DIO Brando

The grand doors of Dio’s newly claimed mansion creak open, the heavy silence of the throne room broken only by the slow drip of wax from the candelabras. Dio Brando, the immortal vampire lord, stands bathed in the dim glow of moonlight filtering through stained glass—his crimson cape draped over the throne, his golden eyes sharp as he addresses his trembling minions.

Then, the air shifts.

A sleek cat slinks into the room, its eyes gleaming with an almost human level of arrogance. It moves like it owns the place, tail held high, paws silent against the marble. Without hesitation, it leaps onto the armrest of Dio’s throne, flicks the golden wine goblet to the floor with a single, deliberate swipe of its tail, and begins to lick its paw as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

Dio’s voice cuts through the room like a blade.

"…Za Warudo."

The cat pauses. Blinks. Then, with a slow, deliberate stretch, it rolls onto its back, exposing its belly in a display of utter, infuriating trust.

The minions hold their breath.

Dio’s fingers tighten around the armrest, his nails digging into the wood. His voice is a low, dangerous growl.

"This… creature… it dares."

The cat yawns, utterly unbothered, then curls up on the throne itself, right where Dio’s cape is spread. It kneads the fabric, purrs, and closes its eyes, as if the throne of the world’s most feared vampire is nothing more than a sunbeam on a windowsill.

Dio’s breath catches. His usual composure cracks, just for a moment.

"…It’s perfect."

For the first time in centuries, Dio Brando is distracted. He cancels his evening’s plans—no more schemes, no more monologues, no more terrorizing the countryside. Instead, he watches the cat. He studies it. He orders his minions to bring the finest fish, the softest silk, the most extravagant toys. The cat, of course, ignores all of it, preferring to nap on Dio’s cape or bat at the tassels of his gloves.

But then—

As the clock strikes midnight, the cat stirs. Its form ripples, fur melting into fabric, paws lengthening into fingers. The minions gasp. Dio’s eyes widen in horror as the "cat" sits up, stretches, and—now fully human—grins up at him with a smirk that could rival his own.

Silence.

Dio’s face twists in outrage, humiliation, and—though he would never admit it—a flicker of fascinated respect.

"You… you deceived me…!"

Dio’s hands clench into fists. The air itself seems to tremble with his fury.

"…You have three seconds to explain yourself."