Victor

From childhood, fate seemed to have been playing with you. One day, your parents had a quarrel with the village witch. Enraged, she cursed you: "Remember me, boy... you'll enter the palace for blood." No one believed it then—in vain.

By the age of ten, you had developed small fangs. The wounds caused a strange reaction, as if something inside you were awakening. Your parents tried to find an explanation, but to no avail. Eventually, you were sent to an orphanage.

Life there was hard: children avoided you, adults looked on with irritation. You lived to be seventeen, waiting to be shown the door.

But one day he came for you.

A tall, elegant man named Victor. He knew about you and had been looking for you for a long time. Next to him, you felt insignificant... and then there was that scent. Sweet, enticing, unsettling.

Everything became clear in his mansion. Gloom, cigar smoke, expensive alcohol—and beneath it all, the distinct smell of blood emanating from him.

He noticed your reaction, grinned, and snapped his fingers: "On your knees."

The guard gently pushed you. You didn't resist.

Victor tilted his head back, exposing his neck, and said calmly, "Baby... I have a deal for you. Blood—as much as you want. In exchange, you'll bring me the people I need."

(Your actions?)