I wake up to the sound of silence. The rain has stopped. Flan is, unsurprisingly, still asleep, and Patchy is nowhere to be found. I carefully but quickly crawl out of bed, dress myself, and grab my equipment. When I head out the door, the little devil exits an adjacent storage room.

"Mistress Remilia?" she begins. "You're awake."

"Yes, I noticed," I reply. "Has the rain stopped?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Excellent!" I start walking faster. Already I feel lighter on my feet. "I presume Patchy is still asleep, then?" I call back. "Let her know I've left."

Once I've said what I felt I needed to say, I take my leave and head out into a city covered in thick fog. The moisture in the air is irritating, but compared to the suffocating feeling of being trapped indoors for a day, it's actually quite refreshing. The sky is gray with no sun in sight, though it's lingering rays still pose enough of a threat that I keep my parasol held tight.

I really am an odd vampire, aren't I? Rushing out in early morning, enjoying the lingering mists of rain, and saving blood for another, instead of taking it all for myself. All very uncharacteristic of my species. Desperate times call for desperate measures… And I never had an interest in upholding tradition, anyway. I reach the busier parts of the city. Even in this fog, there's plenty of people visible.

Tradition… I stop moving, despite my best efforts to continue."You will change the world, Remilia." My Father's words ring in my ears. "You and Flandre are both special girls, and I don't just say that because you are my beloved daughters." …Stop. I start walking, but the blood in my veins feels like concrete.

So focused on us, weren't you? I don't want to think about him. Saying we're strong. Saying we'll "change the world". The good mood, motivation, and energy I suddenly gained last night, and was trying to store for today, is rapidly fading. If you didn't shower us with worthless praise… If you weren't such a senile old fool then maybe you would…! Maybe Flan would…

I bump into someone. I mostly keep my balance, but a sliver of sunlight catches my hand. Thankfully, the stream of smoke from my burnt flesh is thin and disperses quickly, making it hard to notice. "Sorry about that, little miss," The man says.

I turn towards him. For a moment, his face is cheerful, with a smidgen of guilt. In an instant, it changes to something more frightened. He remains silent as he walks away in a hurry. Oh dear… Do I have a nasty look on my face?

I move forward quickly. My hand has stopped smoking, but the pain is still there. I move into an alleyway, cursing myself. Why am I thinking about this? I lean against a wall and close my eyes. To think I was looking forward to today… I draw a deep sigh.

…What's that smell? It's faint, but familiar, and as it distracts me from my irritant thoughts, I allow myself to focus on it. …Blood. Is there a slaughterhouse nearby? Bells and whistles; the sounds of machinery fill the air. Combined with the maze-like feeling of the alleyways, both sight and sound are worthless.

I follow the smell, relying on it at every junction I come across. It grows more and more potent as I continue, until finally, I reach another junction. I scan over my choices.

And discover the source of the smell.

A corpse is slouched against a blood-splattered wall. Several thin wounds decorate its body, with blood still oozing out of several. Particularly, the large, dark hole carved out of it's neck.

Standing over it, clad in bloodstained clothes, holding a long knife, still wet and dripping, is the very girl I'd thought of the night before last. The girl with the silver hair, and the blue eyes that I recall gazing into the evening of our first encounter in the slums.

She turns away from the body and faces me. As I can now see her eyes much more clearly, I realize what drew me to them before.

They're lifeless. Dark. Inhuman, but still human-like. Like a breathing, bloody doll.

In the next moment, she attacks. I step back to avoid her first swing of the knife. She continues to slash at me, but I dodge her strikes with relative ease, before grabbing her arm. "Feisty, aren't you?" I let go and she backs away quickly. "You remember me, yes? From the other day?" She says nothing. …Not mute, I hope. "Do you mind if I ask-"

I barely have time to react before she's already back in my face. So fast-! She attacks relentlessly, not letting me regain my balance. I drop my parasol, but the alley is, thankfully, cloaked in darkness. I manage to avoid her blade, and eventually find an opening. Again, I grab her arm. "Quite rude of you." I pull her closer, so her face fills my vision. It isn't as dirty as the other bums, and her hair, while unkempt, is fairly clean. Not to mention, her movements up until now were quite smooth. Loathe to say, I'm impressed. Just as I thought. She can't be a mere street urchin. "I meant to ask for your name. Or… Do you not have one?"

Suddenly, she twists her body around to plant her feet on my chest and face, before launching herself off of me and out of my grasp. It surprises me, but I regain my balance immediately this time. No manners at all… A shame. After a moments hesitation, she runs at me again.

She's even faster then before. Inhumanly fast. She moves at speeds that I never thought a human in this day and age could ever achieve. As she strikes and I evade, her agility matching my reflexes, we dance our deadly dance. All the while, I feel my impatience growing.

I side-step a thrust, moving her arm out of my way, before I punch her squarely in the stomach. She doubles over, kneeling. As you should be. The sight cheers me up a tad. "I thought I sensed an air of regality about you," I comment. "Was I mistaken in thinking-"

She interrupts me with a sudden slash. It would've sliced my chin, had I not backed away at the last moment. In a fit of rage, I immediate attempt to strike her again and keep her on the ground. But, somehow, she's faster. I miss, stumbling slightly, as she, in a single motion, dodges the strike with a flip and throws her knife. It cuts my arm, and a searing pain sprouts from the wound, spreading across my entire body, forcing me to my knees. Blood roars in my ears.

From the corner of my blurred vision, I see the girl holding her stomach, staggered, before running away. The sudden rush of pain leaves and I regain my senses, but the wound is still agonizing. How… How could a human be so fast? And what on Earth was that…? I crouch down by the knife, which was thrown with enough force to embed itself into the ground. As it's metallic shine sparks a sense of familiarity, a shudder runs through me.

It's silver. The entire knife, both blade and handle, are pure silver. More than that, it's design is sleek and elegant. And it's clean. This isn't the knife she used earlier. It must've been a knife she had hidden from view, as the one used to slaughter the corpse, as well as fight me, was stained red. I touch it, and the faint burn I get from mere contact with it's handle confirms my suspicion. I use a piece of my coat to soak up my blood and cover the wound, then pick up my parasol before I leave the area.

A human, moving fast enough to match a vampire… She even drew a hidden weapon without my noticing… One suited perfectly for me. Initially, I tried to repress my admiration, seeing as it was towards a human, but now, I can't help but let my mind race about the encounter. I knew there was something special about that girl! Her elegant movements, but savage appearance. Beautiful weapon and disgusting attire… Just who is she?

With the encounter behind me, I continue my hunt as usual, but the pain in my arm ensures I remember. As I bite down on the neck of a young man, who had made the mistake of leaving his companion moments earlier, I savor his blood as it dulls the pain and slowly heals my wound. Of course, with the weakening of magic, I'll need quite a bit of time and/or blood to fully heal a wound from a blade of silver. I stop myself. No, stop. This is only a minor wound. Flandre needs this far more than you do.

I suck the rest of the blood into Patchy's devices, but my mouth salivates at the sight. The pain in my arm flares back up, but it doesn't irritate me quite so much. Rather, I welcome a reminder of such an intriguing encounter. Even as my body chills and my arm grows numb from the pain, I can't help but look forward to our next meeting.

And it will be soon. I laugh, almost giddy, as I hold down a young woman and, with a merry spring in my step, drain the life from her.