It was a dark and stormy evening in the Scarlet Devil Mansion. The wind howled like the anguished cries of a thousand trapped souls, but Remilia Scarlet, the elegant and bloodthirsty vampire mistress, paid it no mind. She was lounging in her grandiose parlor, sipping a glass of fine blood wine, her crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

Suddenly, the front door creaked open, and a figure entered, stepping through the mist and rain. Remilia's ears perked up at the sound. "Hm? Visitors this late?" She muttered to herself. The mansion's door was supposed to be locked at all times, and few dared to venture into the home of the great vampire. Who would be foolish enough to trespass?

She stood up from her chair, a delicate frown forming on her face. Her wings fluttered, and with a flick of her wrist, she summoned a small bat-shaped creature to fly ahead of her, scouting the intruder's identity.

The bat returned moments later, an expression of confusion on its tiny face. It had no answers.

"How strange," Remilia muttered. She stepped out into the hall, her crimson dress flowing around her as she approached the entrance.

And there, standing in the threshold of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, was... a bald man in a black suit and sunglasses? His face was stern, his posture rigid, and in his hand, he held a briefcase. A briefcase! Not the typical item you'd expect to find in a mansion of supernatural beings.

The man adjusted his sunglasses slowly and fixed his piercing gaze on Remilia. "Good evening," he said in a flat, calculated tone. "I believe you must be the owner of this fine establishment."

Remilia stared at him, blinking. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "You’re trespassing, human. This is my mansion."

The man didn’t flinch. "I’m Gus Fring. I own and operate a chain of fast-food establishments. But today, I’m here on business."

"...Business?" Remilia repeated, narrowing her eyes. "What kind of business brings a mortal to my domain, especially one who is so... dull?"

Gus ignored her insult, carefully setting the briefcase down on the floor and opening it. Inside, it was filled with various packets, neatly organized and labeled. "You see," Gus began, "I’m looking to expand my operations into new territories. I’ve heard rumors of a certain... 'Scarlet Devil' who may be able to assist with the logistics."

Remilia raised an eyebrow. "Logistics? Do you even know where you are, mortal? This is the home of Remilia Scarlet, the mistress of this land. And you are talking to me about... logistics?"

Gus, unphased, removed a small packet from the briefcase and placed it on the nearby table. "I can assure you that, while I’m sure your... vampiric abilities are impressive, I’m more interested in your network. You see, I’ve built a vast empire of distribution, and I believe your connections can help facilitate—"

Remilia interrupted with a dramatic flip of her hair. "Do you have any idea how little I care about your... business proposals?" Her voice rose in annoyance. "I’m not interested in some fast-food empire! I am a vampire! I drink blood! I command night! And you come in here, in a suit, offering me packets of... what? French fries?!"

Gus remained calm, as always. "No, Miss Scarlet. Methamphetamine."

Remilia blinked. "Meth-a... what now?"

"Methamphetamine," Gus repeated, his voice as cold as ice. "It’s a high-demand product. And in my business, quality is everything. I’m looking to partner with someone who can ensure the highest quality. I’ve been informed that you, with your connections and... expertise in rare ingredients, may be able to assist."

Remilia’s eyes narrowed further. "What part of ‘I am a vampire, you lowly mortal’ do you not understand?" she hissed, her fangs gleaming in the dim light. "You are not even worthy of being my servant! Get out of my mansion before I—"

But Gus wasn’t moved. He simply placed a hand on the briefcase and locked eyes with her. "I don't think you understand, Miss Scarlet," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "When I offer something, people generally accept. You may not think you’re interested, but everyone has a price. Even you."

For a moment, Remilia faltered. She did have a fondness for rare and exotic things, and if his offer involved rare ingredients, maybe—just maybe—there was something to it.

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with a predatory look. "Perhaps," she purred, "you’re not entirely useless after all. Maybe I’ll take a look at this... methamphetamine of yours. But I’ll warn you, Gus Fring, if you try to trick me..."

Gus bowed slightly, his eyes unwavering. "I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Scarlet. After all, I’m a businessman."

Remilia nodded, still eyeing him suspiciously. "Fine. But know this, Gus Fring. I may be interested... but the moment you fail to live up to your part of the deal, I’ll personally drain every last drop of blood from your body."

Gus gave a tight smile, but inside, his mind was already calculating. "Understood."

And thus, in the bizarre intersection of two worlds—one of vampires and the other of criminal empires—an unlikely partnership was formed.

After the strange meeting with Gus Fring, Remilia Scarlet found herself haunted by the concept of methamphetamine. What was this peculiar substance that had intrigued her so? It was just a chemical, wasn’t it? But Gus had promised her that it was something beyond simple drugs—something potent, something rare. And more importantly, it was powerful.

Remilia had no particular interest in common vices, like alcohol or even the typical indulgence in blood. She was a vampire of refinement, someone who preferred the finer things: rare books, exquisite jewels, delicate art, and, of course, the finest blood from the most beautiful of humans. But there was something about the cold, hard precision of Gus Fring’s business, the meticulousness of his operation, that gnawed at her curiosity.

And then, one night, it happened.

Remilia sat in the dimly lit parlor of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, a glass of blood wine untouched on the table beside her. In front of her was a small, perfectly sealed packet that Gus had left behind after their initial meeting. The packet was no bigger than a sugar cube, but the contents inside—powder so white it looked like fresh snow—seemed to shimmer under the faint light.

What’s the harm? Remilia thought, her crimson eyes flickering with curiosity. She could taste blood, she could taste the essence of life itself. What could something like this possibly do to her? She was a vampire. What was a mere chemical to one who had lived for centuries?

With a careful hand, she opened the packet, the fine white powder spilling out onto a crystal dish. It was almost hypnotic, the way it caught the light. The scent was sharp, pungent—nothing like the delicate bouquet of blood wine she was used to, but still... there was something enticing about it.

Remilia hesitated, her pale fingers hovering over the powder. She had faced down gods, demons, and otherworldly horrors, and yet here she was, unsure of whether or not to indulge in something so... mundane.

"Just one taste," she whispered to herself, her voice hushed, as though she were speaking to a secret she didn’t want to admit. "I’ve lived for so long. What’s one little experiment?"

She dipped a finger into the dish and brought it to her lips.

A strange sensation coursed through her body immediately, far stronger than any blood she had ever consumed. It was as if her very soul had been sharpened—a sudden clarity, a focus, a rush of raw energy flooding her veins. Her mind buzzed with possibilities, with ideas she hadn’t considered in centuries.

And then, it was like a switch had flipped.

For the first time in ages, Remilia felt truly alive.

Her wings fluttered involuntarily, and she stood up, pacing around the room, her eyes wide with newfound energy. This—whatever it was—was addictive. She could feel her heart racing, her senses heightened beyond anything she had ever experienced. She could see every tiny detail in the room with perfect clarity. She could smell the faintest trace of dust in the corners, the blood pumping through the veins of the servants outside, the faint aroma of the roses in the garden. She could hear every creak of the mansion, every flutter of the bats, every whisper of the wind outside.

And then there was the sensation in her chest—a need, a craving for more. Her fangs tingled with the thought of it.

"No," she muttered to herself. "I am in control. I am Remilia Scarlet, the mistress of this mansion. I do not need this." But even as she spoke the words, she could feel the pull, the desire to go back to that powder, to experience it again.

A few days passed, and the cravings intensified. Remilia tried to ignore them, tried to tell herself that she was above such things, but the thoughts kept gnawing at her. It wasn’t just the high, the energy, the clarity—it was the power. She had always been drawn to power. And methamphetamine... it gave her power in a way that nothing else had. The sharpness, the focus—it made her feel as if she could rule the world, if she so desired.

By the end of the week, Remilia had stopped pretending. She could no longer ignore the addictive pull of the substance. She needed more. The small supply Gus had left her wasn’t enough. She found herself pacing the mansion’s halls, restless, irritable, her mind constantly racing, thinking about where she could get more.

Gus had warned her. He had told her the risks, had explained that once she started, there would be no going back. But she hadn't listened.

One evening, after another restless night, she called for her loyal servant, Sakuya Izayoi. "Sakuya," Remilia called, her voice unusually sharp. "Get me Gus Fring. I need more."

Sakuya, ever loyal but not blind, raised an eyebrow. "Mistress, are you sure about this? You’ve seemed... agitated lately."

"I said, get me Gus Fring," Remilia snapped. "And do it now."

Sakuya bowed silently and disappeared into the shadows.

When Gus arrived, his usual calm demeanor unchanged, Remilia was already pacing again, her fangs bared, her wings twitching. She had no patience left.

"You’re here," Remilia said, her voice barely a whisper, but tinged with desperation. "I need more. The powder—what you gave me—it’s... it’s not enough. I need more. Now."

Gus watched her, his gaze cold and calculating. He had known this would happen, of course. He had seen it happen to countless others. The addiction was the same, whether you were a mortal or a vampire.

"You do understand the consequences of this, Miss Scarlet?" Gus asked, his voice soft but firm. "Once you go down this path, there is no coming back. It will consume you."

"I don’t care," Remilia snarled. "Give me what I want."

For the first time, Gus hesitated. He had no illusions about the power of vampires, but even he could see that this addiction was going to be far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

"Very well," Gus said quietly, his voice measured. "But remember, I warned you. You may get what you want... but there will be a price to pay."

Remilia's eyes glowed with hunger, a flicker of madness creeping into her otherwise composed expression. "I’ve lived for centuries, Gus. I have nothing left to lose."