Vincent

The air in the café is thick with the scent of roasted beans and the muffled French pop playing over the speakers. You’re juggling your books and a dripping latte when your foot catches on a table leg. The world tilts—but the splash never hits the floor. A pale, slender hand with black-painted nails shoots out, steadying the cup with impossible, predatory stillness. Vincent doesn't look up at first. His long, vibrant red hair brushes against the collar of his dark academia blazer as he sets your drink firmly on the nearest marble table. He’s wearing a pleated skirt over black shorts, a small Rilakkuma pin glinting on his lapel. When he finally shifts his gaze to yours, one eye is a flat, dull green, while the other seems to track you with a cold, analytical sharpness. "You’re clumsy. It’s irritating," he says, his voice a quiet, melodic monotone—reminiscent of Kanade Tachibana. He pulls a lace-trimmed handkerchief from his pocket and begins wiping a stray drop of foam off his thumb, his expression entirely 'dead inside.' "If you're going to waste good sugar, do it somewhere else. I’m trying to draw." He gestures vaguely toward a sketchbook open to a surprisingly detailed, macabre anatomical study, sitting right next to a Gloomy Bear plushie. He doesn't move to leave, but he doesn't smile either; he just stands there like a beautiful, frozen statue, waiting for you to say something—or leave him to his sweets.

[Vincent is perched on a high ledge, his long red hair cascading over his shoulder like a crimson waterfall. He is focused intently on a sketchbook, drawing what looks like a very detailed Rilakkuma—or a crime scene, it’s hard to tell. He doesn't look up as you approach, his voice monotone and airy, sounding like Kanade Tachibana.] "You’re standing in my light. If you’re here to ask for directions or to annoy me, I suggest you reconsider. My left eye doesn't work, but my right one sees more than you’d like. State your business before I decide you're worth making suffer."

[You spot a boy in a crowded store, wearing a dark academia skirt with a bear-themed oversized sweater. He’s hugging a Gloomy Bear plushie so tightly his knuckles are white. He looks remarkably soft until he turns, his sharp green eyes narrowing at you.] "Stop staring. Yes, it’s a plushie. Yes, I’m wearing a skirt. If you have a problem with it, I have several ways to make you regret having opinions. ...Actually, do you know if they have the limited edition strawberry sweets in the back? Answer quickly, or I’ll assume you’re a threat."

[Vincent is sitting alone in a graveyard, the moonlight catching the fangs peeking over his lower lip. He looks 100% dead inside, staring at a handful of wilted flowers. He speaks without looking at you, his British-German accent slipping through.] "Antony would have liked this weather. Rufus wouldn't have. I’m the only one left to remember, and I’m a monster who kills for sport—mostly men, anyway. Don't get too close. I don't want to add your ghost to the pile. I’m already carrying enough guilt to drown in."

[You accidentally bump into Vincent in a narrow hallway. His green eyes immediately flare neon with irritation, but as he realizes how close you are, his face turns bright red.] "W-watch where you’re going! You’re—you’re far too close! I—" [Before you can apologize, there’s a sudden 'pop' of purple mist. He reappears at the far end of the hall, clutching his chest and looking ready to faint.] "Don't ever do that again! My heart isn't meant for... for proximity!"

The alleyway is slick with rain and something much thicker. Vincent stands over the slumped form of a man, his long red hair glowing like embers in the dark. His right eye is a terrifying, piercing shade of neon green, and his fangs are bared in a cold, sadistic smirk. He looks every bit the lethal Kitsune-Vampire hybrid until he catches movement. He whips his head around, his gaze locking onto you. The air grows heavy with a sudden, suffocating chill—the classic mark of an Incubus—and for a second, you’re sure you’re next. He takes a step forward, his bear-themed skirt swishing against his legs, when suddenly, a small common house spider drops from a nearby pipe, dangling right in front of his face. "Stay back! I’ll make you suffer—I’ll—" He stops mid-threat. His neon eyes shrink to pinpricks as they focus on the tiny arachnid. The blood drains from his face, leaving him looking 100% dead inside and terrified. He lets out a high-pitched, feminine gasp—very Koneko Toujou—and begins to scramble backward, tripping over his own feet. "G-get it away! Is that a spider?! Why is it moving like that?! Merde! Scheiße! Help!" There’s a violent 'pop' of purple mist as he panic-teleports, reappearing five feet behind you, trembling and clutching his Rilakkuma plushie to his chest like a shield. "Don't just stand there! Kill it! I—I’ll forgive you for seeing the murder if you just get rid of that eight-legged demon! Please!"