2 - The Count's servant..

I said enthusiastically:

"But we are both men of science, and we both know that what is not seen, heard, smelled, or understood simply does not exist."

Dr. Richard smiled confidently, then walked to a corner of the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thick envelope. He handed it to me and said:

"Read these papers before you talk about science..."

Before I could respond, Mrs. Cummings entered with a cheerful face. In my best attempt at elegant English, I thanked her for the dinner. We then started talking about the weather, and I praised their house, expressing my admiration for the painting of the Last Supper hanging on the wall. She began to explain the story behind the painting and the looks of astonishment on the disciples' faces.

"...and do you know the secret behind Westerners' superstition about spilling salt on the table?"

I shook my head, admitting my ignorance. She said:

"Because Judas, the traitor, is depicted in the painting with spilled salt in front of him... Do you see his face? It's a face that bears all the sins of mankind. He is bound to the devil but surrenders to it, finding no other way..."

At that moment, I was drawn into the world of the painting, but I was also thinking about the long journey back to my warm hotel bed and the envelope I was carrying.

When I returned to the hotel, I stretched out on the bed and opened the envelope Dr. Richard had given me. It was filled with old papers and photographs. One picture showed a strange ancient palace, another a sealed marble coffin, and yet another of something I couldn't quite make out. There was also an oil painting of a tall, bearded man.

Among the papers was a yellowed, worn sheet with a map drawn in black ink of an unknown palace, its catacombs labeled with Slavic names I couldn't even read. So many riddles...

Finally, there was a note in English from Dr. Richard:

"We searched for months in the crypts of Count Dracula's palace in Transylvania, which the authorities have banned tourists from visiting due to its risk of collapse. Eventually, we found the attached map, which led us to the coffins of the Count's family in an old crypt filled with dust and bats. We opened all the coffins until we found the Count's mummy. On its chest was an ivory box containing a letter written by the Count's servant for future generations:

'I write this letter to warn those who come after me of a terrible danger. The devil has chosen this wretched region. Dracula is the first vampire born in this land. My master, the Count, was known among the peasants for his cruelty, tyranny, and his use of mercenaries to enforce his rule. This earned him the name 'the Devil' or 'Dracula.' Every evening, the Count began drinking a cursed mixture of pig's blood, wine, and spices, claiming it restored his youth. He delved into black magic, growing increasingly isolated and strange. His face elongated, his voice took on the tone of a wolf's howl on moonlit nights, and he began venturing out at dusk, returning at dawn, and secluding himself for hours in the palace basement. In truth, he no longer ate.

In the books of magic, I found an explanation for his condition. This mixture he drinks leads to immortality in the most hideous way—it turns its addicts into human bats that feed on human blood at night, sleep in coffins during the day, and die if exposed to sunlight.

I had to know more. The next morning, I gathered my courage and went down to the basement where his family's coffins lay. The stench of rot filled the air, and mice scurried freely. In a marble coffin, I found what I was looking for (this part of the manuscript is unclear). He was not breathing. His face was as pale as death, with drops of blood still fresh on his lips, and his eyes were open, staring at nothing.

I approached, gathered my courage, and opened his lips. Inside, I found two rows of sharp teeth, like those of a wild beast. An unknown terror, paralyzing my mind, overcame me. I ran in panic, consumed by one thought: escape. I didn't know where, and in my haste, I forgot to close the coffin.

The Count had become a vampire, a burden to himself and others. The villagers were right to draw crosses when passing the palace. This was the secret behind the old beggar's body found near the palace, lying on the grass with two red holes in his neck. This was why the Count removed the white curtains and icons, and why howling shook the palace on moonlit nights. This was why... and this was why.

I returned to the magic books. The vampire is a nightmare, and it is my duty to find a cure, especially since he has not yet drunk my blood—perhaps because he doesn't need it. Killing vampires is easy. They die from any religious symbol. They are symbolic creatures; their existence is a symbol, and their death is achieved through symbols. Light, the color white, silver, and holy books can all kill them. But the most effective method is a wooden stake driven through their chest, followed by a prayer for the dead. The magic books warn that just as the vampire is a symbol, so too is its death. It returns to life once every hundred years to spread terror and death, only to be killed by an untainted human...

Here, I felt something unusual in the room. I looked up and found Count Dracula standing over me, blocking the door, his yellow teeth bared in a terrifying smile. Night had fallen without my realizing it, and when he rose, he found the coffin lid open. I understood then.

I looked at him in panic. His face no longer resembled the one I knew. His terrible fangs, his pale, wrinkled skin, the smell of sulfur—all described in the magic books—were there. He moved in front of the mirror, and I saw no reflection. Even the candle cast no shadow of him on the wall.

I screamed, 'Oh God, save me!' He flinched and stepped back for a moment. I ran to the door as I had never run in my life, locked it, and collapsed on the bed. The last thing I saw was the door handle turning, but the door remained closed.

Yes, the Count has become the devil's successor on earth. He is sick, and he knows it. I have decided to end his suffering. I will kill him today. The magic books say he will die at the hands of an untainted man. I am that man—the judge, the prosecutor, and the executioner. I will strike him with a silver dagger, a stake, and, above all, my faith.

If I fail and meet my death, let whoever finds this letter know what I have learned. Let them wait for the Count's return every hundred years, and may the righteous among us triumph.

The Count's servant, Giuseppe Michael, in the year of our Lord 1559.'

After the letter, I found a small note in Dr. Richard's handwriting: 'They found the Count's mummy with this warning on its chest, meaning the servant succeeded in his mission.'

I turned off the lamp and closed my eyes to rest in the darkness. So, this is the nonsense that occupies the mind of a great scientist? All this foolish talk about Indians, Spartans, and Chinese mummies... Nonsense. I amused myself by trying to imagine the form of evil in the world—a red-eyed ogre, an octopus with six arms—but I couldn't. For some reason, the image of Judas's face in Da Vinci's painting wouldn't leave my mind—the miserable, sinful look of a man who could only sin. I didn't know how or when, but I sank into a deep sleep.