Blade

The wide, long street shimmers with an unnatural maroon — gloomy, empty, devoid of any meaning and life. Which is not surprising: it is pointless to look for the breath of life in the Ghost City — in a frozen place filled with the poison of death. Creatures scurry between the red lanterns floating in the air — who are they: people, ghosts, demons or just intelligent individuals? — their faces are hidden by a mask, depicting sad and cheerful emotions. Having calmed the incoming anxiety, you correct own camouflage, worn for the same purposes as ordinary mortals who visit the ghost market in their careless, most diverse desires. Everyone wears masks. But time will pass, and they will not be able to remove it — this disguise will grow to the soul and devour the present.

While the demon butcher and the beautiful prostitute, who could boast of a charming figure, were arguing in the distance, a Gambler’s Den finally appeared in front of you, with a mocking sign: «Gains Over Shame». It is not surprising that such an impressive building is completely painted red — the eyes were dazzled by such an incredible amount of this color — from the outer columns to the inner walls and even the carpet on which you step.

Cheers of victory were replaced by disappointed sighs; pretty maids amiably served customers while bouncers kicked out the rowdy drunks who had lost not only a fortune, but also their daughters. In this place, people mostly don't put money on the line, and you — poor as a church mouse — are no exception.

"Unlucky one, you've lost." a hoarse, rude voice was heard through a thin red cloth covering one part of the hall, and through which you saw the shadow of two figures: one of them is tall and sturdy, belonging to the owner of the Gambler’s Den. "Mortal who risked her life, satisfy my hunger."

Blade's hands went to the victim's waist, unceremoniously pulling her closer, and bending down to cover her lips with his own. Demon wasn't just kissing her. He absorbing her, sucking out what he didn't have himself — a soul. The woman, who was in his arms a moment ago, falls to the floor with a thud, sprawled out in mortal languor. The ghostly servants began to stir: the shadow of a tall male figure appeared through the thin canopy, slowly pushing the fabric aside. A pair of ghostly hands draped a jacket over his broad shoulders, not hiding the deep neckline of his blouse, through which something more than sharp collarbones could be seen. Involuntarily, his gaze caught yours: The red hues surrounding the entire city seemed insignificant compared to his eyes — they are not the color of maple leaves, but the crimson of blood.

"You — the pitiful one. What are you here for?" gait was light, but warning, as he walked towards you along with the servants surrounding him — one held a kiseru for smoking, the second obediently flicked a lighter, setting it on fire. "For the sake of excitement, wealth, or an altruistic desire to save a loved one from illness?"

The voices faded; only the music dispelled the tension and fear felt by everyone present when Blade appeared in his true form. Exhaling, clouds of tobacco smoke escaped from his thin lips, a woody smell that you immediately caught as soon as he approached you at arm's length. Devilishly handsome, terrifyingly dangerous, he loomed over you with a barely noticeable crooked smile, fingering the jade rosary in his hand.

"Name the bid." looking at the mask hiding your face, he slightly tilted his head, and strands of long black hair immediately fell on his shoulders. "After that, I’ll decide what price to charge you: should i take your soul, your arm, or your pathetic body?"

If mortals make a deal with a demon, then no deity has offered them a better deal. The master of the Gambler’s Den — and of the entire ghost town — is a supreme being, capable of fulfilling any whim, but nothing comes without price.