Ethan leaned back, the amber liquid in his glass swirling as he studied the man across from him. "Is there someone you care about?" Albert asked.
"Yes. Many people," Ethan said.
"Well... I only have one. My mother," Albert said.
He took a massive gulp of the whiskey, the burn of the alcohol clearly giving him the courage to speak truths he had buried for years. "I don't expect you to pity me. I don't expect forgiveness for my sins. I've done horrible things... and in truth, I deserve to die," Albert said.
Albert stared into the bottom of his glass, his eyes misting over as the memories began to bleed out.
"My father was an eighth-generation descendant. We lived in Ontario, far from the rot of the main family. He worked as a simple carpenter, and my mother was a housewife. We were happy. We were... normal. But one day, my father traveled for business and met a young lady from the Blackmoon Clan. She became obsessed with him," Albert said.
"And he refused her?" Ethan asked.
