On a misty night departing Seattle, a tiny rubber duck named Vlad bobbed quietly in a cruise ship’s grand pool, his glossy fangs glinting under the deck lights. Unlike the other cheerful bath toys in the gift shop, Vlad only came alive after sunset, drifting silently through the ship’s corridors in search of something warmer than seawater. As the vessel glided past icy Alaskan fjords, he discovered the joy of sipping tomato juice from unattended room service trays—close enough to blood to satisfy his peculiar cravings. One evening, a curious child spotted him staring out at the moon and whispered, “You’re not like the others, are you?” Vlad only smiled, sinking back into the shadows as the ship turned south, carrying his secret safely home.