As night fell over the village, Lara remained in the library, surrounded by towering shelves and thousands of stories preserved within ancient books. The silence of the place felt almost sacred, broken only by the soft rustle of turning pages and the distant echo of her own thoughts. After hours of meticulous searching, she finally found the book she was looking for, a volume bound in aged leather, dedicated exclusively to vampiric myths and the ancestral ways to defeat them.
To Lara’s eyes, the pages seemed to whisper forbidden secrets. One chapter in particular detailed rituals, weapons, and amulets to repel vampires, from daggers forged from ash wood to garlic, used to drive these creatures away. The idea took shape in the young woman’s determined mind: if the man in the manor truly was a vampire, she would prove it.
Determined, Lara left the library with the book and headed to the village shops, where she bought a small dagger and some cloves of garlic, feeling the weight of these objects both physically and emotionally. The walk to the manor took place under the dark night, the cool air wrapping around her as she passed through the silent streets, where only the rustling leaves and her own breathing could be heard. With every step, her heart beat faster, caught between expectation and fear.
When she reached the manor gate, something surprised her: this time, it was closed, a physical barrier that had not been there the previous night. Without hesitation, Lara climbed the high wall; she had been used to doing that since she was a child, whether playing with the other kids or even running away from her father on his worst days. Carefully, she climbed over to enter the mysterious garden, but the effort did not come without consequences. As she reached the top of the wall and prepared to climb down the other side, she lost her balance and hit the ground hard, twisting her ankle while her knee scraped against the rough stone. A cry of pain escaped her, echoing throughout the manor.
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The sound immediately awakened the mysterious man, who suddenly appeared, startled by the crash coming from his garden. Lara, distressed and trembling, stood up as fast as she could. Holding the book and the objects tightly, she began the ritual described there: she cut the palm of her hand with the dagger’s blade so that the blood would flow, then crushed the garlic cloves into that fresh blood.
She expected a reaction—pain, disgust, retreat—because vampires are sensitive to garlic and human blood. But, to her astonishment, the stranger remained utterly unfazed. He crossed his arms, looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and irony.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his expression torn between shock and amusement. “Why on earth did you cut your hand, crush that garlic, and above all, what are you doing in my house again?”
Lara was speechless, the shock plain on her face. She only managed to whisper:
“But… you didn’t feel anything? From what I just did?”
The man laughed softly, a sound that blended amusement and patience.
“No, I didn’t feel anything. I even wonder if I was supposed to feel something,” he replied, his voice tinged with mockery. “Whatever you’re doing looks like complete nonsense to me.”
Lara felt her heart race in a confusing mix of relief and unease. If he was not a vampire, then why did the whole village call him one? What secret did that man hold to inspire such fear and mystery? The puzzle was only just beginning to take shape.
