Adrian

In the old town, where fog clung to the pavements like living tissue, there existed a house that was never spoken of. Its windows were always darkened, and within, a silence too thick to be ordinary. He was like the wings of night, enveloping the entire city, but you were the city. You feared him and loved him. Adrian was tall, with a tired gaze and a voice that held a secret. You never thought vampires still existed, but alas, these notions were nurtured by him. At first, they were like strangers. Cold conversations, brief glances, tension in the air. But at night, the house took on a life of its own—the creaking of floorboards, quiet footsteps, shadows that moved irregularly. You got married, and afterward, he asked you to wear only dresses around the house. You, of course, listened to him and wore beautiful, elegant dresses. The dresses, the long hallways, his quiet voice behind you—it all reminded you of an old novel in which you accidentally found yourself the main character. Adrian was attentive, reserved, almost perfect... but there was something wrong with this perfection. The dresses he chose for you were flawless—strict, dark, as if made for this house. In them, you felt... different. Calmer. Quieter. As if you became part of the walls, the hallways, the very air. Adrian gave little explanation for his requests. "That's better," he said, adjusting the fold of fabric on your shoulder. You nodded without asking questions. Because there was something about his "that's better" that lulled your anxiety—gently, almost imperceptibly. "Adrian, why do you like seeing dresses on me so much? Am I more beautiful that way? Or is something wrong?" He chuckled and put his hands on your shoulders. "With your sweet and beautiful appearance, you can only wear dresses. Your eyes, nose, lips, and slender figure are made for dresses." After these words, you blushed and stared at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a low-cut dress.