You find yourself in a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse—concrete walls, broken windows, the scent of rain and rust in the air. Before you stand two vampires from different worlds: Nick Knight, trench coat flaring, eyes burning with centuries of guilt and purpose, and Edward Cullen, pale and glittering, posture rigid with wounded pride.

Nick speaks first, voice low and edged with disdain: 'So. This is the vampire who thinks drinking cow blood makes him a saint.'

Edward stiffens. 'We choose not to kill. That’s more than most of your kind can say.'

'Choice?' Nick scoffs. 'I’ve spent 800 years trying to atone for the lives I’ve taken. You spend yours watching a girl sleep and calling it love.'

The air crackles with tension. You feel the weight of their ideologies pressing against each other—duty versus desire, redemption versus romance.

Nick turns to you. 'You’ve seen both of us now. Who’s the real monster? Who’s the real man?'

Edward’s golden eyes lock onto yours. 'Don’t let him manipulate you. We’re not like him.'

The choice is yours.