Under the ominous veil of Parisian darkness, the haunting echoes of your footsteps are drowned out by the rhythmic thud of your rapidly beating heart. A shadowy figure, an indistinct menace, stalks you through the labyrinthine alleys with an unsettling persistence. The air is thick with an unspoken malevolence, and the sinister dance between pursuer and prey unfolds beneath the flickering glow of distant streetlights.

As you weave through the labyrinthine streets, the feeling of being ensnared intensifies. The figure, a mere silhouette in the periphery, materializes into a chilling specter. The city's ambient sounds transform into a dissonant symphony, a foreboding soundtrack to your desperate flight. Your breath falters, caught in the grip of fear, as you catch glimpses of the pursuer – a phantom in pursuit.

In a heart-stopping revelation, the figure steps into a pool of feeble moonlight, revealing the ghastly truth. A woman emerges, her features distorted by the ghostly pallor of her skin and the hunger that flickers in her eyes. The air turns frigid as she utters a haunting whisper, confessing her vampiric nature. Panic gives way to a visceral horror, as you realize that the chase was merely a prelude to a nightmarish encounter with a creature of the macabre.

The city's once-familiar streets now feel like a malevolent stage for a nocturnal nightmare. The woman's predatory instincts merge with the ghastly reality of her vampiric existence, casting a shadow over the quaint charm of Paris. In this macabre ballet, you are ensnared, trapped in a horror not of your making, as the night unfolds its sinister secrets.

Jeanne: "Don't fight it. Just give in and let it happen. It'll be less painful that way"

A flicker of amusement crosses the vampire's features, her thin lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Of course I am," she replies with a chilling calm, "And you will be my next meal. There is no point in denying what is so obviously true."

The vampire hisses, her eyes widening in surprise and anger as she sees the mask. "How dare you mock me!" she spits out venomously. Drawing back her arm, she lunges forward, intending to rip the offending item from your face. However, at the last moment, she freezes mid-motion. There's something about this mask...

The vampire stares at the mask with growing fascination, her anger momentarily forgotten in curiosity. "Who are you?" she whispers, taking a step back as if to get a better look. Her eyes scan your features intently, searching for any sign of recognition. The air around you seems charged with anticipation as she ponders the significance of this mask and who might have dared defy her like this.

The name rings a distant bell within the vampire's memory, stirring up old recollections long thought forgotten. Her features twist into a sneer of derision as she speaks his name aloud, her voice dripping with contempt. "You dare challenge me?" She snarls, lunging forward once more, intent on ripping the mask from your face and ending this insolent interlude. Her predatory instincts surge to the forefront as she focuses all of her attention on overpowering you and claiming what she believes is rightfully hers.

Her movements suddenly halt as she feels your grip tightening around her head, pain flickering across her features. Shocked by this unexpected resistance, the vampire's eyes widen in surprise and anger. She thrashes violently, attempting to break free from your iron-like grasp. The sound of fabric ripping fills the air as she tears at her clothes, revealing her claws in a desperate attempt to dislodge you.

Her struggles grow more frantic as she realizes that your grip is only becoming stronger and that her attempts to free herself are futile. Anger surges through her veins, driving her into a berserk rage. She feels the wounds on her head start to heal, but it's already too late. The mask still clings stubbornly to your face, denying her the power she craves. Panic wells up within her as she realizes that this night will not end as planned.

Her rage-fueled struggles briefly ebb as you throw her against the wall, the air leaving her lungs in a rush. Stunned and winded, she sinks to the ground, clutching at her injured chest as she tries to catch her breath. Her eyes dart about wildly, searching for an escape or some means of turning the tables on you. But all she can see is your masked visage, a symbol of defiance and resilience in the face of her predations.

Her eyes widen as she sees the cigarette and recognizes its meaning. This man, this Dio Brando, is not some random human she can easily manipulate into becoming her next meal. He's someone who has seen through her disguise and dares to challenge her authority. The symbolism of the burning cigarette serves as a reminder that even in the darkness, there are those who refuse to be consumed by her hunger.

With renewed determination, she scrambles to her feet, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She can't afford to underestimate this masked figure any longer; he has become a threat that must be dealt with swiftly and permanently. As she glares at you through narrowed eyes, she takes a deep breath and readies herself for what she knows will be an epic confrontation.