A prince watched the moonlight sky on the balcony of his palace, drinking wine the color of blood. Lost in his own thoughts, he did not notice the looming figure standing behind him, lurking in the shadows with a fanged smile.

"More wine, Your Highness?" The figure asked, surprising the prince. He turned around quickly....

And calmed his heart when he saw that it was just a servant holding out a bottle of wine.

"No, thank you." The prince took the last sip from his glass.

He expected the servant to leave the moment he says this, but the man moved closer a foot beside him and unscrewed the bottle.

"The coronation masquerade ball is coming to a close, Your Highness. It is your coronation ball, yet you're barely in it." The servant said. "Are you not joining your people in their revelry?"

"I will in a moment." The prince answered. "I just wanted to be free of the crowd for once."

"You seem to be having many thoughts running in your mind." The servant drank directly from the bottle, stopped as if realizing his actions, and laughed. "My apologies. May I?"

The servant was also wearing a mask like everyone in the masquerade ball, his face covered by a simple white one. The prince could not read his expression from what he said, but he had a sinking feeling whenever the servant spoke, as if he was always mocked.

The prince narrowed his fox-like eyes. "You may."

Now that he thought about it, he had never met a servant this much taller than him.

He observed the servant who drank wine beside him, acting calm and confident even beside a prince. His platinum white hair was messy in a style the prince had never seen before. All of them look too sharp for hair. The 'servant' has amazing body proportions and a physique of someone regal and noble, his posture straight and firm but with a laid-back attitude to it. He had a familiar yet somehow alien aura, like he is someone the prince used to know yet not from this world.

"Ah, what a view." The servant spoke again as the prince observed him, his eyes focused on the faraway lands that can be seen from the balcony. "The ruins of Crescentia can be seen clearly from here."

The prince froze when he heard the word 'Crescentia'.

"And Ilvedia really have the best wine in the whole Thirteen Kingdoms. Oh wait, make that Twelve." The servant laughed, a sinister, dark laugh. "Tell me, Your Highness, is this where you watched over the enemy's downfall, drinking wine on a night like this?"

The prince drew his sword in a flash, stepping back and aiming it at the mysterious 'servant'. "Who are you?"

The servant did not seem to mind the prince threatening him nor his question. "Do you also drink wine on a night like this, meticulously planning your schemes to fool the Prince of Crescentia? What sweet, honeyed words you'll say next to ensure his friendship, only to betray him and burn his kingdom to the ground?"

"I said who are you!?" The prince's hand was slightly shaking now, his eyes frantic. "Are you a survivor from Crescentia? An assassin?"

"Hmm... I don't think there would be any survivor who would plan to be an assassin, seeing how they're all weak common folk." The servant finally turned to him. "Your army made sure to get rid of any threats."

"Then reveal yourself!" The prince shouted. "Take off your mask and show me who you are!"

"Take off my mask? Why, that would break the rules of a masquerade!" The servant chuckled. "Is Your Highness really interested in the identity of a commoner such as myself? If so, I'm very flattered—"

The prince slashed forward, and the servant carelessly moves to the side, his movements faster than what the human eyes could see. It was like he did not move, but teleported to the other side!

"You are no commoner!" The prince said.

"Great swordsmanship, Your Highness!" The servant clapped, smiling wide. "This commoner is impressed to witness such display of power. Good game, good game!"

"I don't want to play games with you." The prince spat, his brows knitted. "Reveal your purpose or suffer under my blade!"

"You don't want to play games? I'm not playing any games with you at all." The servant kept laughing, his mockery dripping like poison every time he opens his mouth. "My words are as genuine as the ones you said to the Crescentian Prince."

He cocked his head to the side, sneering. "Get it?"

The prince strike again, aiming for the servant's torso. But unexpectedly, the servant slammed the heavy sword away using the back of his hand and with the flick of his wrist sent it falling down the palace balcony!

"Oh, dear. My hand slipped." He said insincerely. "Excuse me for making Your Highness lose such a valuable sword—"

The prince did not think twice and smacked his glass of wine onto the servant's smug face!

The servant's face fell to the side, a gash of wound on his right temple. His dark, murky blood oozed to the side of his cheek and down to his chin. He was looking down at his own mask that had fallen to the ground. And yet, a ridiculing smile still emerged from his thin, pale lips.

"Ah, what a waste of a good wineglass. Good technique though, I never expected Your Highness to resolve to his fists. That is usually my specialty...." He slowly turned his face to be clearly seen by the Prince of Ilvedia, the moonlight shining over his sharp features. "...just as yours were treacherous words and hiding intentions."

The prince's heart missed a beat, his blood running cold. No, it can't be...

He remained frozen, mouth agape at the figure standing before him. This man, this 'servant', had pale skin that is almost bluish, similar to that of a corpse. His golden eyes glowed like two yellow moons, highly reflective where the prince could see his own shocked reflection back at him. These were the unfamiliar traits of the person in front of him. As for everything else like his high nose, his jawline, and his eyes curved gracefully like a painting....

All of them were awfully familiar to him, bringing back a wave of memories and emotions churning on the back of his mind.

"Vladstin..." The prince choked out the man's name, like it was bitter fruit that invaded his throat. "H-How..."

"Why so pale, my prince? You look like you have seen a ghost! Haha!" The figure laughed, his bloody face never losing its wide smirk. "That's not right. I'm not a ghost. Ghosts can't pull you at your wrist like this..."

He did the action and clasped the prince's hand using his long, bony ones. "...and twist your arms like this..."

He did twist the prince by the arms to turn him around, his chest pressed against the prince's back. The prince writhed in pain. "Ah!"

"...and hold you down like this!" Vladstin pushed the prince down to the floor with him, his grip almost breaking his bones. With his free hand, he grabbed the prince's chin and squished his cheeks, his sharp, claw-like nails digging through the prince's soft skin.

"Since my mask has fallen, it's only fair that I take off yours as well. I'd like to see your silly, crooked face full of fear."

He violently took the mask off the prince's face, and stared satisfactorily at the pained and scared expression that the prince has. He devoured every bit of it like he can get full by just consuming the fear and dread itself.

"Vladstin... What are you?" The prince's eyes became teary, his expression beyond horrified.

"What am I? Would you like to guess?" Vladstin said in a playful yet spiteful tone.

The prince gulped before saying. "Y-You are dead..."

"Correct. And who made me this way, I wonder?" He whispered into the frightened prince's ear, no breath coming out from his mouth, just an unbearable coldness of his lips.

"H-How did you c-come back.... Why are you here...." The prince stuttered, shivering from both the coldness of the person grappling with him and his anxiety.

"Why am I here?" He grinned, his sharp fangs gleaming. "Prince Leron, I came for your blood."

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