First encounter: beginning of mutual understanding

In the dazzling world of cinema, one name shone brighter than the rest—Mia Raven. With a mere supporting role in the Hollywood blockbuster "Speed Runner," Mia made her grand entrance onto the public stage, leaving an indelible mark. Her remarkable acting prowess and daring stunts propelled her to unprecedented heights of fame, her popularity spreading like wildfire across Europe. Movie after movie, she effortlessly ascended from supporting roles to headlining blockbusters, captivating audiences with her captivating performances in action and fantasy realms alike. Mia had firmly established herself as an A-list actress, reigning supreme at the pinnacle of her career.

Award ceremonies became her second home, adorned with accolades like the People's Award and the illustrious Empire Award, all of which she had collected in a whirlwind of success over a mere four years. Beyond the glitz and glamour, her net worth soared into the millions, a testament to the remarkable journey of a woman who had taken the world of cinema by storm.

Amid the dazzling spotlight, a moment of vulnerability emerged as a paparazzi photo stealthily captured Mia Raven on her very own property, making her way into the sanctuary of her home. The image portrayed a stark contrast to her glamorous public image – disheveled and unwell, a far cry from the persona she projected on the silver screen. Like wildfire, the photo raced through the corridors of social media, igniting a storm of reactions. From every corner of the globe, fans' voices rose in unison, a collective uproar fueled by genuine concern. Messages of worry flooded the digital landscape, a testament to the emotional connection Mia had forged with her admirers.

Mia Raven projected an image of ethereal innocence, her beauty and graceful figure capturing the eyes of all who beheld her. But beneath the facade of a stunning actress lay a being who had walked among humans for centuries, absorbing their ways, learning their intricacies, and mastering the art of manipulation. Her evolution was extraordinary, culminating in a real-life portrayal that transcended the silver screen. Every expression, every gesture was under her meticulous control, a skill that left others grappling to decipher the true workings of her mind. Her enigmatic presence challenged anyone to discern the intricate schemes weaving within the depths of her thoughts.

With a furrowed brow etched with concern, the aged butler ascended the staircase, each step echoing with a sense of weight. The hallway loomed in dimness, illuminated by the soft, amber glow of the lights that cast long shadows across the furry black carpet beneath his feet, each step accompanied by a tactile friction.

"Madam, I have brought your meal," the butler announced softly as he placed a tray outside the door. Upon it rested a black bottle and an elegantly designed glass, their contents hidden from the world. A secret known only to those privy to the truth. Inside the bottle coursed human blood, a crimson lifeline transferred from the mundane bags that hung in sterile environments. This ritualistic exchange marked a curious pact, a part of a world unseen, where the boundary between human and other was drawn in shades of red.

After the incident, three days had slipped by, the door to her sanctuary steadfastly shut. Empty bottles outside her door had become a silent yet cryptic communication with the butler, who remained perplexed by the unfolding situation.

In Mia's abode, two young maids, both in their early twenties and attending college, shared in the household's daily affairs. Their responsibilities encompassed maintaining the cleanliness of the premises and caring for the garden, while the butler shouldered additional duties, ensuring the estate remained pristine. Amidst the veil of curiosity that shrouded Mia's closed door, the maids provided a touch of youthful vibrancy, a stark contrast to the veiled mysteries that lay within.

For nearly three years, the women had diligently served under the terms of their signed contracts, enticed by the promise of generous compensation. Their loyalty to their roles was unwavering, their tasks involving meticulous cleaning that left no corner of the house untouched. Their presence graced the premises twice a week, always during the evening hours, though they consistently avoided venturing into the upstairs corner rooms.

These contracts, valid for a span of five years, imposed a multitude of rules that the women had to adhere to. The butler, their architect, had penned nearly hundreds of guidelines that shaped their work environment. Among these directives were strict prohibitions: silence was to envelop them during their hours of work, the lens of a camera was never to capture their surroundings, the upstairs corner rooms were zones beyond their reach, and the allure of social media was to remain untainted by any mention of Mia.

An intricate web of regulations governed their professional lives, with even the possibility of crossing paths with Mia underlined as a situation to neither anticipate nor desire. These mandates, woven with meticulous precision by the butler.

Their tasks were straightforward, and the allure of a substantial paycheck eclipsed any potential complaints they might have had. Yet, as is human nature, the forbidden often beckons curiosity. Slowly but surely, an interest began to bud within them for the enigmatic household they frequented. It all started the night years back when they first laid eyes on Mia, catching a glimpse of her as she ventured out into the night.

The paradoxical nature of the situation was undeniable: despite being Mia's residence, they had never once encountered her during their dedicated working hours. This singular fact only fueled their intrigue, laying the foundation for the growing fascination they felt towards the household they knew so intimately, yet barely comprehended.

For the very first time, Mia returned that day, shattering the norm they had come to accept. Startled by her actual presence, their surprise was undercut by the palpable tension that hung in the air. Huddled in a secretive retreat behind a door at the far end of the hall, they strained to catch a glimpse of the woman who had, until then, remained an enigma.

"Goodness, it's really her," one of them breathed, a mixture of awe and disbelief in her voice.

"Quiet down, do you want to risk losing our jobs?" admonished the other, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with trepidation.

With deliberate steps, Mia ascended the staircase, her gaze piercing through the distance as if attempting to penetrate the very walls that concealed them. They had never anticipated such a direct encounter, and in that moment, silence seemed their best defense.

[Whispering]

"Did she catch sight of us?"

"I warned you to keep quiet."

"But the butler's not around."

"Yes, I know, but we're bound by our contracts, remember?"

Resuming their tasks, they returned to their cleaning duties in the living room. However, the allure of speculation persisted, and one of them couldn't resist sharing her latest tidbit.

[Whispering]

"Did you hear? She was seen with an unfamiliar man again."

"You mentioned that same thing at my place ten days ago."

"Shally, seriously, give it a rest. You've always said she's friendly to everyone. What about just now?"

"She didn't spot us. Can you please keep quiet?"

As the conversation continued, another girl approached, her pace deliberate. Drawing closer to Shally, she leaned in and shared, "I heard a rumor that she frequents the home of that businessman." Turning her gaze to Shally, her light brown eyes held a questioning look. "What was his name again? Right, COLE."

Mia's eyes flashed open, a piercing red hue that seemed to emanate an intense glare. She lifted her head from the bed, an image reminiscent of the eerie apparitions from horror movies like "The Ring." With her once-high ponytail now undone, her wavy brunette hair cascaded freely around her. Lying face-down on the pillow, she absorbed every whispered word, her senses attuned.

A sudden fury ignited within Mia as she honed in on the source of the recent conversation. Her gaze locked onto the girl, her anger so palpable that it seemed as though she might tear her apart. In that charged moment, it felt as if she could almost fly towards her, a force of nature driven by a potent mixture of emotions.

A sudden resounding "BANG" echoed through the room as the door swung open with a forceful impact, the butler's hand colliding with the wall. His presence commanded attention, his voice dripping with anger as he addressed the two girls.

"Do the two of you have a death wish?" he thundered, his frustration palpable in his tone.

"And you," he added, his finger pointing directly at the girl with light brown eyes who had been the most vocal. "Don't set foot in this place again." His voice was unwavering, his decision final.

"But, Mister..." Shally interjected, her voice tinged with fear as she attempted to stand up for her friend.

"Out. Now," he interrupted sharply, leaving no room for negotiation. The two girls exited the room, their protestations fading into the distance as they left, trailing a mixture of disappointment and apprehension in their wake.

A heavy sigh filled the air, a collective exhale of relief permeating the tense atmosphere. From downstairs, the butler's voice broke the stillness.

"I apologize for that, madam," he called out, the tension of the recent encounter lingering in his words. With her anger slowly ebbing away, Mia settled back into her original position, the room returning to an uneasy calm.

[1989]

The young butler's senses gradually returned, warmth seeping into his consciousness. With great effort, he opened his heavy, dark brown eyes, greeted by the sight of a thick candle flickering beside him. Adjusting to the feeble light, he surveyed his surroundings, noting a door at the back of the room. Memories of his recent actions flooded back, and panic gripped him once again. Struggling to regain control, he propelled himself towards the door, his movements frantic.

But his efforts were thwarted as he realized he couldn't stand—his body was securely bound to a wooden chair by a taut rope. Panic set in, and his breath came in ragged gasps.

"Pant! Pant! Pant!"

"Help!" he cried out, desperation punctuating his voice. "Help!"

The young butler's deep, worried voice reverberated through the room as he let out a desperate scream, his body straining against its restraints. The chair's four legs pounded against the wooden floor, creating a cacophony that mingled with the heavy thump of his feet against the ground.

"Shush... hhh..." A hissing whisper suddenly emerged from the left corner of the room, a woman's voice that seemed to materialize from the shadows. The sound had an otherworldly quality, sending shivers down his spine. His already weak body was overcome with a renewed sense of panic, the unfamiliar sound compounding his fear.

The faint sound of a matchstick striking against a rough surface resonated in the room, and a small flame was born. The tip of the matchstick met the wick of another candle, nestled in the left corner of the wall. As the candle's light gradually filled the space, revealing more of the room's secrets, the young butler's surprise and confusion were met with a fresh wave of fear.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice a mix of astonishment and trepidation. The room's illumination allowed him to discern more details, and as the candle reached its full brightness, he laid eyes upon a woman who defied description. Clad in a black, see-through nightgown, her beauty was ethereal. Her long, wavy hair glimmered like a constellation of fireflies in the night. Yet, her face remained obscured by shadow, as she faced forward, cloaked in darkness.

Encountering a woman of such striking allure was an entirely new experience for the young butler. As she approached, her figure revealed more than the dress could conceal, causing a flush to rise to his cheeks and his expression to betray his innocence.

"Look at you..." Her finger, adorned with long, red nails, trailed across his chest as she circled him slowly. Overwhelmed by the situation, he squeezed his eyes shut as if to shield himself from the intensity of it all.

"It's fine," her voice, laced with a seductive quality, reached his ears. "Open your eyes. Isn't this something what you mens prefer?" Her words dripped with suggestion, inviting him to embrace the moment and release his inhibitions.

"Ma'am, where am I? Why am I tied up like this? And who are you?" His eyes fluttered open as he took in his surroundings. His gaze caught sight of a disconcerting stain of dried blood that seemed to trace a path from his loosely buttoned shirt to his right chest.

"Did I... did I die?" he questioned aloud, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and confusion. "Is this... is this hell? Did I fall down the stairs?" His voice trembled as he contemplated the unimaginable.

"Silence, human boy," her hiss once again reached his ears, her annoyance palpable.

"Listen," she continued, her tone carrying a weight of authority. "You're the first human to ascend those stairs in a decade. I have a proposition for you—I want you to work for me."

Confusion swirled within him as he absorbed her words, his eyes darting around the room to reconcile the situation with his present predicament. A memory lingered, of a cold pain gripping his neck, but now it was as if that experience had been erased.

"Alright... but can you undo these ropes first?" he stammered, his voice a mix of trepidation and hope.

Her response was anything but expected. "Oh, wait... Should I mention I'm a vampire? And that I've got a hankering for your blood? Oops, too late," she purred. Leaning closer, her breath sent shivers down his spine as her tongue brushed against the nape of his neck. The electrifying touch rippled through his body, prompting him to suppress his instinctive reactions even as he struggled to avert his gaze from hers.

"Sure thing, haha. Please untie me now," he retorted, his smile masking his unease as he subtly evaded her touch.

"Look, all I want is to get out of here, okay? I don't care what you're saying, and I certainly don't trust it," he asserted, his annoyance palpable as he raised his voice in frustration.

"If you're going to be sticking around, you can address me as Mia. Mia Raven," she stated, her fingers lightly playing with her hair as she moved toward the bed, a subtle air of mystique surrounding her.

"Pardon me, but could you kindly allow me to depart from this place? I'm afraid I find it rather difficult to place my trust in your words," he addressed her, his tone polite yet tinged with frustration.

In a swift motion, she appeared before him, emitting a hiss as her sharp, white fangs were exposed. Her eyes bore an intense red hue, framed by darkened veins. "Is this sufficient?" she inquired, her presence compelling him to stillness.

He stood immobilized, akin to a sculpted figure, unable to utter a word or shift his position. His eyes remained fixed upon her, unblinking and brimming with moisture, a full minute passing in a tense silence.

"Allow me to elucidate: firstly, I harbor no intention of causing you harm; secondly, your allegiance to me is expected for the duration of your existence; thirdly, a disclosure to anyone regarding my existence shall result in your demise. Are these terms comprehensible to you?" she queried, her voice laced with a menacing undertone, as she leaned closer, her words a chilling whisper in his ear.

"You already did..." he mumbled, his speech mechanical, as if manipulated by unseen strings. His words were cut off as his consciousness faltered, and he once again succumbed to unconsciousness, his body falling limply.