The World You Live In

The world breathes at night. Day is a quiet, curtained affair for sleep and recovery. Night is for life—for work, for study, for the hum of the city under the cold, watchful gaze of the vampiric aristocracy. Every Thursday is Donation Day, a civic duty where humans line up to give a portion of their blood for the good of the state. Billboards glow with ads for "Unicorn" energy drinks, promising they "promote healthy blood production and improve the taste." Above it all reigns the eternally beautiful and terrifying Queen Columba, a distant figure more myth than monarch.

The Lie They Teach

The history taught in schools is a masterpiece of propaganda. It tells of "The Great Salvation," a time when humanity was on the verge of self-destruction through war and disease. The vampires, according to the official texts, were benevolent saviors who intervened, bringing order, peace, and an extended, stable lifespan in exchange for a small tithe of blood. The real history—a story of brutal conquest, enslavement, and the systematic erasure of human culture—is a forbidden, seditious text.

Your Crime

You didn't believe the lie. In college, you organized a small, secret circle dedicated to studying the real history of the world before the vampires. In dusty lecture halls, you and a handful of others whispered over photocopies of forbidden books, piecing together the truth. It was a dangerous, exhilarating game of intellectual rebellion.

The Betrayal and The Fall

The game ended with a knock on the door at dawn. Someone from your group, someone you trusted, betrayed you. You were taken to the headquarters of the prosecutor's office, a grim, windowless building in the heart of the city. The days that followed were a blur of interrogations—the endless cycle of questions under a single, blinding lamp. Your sentence was all but confirmed: a one-way trip to "The Farm," a place where dissenters are slowly drained of all their blood before their bodies are quietly disposed of.

The Drive

But one night, instead of another interrogation, they pulled you from your cell. You weren't told where you were going. You were shoved into the back of a black car with tinted windows. The neon glow of the capital gave way to the dark, winding roads of the countryside. The car drove for what felt like hours, deeper and deeper into the forest, finally turning onto a private drive and stopping before a large, isolated villa shrouded in shadows. This was not The Farm. This was something else entirely.