Halloween for the General

She was coming closer, light and easy—as if her feet didn’t touch the floor. Her curly red hair gleamed like red copper. The shroud gently emphasized her high bust and smooth hips. The tripod with test tubes rang in rhythm with her movements.

Against that, the otherworldly green, slightly slanted eyes burned.

The general stared, stunned by the spectacle, bewitched.

And the woman stopped just short of him by a couple of meters and greeted him cheerfully:

“Good evening…”

Her voice was low, purring… mesmerizing. Savin looked into the green eyes, and the floor swayed beneath his feet…

“Excuse me,” the woman calmly continued to purr, “did you get lost?”

Savin opened his mouth to say something… and couldn’t.

The woman smiled, then, pausing a little and softly clinking the tripod with the bloody test tubes, asked:

“Excuse me… What’s your blood type?”