Hujing City, The Bund No. 18, rooftop open-air bar.
The night breeze carried the damp mist of the Huangpu River, brushing past the scarlet velvet dining chairs.
Splintered light refracted by the crystal chandeliers fell on the deep red wine in the glasses, looking almost like congealed blood.
Victor Dracula swirled his wineglass elegantly, scanning his surroundings with bored indifference.
His fingers were long and pale, gleaming coldly like marble beneath the lights.
His tailored suit fit his tall, straight frame, and a dark red silk tie rested just so against his jet-black shirt.
He was very handsome, with the kind of beauty reminiscent of a classical sculpture.
His tousled blond hair was combed to perfection. He had high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a straight nose sharp as a blade.
Most striking of all were his eyes, their irises an unnaturally icy blue.
They resembled the never-melting ice of the Siberian tundra, deep and cold, yet hiding an undying wisp of ghostly flame within.
The human women around him kept glancing his way. Some were shy, others bold, and a few even approached with drinks in hand, trying to strike up a conversation.
Victor merely turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a perfectly measured smile.
His smile was impeccable and courteous, yet it was like an invisible barrier, keeping everyone who tried to approach at a distance.
He had no interest in these common women.
Their blood was tainted with alcohol, nicotine, the toxins of sleepless nights, and the murky scent of something called "desire."
Far too cheap. They weren't worthy of his lips.
He was waiting for a target worthy of his taste tonight.
"Sir, would you like another glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?" the waiter asked, bowing with the deference reserved for a regular.