Brian returns the business card to its owner's hands.
The card is severely worn. The bullet hole and scratches almost entirely obscure its original appearance.
Brian: I've always wanted to thank you in person, Ms. Winnifred. Whether you remember me or not, your business card saved my life.
Brian: I just never imagined I'd meet you here like this.
Winnifred: Oh ...
Brian returns the business card to its owner's hands.
She waves her hand dismissively and places the card on the table.
Winnifred: So it's you. What a surprise.
Clearly, perfunctory pleasantries cannot dampen Brian's enthusiasm.
Brian: Yes! I never imagined that after all these years, you would look exactly the same as I remembered! Now I'm all the more certain.
Brian: You must be a vampire, or at least, one-eighth of your blood is vampiric!
Brian: It aligns perfectly with my script. My goal is to lift the veil of mystery hanging over vampires—to expose those false legends and rumors.
He becomes more excited as he speaks, scribbling in his notebook.
Winnifred: ...
Brian: Just think about it, Ms. Winnifred. Don't you want to finally change the public's misconceptions about vampires?
Brian: At least, at least we can show the world a more beautiful, more real image.
Winnifred shakes her head and reclines on the fashionable Persian sofa.
Winnifred: Well, Mr. Brian, how are you going to do that?
Brian: With a film!
Brian: A film, of course! I'm planning to make one about vampires. The only thing is that no one's willing to invest in it, and I haven't finished the script yet.
Brian: But I believe that as long as you're willing to be the leading lady, everything will fall into place!
Brian: Maybe we could start with a personal documentary! You know, investigating your lineage and family—the untold past of vampires.
Brian: That would surely catch the investors' attention! It's the perfect opportunity to tap into a new market!
Winnifred: I'd say your idea has legs, Mr. Brian.
Brian: ...!
Winnifred: But I'm afraid I'm not interested.
It's as if cold water has been splashed on Brian's face.
Brian: Why?
Winnifred: I don't care about movies. Sitting still for two or three hours is more like a subtle punishment than a pleasure. Besides, staring at a screen for such a long time robs our eyes of their brightness.
Winnifred: That's the kind of damage no amount of cosmetics can save.
Brian: So what kind of film DO you want from us?
Winnifred: Ugh ...
Winnifred: A talk show like The Night Show would be great. No one needs to go anywhere. We can all just relax on the sofa, chat about fashionable, superficial things, and laugh without a care in the world.
Winnifred: We could also adopt a theme that captures life's little fragments, then pieces them back together. Yes, that would be interesting.
She stretches languidly, looking expectantly at the cameraman before her.
Winnifred: Mr. Danny promised me just that. What was it ... "a comfortable atmosphere, simple requirements, and no need to lift a finger" ...
Brian sets down his notebook, sighing in resignation.
Winnifred nods contentedly. She eyes the wall clock.
Quarter past three.
Winnifred: Excellent. We'll get started shortly. The client I have scheduled for this afternoon is due any moment now. We should be able to glean some free, authentic material!
Brian: As you wish, ma'am.
Brian is adept with the camera and is serious about capturing every shot.
They successfully film Winnifred's leisurely afternoon. Just as she had hoped.
Afternoon tea, strolls in the garden, sunbathing ...
There is no doubt that Winnifred is pleased with them.
*knock, knock, knock*
This knocking seems rougher than usual.
Madison: Winnifred! Winnifred!
Madison: Open up! I know you're in there!
Winnifred: Look, friends. It seems we have another ill-mannered customer.
She faces the camera, offering a more polite smile than usual.
Winnifred: Regardless, the customer always comes first.
She steps forward and opens the door.
Winnifred: Welcome, Mr. Madison! My, it's been a long time since we last met, hasn't it? What a nostalgic reunion this is!
Madison: We saw each other just last month, Ms. Winnifred.
His voice is accented with hints of barely-repressed anger.
Madison: You sold me that "memory lamp," saying it could faithfully record all it illuminates.
Madison: But in actual fact ...
He flips the switch. The lamp casts a warm yellow light.
Madison: But in actual fact ...
Winnifred: Yes, just like this!
Winnifred: Just imagine: you'll be able to eternally cherish the warmest, most beautiful scenes of your entire family under this very light.
Winnifred: Just think—no more worrying about maintaining picture frames or power outages. All you need is a little bit of arcane energy, and you can preserve everything! Even their voices!
Winnifred: Oh, what a joyous scene! Just thinking about it brings a tear to the eye.
Winnifred: This "memory lamp" is a one-of-a-kind piece—snag it now for the low price of—
*click*
He turns off the lamp.
Winnifred: Well, it's running smoothly, and the image is clear enough. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it, no?
Winnifred: It certainly meets the standards of my other goods. Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Madison!
Madison: That's precisely the issue!
Madison: When you were selling me the lamp, it recorded our little test run perfectly. But after I took it home, no matter how many adjustments I made—even after I busted its bulb—the image didn't change one iota!
Winnifred: And is there something wrong with that, Mr. Madison?
She tilts her head, appearing somewhat puzzled.
Winnifred: Just as I advertised, "it can faithfully record all it illuminates" ...
Winnifred: Poor little lamp. This is the reward you get for working hard and doing your job to the letter.
She runs her fingers across the scratches on the lamp's surface and sighs deeply.
Winnifred: Weren't you the one who asked for a preview of how the lamp worked?
Madison: Th-That's right ...
Winnifred: Ah ... My heart was just as heavy as yours in that moment. What a shame that you couldn't just trust the quality of my product without having to use up its power on a demonstration.
Madison: You!
Madison: You charlatan! ... You ... wily capitalist!
His fists clench as his face flushes with anger.
Winnifred: Our transaction was entirely above board, as you well know. Besides, getting rough now would only land you in a heap of legal trouble.
She points amiably at the camera documenting the entire affair.
Madison: ...
Winnifred: Of course, if you so desire, I do offer a buy-back service at a tenth of the original price.
The man storms out, slamming the door behind him.
Winnifred: Ah, how disappointing.
Upon the exit of this guest, the day's filming ends as scheduled.
Brian: That's a wrap.
Winnifred: You're looking a little down, Mr. Brian.
Brian: Sorry, Ms. Winnifred. I was just wondering if this scene would fit in your documentary. It was quite a negative encounter.
Winnifred: Heh-heh, there's no need to worry about that.
Winnifred: I think it possesses a certain comedic quality, don't you ...? It reminds me of an episode of The Night Show, which you just have to watch, by the way.
Winnifred: Just be careful you don't bust a gut laughing!
Brian: ...
Brian: By that point, I had to admit that Ms. Winnifred wasn't the vampire I'd imagined.
Brian: In fact, our brief, dreamlike encounters hadn't allowed me to truly understand her.
Brian: But even then, I clung to my belief, hoping in vain to find what I so desperately wanted to be true.
Brian: I continued to pour my heart into the documentary, the vessel of my vampiric passion.