For a moment, there was nothing but silence, not interrupted even by Arca's own breathing.
"If you want to, signore Santangelo. You already protected me once," Irmilla replied.
It should've been more than enough. But of course… it wasn't.
'I should've become a monk,' Arca thought bitterly. 'Studied the theory of magic instead of combat training, read holy scriptures and never, ever met creatures that are called w… vampires.'
***
Valerian's workshop hid in the slums on the outskirts of the town. If Irmilla wasn't showing the way, Arca would've never believed that someone could conduct research in a stinky place like that.
But a hovel Irmilla brought him to, looked much better on the inside than from the outside. Just a normal living space with two rows of glaringly empty bookshelves, writing utensils scattered on the floor, and a body slumped on the singular chair.