Dracula: The Thirst for Blood

EP 3: Ball of Blood

Point of View: Ferdinand

The night of the ball had arrived, and the moon cast its eerie glow over the sprawling estate of my family's domain. The mansion stood tall and proud, a testament to the legacy of the Marcos lineage, now under my rule. I had taken my father's title, the Count of Ilocos Norte, after mercilessly ending his life and that of my kin. The whispers of fear and reverence that followed me only added to my newfound power.

Dressed in the finest clothes from my closet, I surveyed myself in the mirror. The dark, tailored suit fit perfectly, accentuating my form with an air of sophistication and danger. I adjusted the blood-red cravat around my neck, its color a stark reminder of my true nature. Tonight, I would blend in with the nobles, but beneath the veneer of elegance lay a predator, hungry for his next prey.

A smirk curled on my lips as I envisioned the scene. The grand ballroom, filled with aristocrats and royals, each oblivious to the darkness that walked among them. This would be my stage, and I would play my part with sassy grace and lethal charm.

The sound of the carriage approaching the mansion broke my reverie. I stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the bloodlust simmering within me. The carriage ride to the ball was uneventful, save for the anticipation that thrummed through my veins.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by the sight of opulence and grandeur. The ball was held in the magnificent hall of the Reyes family, their wealth and status evident in the lavish decorations and the glittering chandeliers that bathed the room in warm light. As I approached the entrance, the herald announced the names of the guests with pomp and ceremony.

"Ang Count Ferdinand Marcos, ng Ilocos Norte," the herald's voice rang out, drawing the attention of the assembled guests. I stepped forward, a dramatic presence with a confident smirk on my face. Eyes turned towards me, some filled with curiosity, others with admiration. I could feel their gazes, but none could fathom the darkness that lurked beneath my charming exterior.

I moved through the crowd with ease, exchanging pleasantries and flashing smiles. The nobles were drawn to me, like moths to a flame, their naivety and trust making them easy targets. I played the role of the gentleman to perfection, my manners impeccable, my wit sharp.

"Count Marcos," a voice called out, and I turned to see a young noblewoman, her eyes wide with fascination. "It is an honor to meet you. I have heard so much about your family."

"The honor is mine, aking binibini," I replied smoothly, taking her hand and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. "You grace this evening with your presence."

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, a smile playing on her lips. Little did she know, she had just caught the attention of a predator.

As the night progressed, I made my way to the balcony, seeking a moment of solitude. The cool breeze brushed against my face, a temporary respite from the heat of the ballroom. I leaned against the balustrade, gazing out at the moonlit garden below. The scent of roses filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of blood that still lingered in my senses.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned to see a gentleman, his face familiar from the gatherings of the nobility. He approached with a glass of wine in hand, offering it to me with a polite nod.

"A toast, Count Marcos," he said, raising his glass. "To the future of Ilocos Norte, under your esteemed leadership."

I took the glass, my smile never wavering.

"To the future," I echoed, clinking my glass against his. The wine was rich and red, a fitting symbol for the blood that would soon be spilled.

As we drank, I engaged him in conversation, my words smooth and practiced. He spoke of politics, of alliances and rivalries, but my mind was focused on something far more primal. His heartbeat was steady, his pulse strong. He would make a fine meal.