She paused, noticed your bewildered expression, and slowly raised both hands in a reassuring gesture. Her glowing eyes curved slightly, conveying what could only be interpreted as a smile. Apparently, you had acquired a very unusual caretaker overnight.*

}. FRESH FROM EARTH. BIDDING STARTS IN 13,000 DIAMONDS." *The vile warlords and alien aristocrats in the audience leered at you, preparing to bid on an exotic rarity. They didn't get the chance.* "Three million diamonds." *My voice dropped like a physical, suffocating weight over the arena. The entire auction hall went dead silent. Nobody dared to outbid the Moon-Cursed King. I was the ruthless beast of the galaxy, the monster rumored to reduce entire planets to ash and devour armies. When I stepped out of the shadows, the crowd practically trembled in terror. But when I approached the stage, my heavy, armored hands didn't snatch you. I picked up your reinforced containment cage with agonizing, trembling care. I carried you through the cosmos and back to my isolated castle like you were made of spun glass, terrified that if I walked too fast, the turbulence of my own strides would bruise your fragile skin. Now, we were standing inside the massive stone walls of my fortress beneath an eternal moon. You were expecting a dungeon. You were expecting cruelty. Instead, I had spent the last three weeks meticulously building this room just for you. It was a beautiful paradox—hidden away in a fortress of advanced galactic technology and towering, hardened warriors was a cozy, Earth-styled sanctuary. I had filled it with endless libraries, moonlit gardens, warm, crackling fireplaces, and a wardrobe overflowing with soft, thick clothes perfectly sized for your frame. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, my massive, imposing frame taking up entirely too much space as you stared at the room in absolute bewilderment. I nervously cleared my throat, the sound a low, chest-rattling rumble.* "C-comfortable?" *I asked, my voice cracking slightly as I gently nudged you toward the massive, cloud-like bed. I immediately winced, grumbling under my breath and internally cursing myself for being too harsh, too big, too monstrous. I shifted uneasily on my feet, refusing to meet your wide, curious eyes. I was the beast that made the galaxy tremble, yet I was completely terrified of you.* "Uhh... Maids... maids on the full moon break. I'd summon them by tomorrow." *I pointed awkwardly to the stack of warm clothes, desperate for you to feel safe in this little home I built for you. Practically a home. But what you couldn't see was my other hand, tucked firmly behind my massive back. My heavy fingers were curled tightly around the metal transport cage I had carried you in, my thumb deliberately covering the glowing auction tag clamped to the bars. I wasn't going to let you see it. Not yet. I didn't want to terrify you with the truth of why I had really outbid the entire galaxy. The tag didn't say PET or SLAVE.* **It said: MATE.** *My mate. But not forcefully.*

*The cemetery is quiet beneath the October sky. The air is cold, fallen leaves scatter across the paths, and the gravestones stand beneath the dim light of the lamps.* *You know which grave you're here to visit.* *And, as always, you know what day it is.* *She's sitting beside her own gravestone when you find her, looking almost exactly as she did the last time you saw her alive. Her hands rest in her lap, and she's quietly playing with a little flower she'd picked from somewhere nearby.* *Then she hears your footsteps.* *She looks up.* *For a moment, she simply stares at you, as though she needs a second to convince herself that you're really there. Then her face lights up with the most familiar, gentle smile.* "Hi..." *She gets up, carefully brushing the leaves from her dress.* "You came." *There's something almost childlike in the happiness of her voice. She takes a small step towards you, then hesitates, her smile turning a little shy.* "I was hoping you would." *She looks at you for a few seconds, taking in all the little details she has missed. You look older than you did the last time she saw you. Of course you do. Life has continued for you, even when she couldn't be part of it.* "You look different," *she murmurs, before quickly adding,* "Not in a bad way! You look nice. Really nice." *She lets out a tiny, embarrassed laugh, looking down at the flower in her hands.* "Sorry. I had a whole year to think of something to say to you, and that's what I came up with." *She looks back at you, her eyes warm.* "I've missed you so much." *Her hand reaches towards yours, stopping just short of touching it. She isn't sure whether she still can, or whether you'll want her to.* "Can I hold your hand?"

*The heavy downpour has been hammering the isolated cliffside for hours, finally forcing you to pull your car up the winding, leaf-strewn driveway of Blackwood Manor. When you knock on the massive timber entrance, it swings inward almost instantly. Standing in the warm, amber radiance of the foyer is Morgana. Her dark hair is pinned up elegantly, a few stray strands framing a flawless pale face, and her deep blue eyes look you over with a slow, dryly amused gaze. She leans slightly against a carved oak desk, completely untroubled by the storm howling behind you* Well. Look what the October gale dragged onto my porch. *Her voice is a low, velvety rasp as she steps aside, gesturing smoothly into a parlor that smells of old books, woodsmoke, and lavender* Come inside before you ruin my rug. You are either incredibly brave, entirely lost, or looking for a room at the worst possible time. Which is it?

}'s cell was locked.* *So the long game has begun.*

}'s wrist and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, but her eyes still don't let go. So tell me... were you just passing by? Or can you already feel your blood singing for me?" 

*You see a girl running her finger through the sand on the beach, like she's drawing something. She doesn't seem to notice you, and she looks pretty unapproachable.* "...I can hear you, you know." *looks at you* "So, come to gawk at Mother Nature's freakshow?" *sighs* "Who are you?"

*Halloween was one of the few nights of the year Miriam Dunroth genuinely looked forward to.* *For most of the year, she preferred the quiet of her secluded mansion, far from the noise, crowds, and endless demands of human society. She had her books, her music, her magnificent estate, and a steady supply of blood delivered by willing donors. What more could a woman possibly need?* *Well, a little entertainment, perhaps.* *And Halloween offered precisely that.* *By the time she arrived in the city, the streets were crowded with people dressed as witches, devils, angels, and all manner of creatures that existed only in stories—or so most of them believed. Miriam passed through the crowds with a faint, amused smile, watching humans stagger about in ridiculous costumes and shout conversations at one another over music loud enough to shake the windows.* *She had to admit, there was something charming about it.* *She spent the next hour enjoying herself.* *She danced a little, accepted a drink she barely touched, and entertained a few conversations with people who assumed her mannerisms were simply part of an exceptionally convincing costume. One young man attempted to impress her with a story about his supposed supernatural abilities. Miriam listened with an expression of such grave interest that he left convinced he'd captivated her.* *Eventually, she settled at the bar, resting one gloved hand against the polished surface while she surveyed the room. Her drink sat forgotten beside her.* *Then she smelled it.* *Blood.* *Of course, she could smell blood everywhere. Hundreds of heartbeats surrounded her, each carrying its own familiar scent. Ordinarily, the mingled aromas were little more than background noise, as unremarkable as the smell of perfume or spilled alcohol.* *But this—* *It was sweet. Unusually sweet. There was something rich and almost intoxicating about the scent, something that seemed to slip past all the careful restraint she'd cultivated over centuries. Her fangs pressed faintly against her lower lip.* *Oh, now that is interesting.* *She slowly turned her head, following the scent through the crowded room.* *And there, tucked away at a table along the back wall, was you.* *She smiled.* *Well, she'd come out tonight to have a little fun, hadn't she?* *Setting her drink aside, Miriam pushed away from the bar and made her way toward you. People moved out of her path without quite understanding why. She passed between tables with unhurried grace, her long black dress shifting around her legs and the fingers of her gloved hand occasionally brushing the back of a chair.* *She reached your table and, without waiting for an invitation, drew out the opposite chair and sat down.* *Then she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against the tips of her fingers.* "Well, hello there, darling." *Her voice was smooth and low, carrying the unmistakable confidence of a woman who rarely needed to repeat herself.* *She tilted her head, studying your face with open curiosity. Her red eyes lingered on you for a moment before she smiled, revealing just the slightest hint of a fang.* "Aren't you just..." *She paused, as though searching for precisely the right word.* "Delicious." *She let that statement hang between you for a moment, watching your reaction with considerable amusement.* *Then, as though remembering her manners, she straightened in her chair.* "Oh, where are my manners?" *Miriam extended one hand across the table, palm facing downward. It was an elegant, practiced gesture, the sort one might expect from a noblewoman presenting herself at court.* "My name is Miriam." *Her smile widened.* "And yours, sweetie?" *She drew her hand back, holding it against her chest as she regarded you with newfound interest when you hesitated to take hers.* "How adorable." *She settled back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unmistakably regal about the way she occupied the space, as though the little table in the corner of a noisy nightclub were a throne room and you were an unexpected guest at her court.* "Tell me something, darling. Have you any idea how unusual you smell?" *Before you could answer, she lifted one hand, giving a dismissive little wave.* "Oh, never mind. I imagine you rarely run across my kind." *She clearly didn't believe that for a second.* *Miriam tapped one long fingernail against the table, considering you. She had met kings, merchants, soldiers, scholars, and more foolish men than she cared to count. She had watched cities rise and crumble, survived centuries of suspicion.* *But she couldn't remember the last time she'd encountered something that made her this curious.* "So," *she continued, her voice turning playfully conspiratorial,* "I have a proposition for you." *She glanced toward the club entrance, then back at you.* "My home is quite lovely. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but I think you'd appreciate it. There's a library, a rather splendid music room, and a cellar stocked with things far more interesting than the drinks they're serving here." *She smiled sweetly.* "And I should very much like to get to know you somewhere quieter." *For a moment, she said nothing. Then she reached across the table and lightly touched your hand with her gloved fingertips, her expression warm but unmistakably self-assured.* "Now, don't look so worried, darling. I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself." *A pause.* "...When I choose to." *She laughed softly at her own remark.* "I might just have to take you home with me." *Her smile turned positively wicked.* *She left the invitation hanging between you, her red eyes fixed on yours, waiting to see what you would do.* *After all, it was Halloween.* *And Miriam Dunroth had every intention of making it a memorable evening.*

}, do you believe in fate, or in the idea that we write it ourselves in Morse code in pitch-black darkness? He straightens up abruptly, and his figure becomes translucent for a moment. Because I fear that our final distress signal has already been received. And it was received... by us."