Backlund, West District, a mansion ablaze with light.
A lilting melody drifted through the great hall, where men and women embraced one another and danced with elegant grace.
The gentlemen in their tailcoats were all tall and handsome, and the ladies held in their arms had slender waists and full, graceful curves, their pale shoulders and backs gleaming under the warm-toned light.
What was startling was that every guest at this ball, man or woman, young or old, possessed features of exquisite refinement and eyes of crimson red. It lent the whole gathering a subtle sense of unreality.
Beyond the sheer beauty of the attendees, this ball had another peculiarity: nowhere was food being offered to the guests.
At an ordinary Loen ball, the long tables were expected to offer, at minimum, cold dishes, hot dishes, sweets, and wine, for guests to enjoy once they'd tired themselves out dancing.
Without these, it would be seen as a grave oversight on the host's part, and the whole affair would become a laughingstock across society.
And yet none of the guests here seemed to mind, because they had something better on offer.
Along one side of the dance floor stood several attendants, standing at proper attention, holding trays that bore a bottle and a few stemmed glasses.
Unlike ordinary wine, these bottles were transparent, and under the light, the liquid inside gleamed a clear, brilliant crimson.
Mysterious patterns floated across the surface of each glass bottle, giving off a faint spiritual glow that kept the liquid within perfectly fresh.
"Tell me about this bottle."
A young, handsome man stepped up and spoke to the attendant before him.
"Of course... The provider of this bottle is an eighteen-year-old lady, born locally in Loen, in good health and full of vitality."
The attendant said respectfully, holding out a photograph for him to see.
"A girl fresh into adulthood? Now that's rare indeed."
The man studied the youthful, vibrant girl in the photograph with evident interest. "How did Baron Cosmi manage to get hold of this one?"
Baron Cosmi was the host of this evening's gathering.
"As it happens, the provider wished to have a new dress of her own for her coming-of-age ceremony, but her family's finances were rather tight," the attendant explained.
"A hospital funded by Baron Cosmi sought her out, and under the pretext of medical research, paid her a sum in exchange for donating some blood..."
The attendant was remarkably well informed about the background of each "wine's" source, for these guests were discerning connoisseurs, exacting in their standards for the blood's owner, its flavor, and its quality.
"An innocent girl with her whole future ahead of her... how lovely indeed... may she have enjoyed her coming-of-age day..."
The man sighed in admiration, a flicker of longing rising in his crimson eyes, his throat working. "Pour me a glass."
"Yes, sir."
The attendant set to work at once, pouring the "wine" from the bottle into a stemmed glass, filling it only a shallow third of the way before presenting it to the man.
The man raised the glass, closed his eyes, and took a gentle sip. His features quickly relaxed into an expression of pure pleasure.
"What an exquisite taste..."
He said, savoring it. "Pour me another."
"I'm afraid, in order to protect that young lady's health, the amount of 'wine' we collected is limited..." the attendant said respectfully. "Your rank isn't quite sufficient, sir. You may only sample a single glass, Mr. Emlin."
"What did you say?"
Emlin White opened his eyes and looked at the attendant, his expression darkening with displeasure.
"Your rank is not sufficient."
The attendant remained unmoved.
"...Hmph. Fine, I understand."
After a moment, Emlin said, none too pleased. He set down his glass and turned to walk away, the good mood he'd gained from the blood entirely gone now.
Damn it, if I were a baron, that attendant would never have dared refuse me, he thought to himself.
Among us vampires, rank and status are drawn awfully clear lines... which is both a good thing and not a good thing at all.
Indeed, this ball was in fact a private social gathering among Backlund's own vampire circle.
This clan of vampires lay dormant within human society, carefully restraining themselves, satisfying their thirst for blood through money and power rather than violence and cruelty, and thereby managing to coexist alongside humankind.
After enduring the tedium of the ball for a while longer, Emlin and a few of the younger vampires were summoned to a room at the back of the mansion.
"I set you young ones a trial some time ago."
Baron Cosmi said, looking over these vampires who had only recently come of age. "So then, has today brought me any good news from any of you?"
Emlin's chest tightened.
As it happened, a little over a week earlier, this vampire baron had summoned the new generation of vampires, Emlin included, to this very room and set them a trial.
Due to the unrest between the Life School of Thought and the Rose School of Thought, a number of Beyonders who worshipped the "Primordial Moon" had appeared in Backlund, quietly spreading their influence in secret... and the Primordial Moon was a mortal enemy of their vampire clan.
To keep this evil god's faith from spreading, these young vampires had been called together and assigned the task of hunting down five followers of the Primordial Moon.
Whoever among them claimed the most kills would receive a commendation from the Duke, with the chance of further advancement, or other rewards in exchange...
Emlin had originally not wanted to attend this gathering at all. He'd been busy tracking down the whereabouts of those Primordial Moon followers.
But Baron Cosmi, the host of the ball, had specifically summoned him, saying he wanted to check on his progress.
And so far, Emlin... hadn't found a single one.
His search through the East District had turned up nothing, and no one at the Tarot Club had offered him any useful information either.
Small wonder he hadn't wanted to come to the ball at all, when he'd rather have kept searching.
"Baron Cosmi, I've already managed to find one, and I've hunted him down."
Just as Emlin was turning these thoughts over in his mind, one of his peers, Russ Bathory, who had been fortunate enough to receive the inheritance and become a vampire "Baron," stepped forward.
Having said his piece, he turned and swept a glance over the others, an unmistakable look of smugness on his face.
"Well done."
Cosmi nodded. "And the rest of you?"
Among the other vampires, one more had also succeeded in hunting down a target, while two others said they had already picked up some leads.
So then, I'm the only one who's come up empty, without so much as a single clue...
Just as Emlin was growing anxious over this thought, he suddenly noticed Cosmi's gaze turn toward him.
"Emlin White, and you?"
He asked.
"I..."
Emlin opened his mouth, at a loss, awkwardness creeping over him, unsure of what to say.
"Please, don't be so hard on Emlin, Lord Cosmi."
Russ Bathory let out a scornful laugh. "He's better suited to staying home and pursuing some more refined art form... making a few dolls, perhaps?"
A ripple of stifled laughter went through the room.
...Bastard!
A surge of anger rose in Emlin's chest. "Don't talk nonsense. Dollmaking isn't something you can just toss off easily, it requires..."
He would have been better off saying nothing at all, for the moment he opened his mouth to explain, the other vampires could no longer hold themselves back, bursting into laughter, filling the whole room with cheerful, mocking energy.