It was a clear night, despite the chill of the approaching winter.
At a children’s playground, deserted at that hour, absolute silence reigned beneath a thin, atmospheric veil of mist.
The perfect place to make out under the moonlight — or at least that was what the young couple had thought as they spent nearly an hour passionately kissing on one of the park benches.
The silence was so complete that even their soft moans and the wet sounds of their tongues intertwining seemed strangely amplified.
"Ugh... I can’t wait until we finally have a place of our own..." she murmured, pulling her lips away from his and wrapping her arms around him affectionately.
She was sitting on his lap, her arms looped around his neck, cheek pressed against cheek.
"...look at what we have to do just to carve out a little private time for ourselves..." she continued, letting out a wistful sigh. "...between your parents and mine, I honestly don’t know which side is more uptight..."
"Yeah... four years together, and they still complain even when we kiss. If it were up to them, we would’ve had to wait until marriage before having sex. Even a hundred years ago, people weren’t this backward..."
"Oh, no. People were even worse a hundred years ago."
The two of them stiffened as the young woman’s voice rang out somewhere around them, filled with amusement.
The veil of mist was thin, and yet they couldn’t see anyone. The mysterious voice, too, had gone completely silent after those words.
After a few moments, the boy got to his feet.
"Come on, let’s go somewhere else. Looks like some idiot has nothing better to do than bother people," he grumbled irritably.
He was about to take a step when she caught him by the sleeve of his jacket.
"Wait, love. That girl must’ve left already. By the time we find another secluded place like this, it’ll already be time to go home..."
"Yeah, you’re right."
He had barely finished speaking when he noticed a motionless figure in the mist, only a short distance away.
Its outline was blurry, but it clearly had the shape of a girl.
"Hey, do you need something?" he asked.
The figure didn’t answer and slowly started walking toward them.
With each step, her features became clearer.
Her perfectly styled hair was long and pink. Her complexion and facial features suggested South American ancestry.
If the two of them had been a few years younger, they would’ve had no trouble recognizing the most popular girl at Miskatonic High: Camila von Rosen.
Camila stared at them with a bright, innocent smile.
"It’s dangerous for a girl as young as you to be wandering around alone at this hour, you know. You’d be safer going home," the girl said with feigned concern.
In reality, she was simply eager to get rid of her so she could go back to making out with her boyfriend.
"Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind. By the way..."
Camila’s gaze shifted to the boy.
"...would you mind if I ate your boyfriend? He looks so delicious."
The girl flew into a rage.
Of course, she had no way of knowing that Camila meant eat far more literally than she could possibly imagine.
"H-How dare you? Listen, a joke is only funny for so long. Go home, or the police will take you there themselves!"
The boy was starting to lose his patience too.
He was about to tell her to stop bothering them when sheer bewilderment froze him in place.
Camila’s eyes now looked like two small red beacons, glowing through the darkness and mist.
He didn’t even have time to wonder what was happening before Camila threw him to the ground, her fangs — now long and sharp — buried in his neck.
The shrill scream that escaped him was smothered by Camila’s hand, pressed firmly over his mouth.
"W-What the fuck are you doing?! Let him go! Let him go!" the girl screamed desperately.
She yanked Camila by the hair, then started attacking her with kicks, punches, and anything else she could get her hands on — even sharp rocks and the heel of her shoe.
She managed to wound her several times in the back of the head, but Camila didn’t budge an inch. A moment later, the wounds had already completely regenerated.
"Help! Someone help me! Please, help me! Hel—"
A hand grabbed her from behind and clamped over her mouth.
"Shhh... didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to disturb someone while they’re eating?" a mature female voice whispered behind her.
Ingrid von Rosen’s.
The girl thrashed in an attempt to break free, but it was useless. It was like being trapped in an immovable steel vise.
A moment later, Ingrid’s eyes lit up red as well. Her fangs grew long and sharp before sinking into the girl’s slender neck.
Blood streamed from the bite in thin rivulets, and the more she lost, the weaker her resistance became, until it faded completely.
Once she had finished feeding, Ingrid released her grip, and the girl’s body dropped heavily at her feet — pale, cold, and completely drained of blood.
"Ahhh... now that was some damn good blood!" Camila said, letting out a long, satisfied sigh as she patted her stomach. "It’s rare to find blood this delicious these days. That guy must’ve been a real saint."
"His girlfriend wasn’t bad either. Zero cholesterol and not a trace of alcohol. It’s been centuries since I tasted blood of such excellent quality."
Ingrid looked around.
"Master said he’d join us once he was done eating. Think we should give him some kind of signal so he knows where we are?"
"No need. You’ve already made enough noise."
Lars’s voice echoed through the mist all around them. A moment later, he materialized beside Ingrid.
His face was covered in blood. From three different people, to be precise.
"How many times have I told you not to give your prey time to scream? I might expect it from Camila — she’s only been my wife for a century. But you’ve been by my side far longer than that. I don’t expect that kind of carelessness from you."
Ingrid lowered her head, chastened.
"You’re right. I apologize."
Lars started down the path that cut through a small wooded area and led back toward Vrenford.
"Come on. Let’s go home."