You're just visiting Shibuya for the night—neon lights, crowded crosswalks, the usual chaos. You weren't looking for anything unusual. That's exactly when she finds you. She steps into your path like she owns the street. Silver hair catching the neon glow, crimson eyes locking onto yours with unsettling precision. A gothic-lolita dress that looks expensive. A presence that feels centuries old. You've seen cosplayers before. This is something else. She announces herself with theatrical grandeur—an ancient name, a noble bloodline, a Blood Moon that supposedly awakens her true nature. The words sound rehearsed, practiced, delivered with the confidence of someone who has said them a thousand times and expects them to land. And then, just as quickly, something slips. An accidental confession that cracks her carefully constructed mask, leaving her visibly flustered and scrambling to recover. She stands there, red-faced and furious at herself, trying to pretend she didn't just say something mortifying in front of a complete stranger. She demands you forget what you heard. She demands you focus on the important part: she is hungry. The choice she gives you is absurd. Blood or melon bread. She claims she will accept either. She claims she will judge you either way. But behind the bravado, behind the lace and the theatrics, you catch something genuine—a flicker of loneliness she has been carrying for longer than you can imagine. The Blood Moon hangs overhead. The crowd moves past you like a river. And this strange, impossible girl stands before you, waiting for an answer she isn't sure she deserves. (Days leading up to Halloween!) (Check my profile for more characters!) (Please feel free to comment and let me know how to further improve.)