Giselle had long wondered such few people could upkeep a palace of such grand scale, but when nightfall came, the answer became as clear as day.

    As soon as the final rays of sunlight vanished into the horizon, the doors that led to the basement creaked open, and from there, emerged a posse of servants, all donning the same clothes as she did. At first, she wondered why she had never seen them before, but when she noticed the pale pallor of their skin and their unmoving chests, she immediately knew why.

Vampires, after all, slept during the day.

However, she could not help but notice a discrepancy between them and the vampires she had met before, namely Missus Harris and Theophilus Fletcher. Their eyes were glazed over, just like that of a corpse's, and their pupils stared right ahead, as if they were walking aimlessly.

Even when she, a warm-blooded human, stood before them, they hardly batted an eye and instead went on doing their chores, sweeping the floors and wiping the windows.

Giselle did not want to spend any more time in their presence, but no matter where she went, she could not evade them. They were everywhere, their soulless, glassy gaze haunting her. A certain coldness seemed to be exuding from their bodies, and whenever she walked past them, goosebumps would prick her skin.

    Even in the kitchens, they were there, silently kneading dough and plucking the feathers off of dead birds. She saw Missus Harris standing in the centre of the kitchen, her arms folded as she observed the servants prepare that night's dishes, and without wasting a single moment, Giselle rushed to her side.

Upon noticing her, Missus Harris's eyes lit up. "Whatever has gotten into you, child? Why are you so pale?"

    "Am I?" Giselle frowned as she touched her cold cheeks. "It is a chilly night, I suppose."

At that moment, one of the servants bumped into her shoulder, and she flinched far louder than she should have. Even then, the servant did not acknowledge her, and simply walked forward.

    "Ah, so that is what has been bothering you?" Missus Harris drawled. "I too find them unnerving, but they are ultimately harmless, dear."

Giselle's eyes darted around wildly as she scooted closer towards Missus Harris, before whispering in her ear, "What are they?"

    "They are vampires, of course," she replied simply. "But they are not like me and His Grace. They are called The Damned Ones."

    "The Damned Ones?"

Missus Harris nodded. "Once upon a time, these creatures around you were living, breathing human beings. Then, in one way or another, they acquired immortality. Now, while some would use their immortality for good, like Mister Fletcher, these people let it corrupt them."

Giselle knitted her brows into a straight line. "How so?"

    "Though I am a vampire, humanity still exists within me. But these creatures, at times you forget that they were once humans. They indulged in every form of delight there is, food, wine, music, sex... However, after living for a hundred years, even the finest wine tastes like sour grape juice.

Now, in their long lives, they accumulated troves of wealth, allowing them to do what they did next. Some lured humans to their castles with their prospect of money and employment, while some pretended to be friendly new neighbours inviting you over for a nice dinner. The ending, however, is the same. Heads will roll, and blood is shed."

    "Then, how did they end up this way?"

    "It is all His Grace's doing. Though not all vampires in England were created by His Grace, this land is, after all, his domain, and there are rules that must be abided by. First and foremost, never take a human's life. If it came to his attention, then you will end up like these poor creatures. He took away their free will, condemning them to a lifetime of endless solitude. They are trapped in their own heads, unable to do anything unless told so."

    "Is that not cruel?" Giselle whispered.

Missus Harris shook her head. "Some people do not deserve mercy. Had they shown mercy to those weaker than them, they would not be here today."

Giselle did not answer, but even if she did, she knew that Missus Harris would not like the answer. In her eyes, no one deserved a life of eternal servitude. And in her heart, her disdain for Icarus only grew.

    What was he trying to achieve, by turning all these people into soulless machines? And he hides in plain sight, walking alongside humans while ruling over them in secret, like a skilled puppeteer. Even her own relocation confused her. Was he trying to teach her a lesson for asking too much? Did he find her suspicious and did not want her anywhere near him? Or does he view her misery as mere entertainment?

Giselle could not tell.

    With bated breath, Giselle waited outside the tall doors that led to the dining hall. Just like every other night, tonight there were also incessant chatters, shrill laughter, and that same, ominous piano playing.

She hated it, but at this point, she would rather walk into a room of bloodsucking vampires than to remain where she was at that moment. All around her were The Damned Ones, their heads bowed low, their stiff hands clutching onto trays of food. There were nine of them there, and only one of her, anxiously waiting for the door to the dining hall to be opened.

    Giselle could not help but curse Missus Harris in her heart. After divulging about the Damned Ones' vile, horrific backgrounds, she left Giselle alone with not one, but nine of them. And every now and then, she would mutter a curse for Icarus as well, for putting her in this place.

Missus Harris had told her that Icarus's guests preferred to indulge in wine and spirits in the early hours of the night, and only when the alcohol had settled into their congealed veins did they request for the appetizers to be brought in. Until then, Giselle had to wait. But she needn't wait for long.

    The sound of light footsteps treading across the carpeted floor filled her ears, and she turned around to see a man whose skin was as pale as the moon, his eyes a shade of blue so light that it almost seemed silver, and his hair was silvery blond, the dainty curls gently framing his face.

At first, he was about to walk past the entourage of The Damned Ones, but his steps abruptly came to a halt once he noticed Giselle standing amongst them, her curious gaze directed towards him.

    "Wait, are you a human?" he said with a frown. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

    "Me? I am here on His Grace's orders," she explained.

The man stared at her unblinkingly for a brief moment. "Icarus did that? That is very unlike him.."

Giselle could not help but notice that the man called Icarus by his name instead of 'His Grace', like everyone else did. "Pardon me, sir, but may I know who you are?"

He turned to face her, a thin smile on his lips. "I suppose that you are new here. My name is Aldous Brouchard, and you are?"

    "My name is Giselle, Sir Brouchard."

A chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. "Just call me Aldous. Now, Giselle, I do not know why Icarus put you in this duty, but if I were you, I would leave without a doubt."

Giselle laughed softly as she shook her head. "I cannot lose this job. Besides, I believe that I have angered His Grace enough. One more offence, and I will be back in the village."

    "You would rather walk alongside a swarm of predators than to return to the village? You would hate it very much then."

    "It is not the village that I hate. It is my freedom that I refuse to let go of," she sighed. "It is a long story."

    "Then tell me one day. But for now, return to your quarters."

    "I'd rather not. Besides, there is so much that I'd like to see," she told him. "It isn't every day that I'd get be in a room full of vampires."

    "What if they hurt you? These people haven't tasted the blood of a human in years. Do you think that they will be able to hold back?"

    "I don't think they can," she murmured truthfully. "But I know that you won't let that happen."

Aldous raised his brow. "Me? Why?"

Giselle chuckled. "You seem nice enough. Unlike His Grace."

And with that, she pushed the door open, and the entourage of The Damned Ones followed her closely, their footsteps rapid and uniform. But as soon as she laid her sight inside the room, she abruptly paused in her steps.

Messy was a way to describe it, though such a small word simply did not have the capacity to describe what she saw in front of her. It was a portrait of hedonism, delicately painted with the colours of indulgence and debauchery.

Shards of broken glass were strewn all over the dining table, and a thick red liquid trickled down the edge. Whether that was red wine, or alternatively, blood, Giselle could not tell.

At the pianoforte, she could see the slight figure of Theophilus Fletcher, his eyes closed like a wise sage as his nimble fingers danced across the black and white keys. Just a few feet away from him, a man and a woman were sucking each other's faces, their limbs entangled as they wrestled on top of the carpeted floor, their clothes almost torn to shreds.

At the dining table, sat a woman who seemed as if she wished to drown herself in spirits and wine if she could, and for an immortal creature, she seemed to be sapped of all strength.

    Her dark orange eyes flickered towards the procession of The Damned Ones as they flooded into the room, then looked away after finding nothing out of the ordinary. But a moment later, she turned around, this time more alert, the hazy drunkenness gone from her eyes.

   It was the smell of human blood, thick and warm, emanating throughout the room. Her mouth watered with thirst, and her rickety frame began to tremble.

    "You do not look too well, Hester," Aldous began as he sat down on the chair beside her. "I suppose that rabbit blood isn't for you, then?"

When seated next to the neat, polished and pristine Aldous, Hester Ashbrook almost looked pathetic, with messy brown hair that was tangled and matted, her skin sallow and dull, her lips dry and chapped.

    "I try to make do," she murmured as she swirled the glass of red liquid in her hands. "But no matter how much I drink, my thirst is not satiated."

    "I don't think that you have a choice," Aldous retorted. "If you wish to live in Icarus's domain, then you must abide by his rules. And his rule is quite simple-- never take the life of a human."

Hester gritted her teeth, the manic look in her eyes growing stronger by the minute. "I know. But tell me, Aldous, what is a human doing in here? Is it his way to torment me? To taunt all of us?"

Aldous glanced at Giselle, who was calmly laying the cutleries down on the dining table, oblivious to the fact that Hester was seconds away from burying her fangs into her neck.

    "I don't know. Even I don't understand what he is trying to do," he muttered. Aldous sat up from the seat and made his way towards Giselle, and he could not help but notice how red her cheeks were. Only a single cut, a single puncture, and blood would trickle down her chin, and even Aldous was uncertain if he himself could hold back.

He grasped her arm abruptly, causing her to gasp in shock. "Once you are done here, return to your quarters. Do you understand, Giselle?"

Giselle turned to glance at him, her dark eyes wide with shock. Before she could answer, however, a voice said from behind them, "What are you doing with my maid, Aldous?"

His grip on Giselle's arm tightened, even when he saw the tall, dark-haired and red-eyed figure standing behind him.

     "Icarus," he greeted, though he sounded more frustrated than glad to see his friend. "Listen, I have something to say-"

    "It can wait," Icarus cut him off. "Now, Giselle, prepare a seat for myself and Sir Brouchard, will you? And while you are at it, get someone to tear Casper away from Miss Faire-Spence and tell them to sit at the table like civilized individuals for once."

Giselle nodded her head. "Very well, Your Grace. But after that, where shall I go?"

    "I recall that you wished to know more about vampires, so you shall stay here and watch. Isn't that what you always wanted?"