The owner of the inn had a last check on the horses, at the doors that took them to the road, in a morning which the grey sky was no news. They were already mounted and the baggage was all in place. The old man got closer, putting his hand on the horse's neck, and talked to Trevor on top of it:

"Remember it?"

"Yes, sir," he looked down.

"So, repeat it."

"Leaving the horses in the stable on the north entrance… To the gentleman with a blonde mustache."

"And what else, son?"

"The woman who speaks too quietly or their skinny son can answer the door too," Trevor scratched his head.

"And…?"

"No taking the horses off road."

"Good, very good," the old man laughed, "Don't think that, because I have just an eye, that I don't have both ears. I have ears everywhere, I sure do. You'd better do what I told you, or it won't be easy on ye."

"I can imagine it, sir," he also laughed and petted the horse's mane, "They're really well cared."

"It's my younger boy's work. The boy's a gem. Now, have a good trip, my friends."

Trevor and Sypha bid farewell to the old man with a handwave, and Alucard just looked back with a head nod. The fourth day on the road followed with no interruptions; in the fifth day, it was cold to chill the spine, but the threat of rain did not come to be. Before he went to sleep, Trevor looked at the horses and decided to throw one of the blankets on them, hugging Sypha as much as he could. In the morning of the sixth day, when the sky quit rehearsing and sent them a drizzle, was the day they saw Ploiesti appear in the horizon.

The walls of the city were made of old stone, and the transit at the gates was of more agitation than all of Sohodol. They had to dodge more than a crammed carriage and more than a group of pedestrians before they could enter. The two who rode horses got off of them to stretch their legs and pulled them gently by the reins. Sypha looked around and commented:

"It must be a wonderful city in the summer. Check out these trees."

"It's even more beautiful in the spring, ma'am," there was the voice of a boy, "Will you buy an apple? The horses like them."

They looked for who called her and found a boy sitting on a stool, under a short tree and in front of an old house, with a basket full of apples on his lap and another on the ground. Sypha picked some from the basket and ended up getting her change out of her pocket, buying five apples she shared equally among horses and humans.

"And what else can we find here?" She asked the boy.

"Is it your first time here? Go to the Tree in the market square. It is orange now, it's an oak and a beautiful sight. They set up the market there, of course, but not today, it's a holy day. They will set it up tomorrow, if there's no rain."

Trevor's horse meddled in the sight of apples, and he gave half of his own to it, with a pet on the neck. He looked at the sky. If there's no rain? He smirked. The drizzle still fell over them. He spoke to the seller:

"Is the stable around here?"

"Yes, sir. Just turn that one corner," the boy pointed at a narrow path, "But maybe they won't answer."

"Why?" Trevor frowned.

"The owner's daughter," the boy whispered, "They say she's cursed."

They headed to the alley and identified the stable, on a corner with less movement. Trevor knocked on the door and who answered was said gentleman with a blonde mustache, with a deep sight and a tired appearance.

"Good morning," he looked at the animals, "Where are you coming from?"

"Sohodol, in the North, sir," Actually, from a sinister castle near there. Trevor laughed up his sleeve, "We've heard from Ploiesti even there."

"They're the horses of the inn, right? They'll be delivered."

He changed subjects. The story about his daughter must be true. They handled him the reins and followed the man, even if he did not call them. He won't deny the stable roof to three travellers in the rain. They also gave him the fee for returning the horses. The owner said them a "please come back" with no real wish for them to do it. I gotta be quick. Come on, have an idea.

"You know, sir," started Trevor, "Can you make us a discount? I have experience with horses. The other two don't, but they're strong and healthy and do what they're told."

Sypha and Alucard looked at each other and said nothing. The owner gave them a good stare and sighed again:

"I'm really busy today. Let's see how you carry it out. If you're lying, I demand that you leave us alone."

"I'm not lying, sir. You'll see."

The rest of the day, until sunset, was spent taking care of manes, hoofs, hay, water, cleaning, mounts of leaves, and drips on the roof, under Trevor's instructions, who was restless all the time, and the owner's. Trevor himself, in the end of the working hours, let himself fall on the floor, supporting himself on a pillar, with a cup of water for which he desired to have a prophet's power. He commented:

"Let's say I missed doing this."

"I think you should go back to it," the owner approached him from his back, "You are skilled with it, son. Where did you learn it?"

"At home. My family had horses. But we lost everything."

"And where are you from?"

The excuse took him a while:

"Transylvania, sir. People hardly know us in these parts."

"I see," the man looked at any point in space and did not seem to notice his lie, "I'm very thankful for your work. I feel like I should repay you, to be honest."

"I won't refuse a hot soup and a bit of chat," Trevor stretched.

"Please, come in. Let's leave this drizzle."

The house surprised them with more space than they expected. It did not resemble in the slightest the tight living spaces most of the people had. The owner's tiny wife showed up with her modest step to see what was going on, an Trevor heard him ask quietly for her to serve them food. As the soup was just warm enough, flavorful and made of good ingredients, Alucard inquired the owner:

"What's going around the city, sir? Much is heard outside it, but we don't know how much of them are rumours."

"You know it already, then. The curse the Devil put upon us," the man shook his head, "It's the Devil's work, it can only be.

"Why do you say that, sir?" Alucard went on.

The man took a while to answer:

"Our… Our girl," he sighed, "She roams the house when asleep. When she's awake, she won't leave her bedroom. She says someone's after her. We watched the house, me and my son, who's in Bucharest. There's no one. She's…"

Crazy? Trevor rested his hand on his chin and tried:

"Don't you think something happened to her? Something she haven't told you."

"Nothing. She's a good girl. She won't leave without telling us, she never raises her voice to us, she'll go to church with us."

"Didn't she do anything out of the usual these last days?" Trevor asked.

The man thought for a bit:

"There's a traveling troupe in the city. But we also saw it, me and the whole family, and we're… We're fine, the rest of us."

"When is their next presentation?" Alucard let his bowl on the table, "We've heard today is a holy day, so…"

"Today, if there's no rain, in the Tree."

The owner's wife heard the conversation from the door that took one to the rest of the house and got closer from her husband's back, whispering:

"I'll go see how's Katrina."

The man nodded and went back to look at the table:

"Please, eat some more. If so you wish."

As Trevor stood up and stepped forward towards the stove, they heard a scream. It came from another part of the house and was followed with the gentle voice of the owner's wife. There was more despair and the sound of things being thrown on a wall. The four kept quiet until the commotion ceased, Trevor feeling a shiver down his spine. He quietly filled his bowl and went back to the bench, the whole table with a grief mood.

"Sir," said Alucard, "What I'm going to say might sound strange, but the three of us travel to take care of situations like this."

What? Trevor almost choked on the soup. He looked briefly to Sypha, who had the same face. Who are you and what did you do to the guy from the beginning of the week? None of both dared to interrupt him. The man stared at Alucard with something between hopelessness and judgment. And one can't blame him for that. Alucard went on:

"The world went through many twists since the attacks of the unexplainable, and I believe we can help your daughter."

Unexplainable, my ass. Trevor kept quiet, and the man said:

"I hope you're not lying, fellow."

"I'm not. We're not. We are spending the week in the city and we'll find out what this curse is about," Alucard took a deep breath, "Do you know where can we stay?"

"There are good taverns around the Tree. Go to the market square in the center and you'll find it."

"Thanks a lot, sir," he got up, calling Trevor and Sypha, "Let's go, before it is too late. May God look after this home."

Trevor swallowed up a snort when hearing him speak of religion. But, well, it was a good take.

The Tree was an old, leafy oak, with his top orange from the season. Its leaves and acorns covered a good portion of the square, and a downpour accompanied of a gale were sure to drop more of them. It's a shame this is a deluge. I'd love to sit under it and read. Sypha ran forward, her hood over her head, until they docked in a fine-looking tavern. They opened the door, making a torrent of water enter the place and startle both customers and the waitstaff. A woman who was older than the three, with a lap infant in her arms, got closer to ask if they looked for bedrooms.

"We have a free one, but it has a double bed. We can always put some straw on the floor, if you want."

"Is that a problem?" Sypha looked at the other two, who were too busy twisting their clothes to answer, "I think it's fine, ma'am."

"I'll ask my husband to get the key. Just let him finish wait that table."

The baby started grumbling, and the woman nursed him to sleep. Sypha complimented:

"It's a beautiful child. What's their name?"

"Thanks, miss. We didn't choose it yet. I thought of giving her my name, I'm Alizia, but it's also my mother's name…" She waved to a man on the other side of the room, and he came closer, "Dear, go get the key of the remaining room. These three are staying."

"Three?" he scratched his head, "Well… Sure. Just a second."

They climbed up the stairs, the man showed up with the key and a straw mount under an arm. He set up the improvised bed on the floor while he cordially asked where did they come from and what were they doing in the city. Trevor was evasive, making up a story about a problem with an inheritance and asked for a drink.

"I can bring water to the room, sir," the owner said, "We do not allow beer or otherwise upstairs."

"Whatever. I'm not refusing it."

Him and Sypha jumped onto bed after the man left, and Alucard seemed thoughtful on doing the same or laying down on the straw, choosing the latter, giving up shortly after, and sitting on the edge of the mattress. After a lazy moment, Sypha raised from the bed, beginning:

"Well. What do you think this curse is about, if we can call it like that? It doesn't look like a sickness to me."

"It really doesn't," Alucard agreed, "Please, get your notes."

She found the addled book in the baggage, opened it on the page, and read again:

"Curse of Ploiesti's victims - Dates - Symptoms - Cause of death - Circumstances - Coincidences - Relations they had," she sat again, "Right now, we've heard of the burglar and of Katrina. We know it's something of the last few weeks, maybe the last month. The strange behaviors begin in their sleep, and then evolve to afflict the victim when awake."

"Also, they involve paranoia, chase craze, maybe hallucinations," said Alucard.

"Nightmares?" Trevor asked.

"It's possible," Alucard looked lost in thought, "The best place to investigate it might be the hospital. There has to be one, in a city this size."

"Let's look for it tomorrow," Sypha put her hand around her ear, "Listen. I think we're isolated."

Alucard stood up and opened the window to check the rain. The wind opened it wide and threw a gush of water on his face.

"Terrible idea," he closed it again, "But you're right."

"I have a more trivial question," Sypha raised a finger, "What time are we having dinner?"

"Suit yourselves if you wanna go there. I'm dead tired," Trevor spread himself on the bed.

"You can't drink upstairs, but they said nothing about eating. I'll bring you something," she caressed his forehead.

"I'm dead tired now. Later's another story."

I'll give you leeway, but just because you worked your ass off. She kissed his cheek, got some provisions, and climbed down the stairs, leaving the door unlocked. Alucard joined her.

The saloon was calm for an end of a holy day. It must be the rain… Or their prices. Looking around, both the customers and the place were of much higher standard comparing it to the modest tavern where Isobel worked. The owners sat on a corner, on tall stools, with a big closed box at their feet, and talked quietly. A well-dressed waiter stood by to get their requests.

"What do you suggest?" asked Sypha?

"The cider is one of the things that make the house famous, ma'am."

"So, bring me one, please."

"Two of them, actually," Alucard said.

When the mugs arrived, each of them found out the sugary flavor. It's good to get the unwary drunk. They looked to the owners, still in the same place, and she questioned:

"What are they doing?"

"I don't know either. Let's wait for it," he took a long sip, "What a pleasant place."

"Just don't go over the top."

"I'm not that inexperienced with alcohol. I just lack the habit."

"Perhaps I have a habit out of having to control other people's drinking," she laughed and lost some time observing him, "How are you today?"

Alucard took a while to answer her, lost in some loop of thought:

"Sort of… Confused. I was about to say 'indecisive', but it's not quite the term."

"Confused about what?"

"It's a confusion that seems to me that it has more of an internal than an external source. It's hard to understand, and even harder to explain."

"Then, why don't you try?"

"It has to do with what I'm doing, with what I should do. Not just about this present moment, it's a more general concern. What I am, and what I should be."

From the corner of the eye, Sypha noticed the man of the couple of owners open the box to get a lute from it and start tuning it.

"They're musicians," Alucard commented with a hint of a smile.

"It makes sense now that they're there. Should I call the sleeping beauty upstairs?"

"If you think you can do it," he laughed.

"Wait here."

His skin burned like fire. He struggled among the flames, running and running, trying to leave the corridors behind. In each new turn, they continued, all the same, all infinite. Someone screamed for him. Whose was that voice? One of his sisters'? His mother's, perhaps? The ceiling collapsed in front of him, also kindling, very short of falling on top of himself. As he looked up, he saw the starry sky, just the same as that one night. There was no roof anymore, the walls were high, he looked around and saw descending spiral stairs. Everything burned, everything until the last flag. He stepped backwards, tripped, and went down that endless fall.

Someone still called for him. He was breathless… Was he crying? Someone held out a hand in the dark and he grabbed onto it, holding on that arm without a body. He was hanging between the abyss of the fall and that hand of nobody, so far deep into the void that the Moon was nothing but a minuscule dot in the sky. His arm hurt more and more, weakening, almost giving in. Other hands appeared and held him from under his arms, while the walls crumbled down and the burning stones fell beside him like crumbs. All the hands disappeared, and he fell again.

"Trevor!"

He opened his eyes. Sypha leaned over him, and he felt a drop onto his face. He was breathing through his mouth, panting, and his head was drenched in sweat. She sat by his side and he got up, sitting as well; slowly, as his strength failed him. Sypha hugged him so tight, like she had not seen him for long.

"For a moment, I…," she sobbed, "I thought it was that curse. You wouldn't wake up."

He corresponded the hug, also slowly, and felt his heart decelerate. Thank you.

"No. It was just another one of those," he breathed in deep, "It happens when you're not here with me."

He held her closer and let out a tear or two. Sypha said nothing.

"I'm becoming spoiled with you around," he smiled.

The feeling of that dream did not look like it would leave any time soon. It's one of those you carry for a while after you wake up.

"It's much harder when you're not here," he whispered.

"Sorry," she had a crying voice.

"Shh, don't give me that. It's been happening for so long now."

They went silent, holding onto one another, until he pulled her in for a kiss, that lasted how long it needed to last for him to wake up. He asked, their faces still close:

"Why did you come here?"

"I came to call you. There's going to be a presentation down there, the tavern keepers. They brought a lute."

"Really?"

"Come and see," Sypha stood up and pulled him by a hand.

They cleaned their faces on a hurry and climbed down the stairs, finding Alucard in the same table, his chin on his hand. Sypha called him:

"How are things here?"

"Not very agitated. They were still tuning."

Trevor saw a dish on the table with two golden chicken thighs and asked for one of them; Alucard gave him a stinky eye, but gave in, and all of them sat down. The tavern, that was already dark due to the stormy weather, welcomed the nightfall, and the female keeper got up to light up the torches in the fireplace. She roamed the place wearing a long, floating dress, and a side braided hair. They're not clothes you see anyone from the townspeople wear. He glanced at Sypha and tried to imagine her in that outfit, half-smiling. It doesn't match her much.

When the woman finally was back to her stool, the whole room went quiet. The lute began its melody, as slow as a lament, and the female keeper's voice was the same, following like that for two stanzas until it exploded in a chorus full of missing, longing, and regret. The duo continued to toy with the emotions of the crowd, to the point not even the single people felt so single. The next song was a cheerful ballad that people used to dance to, and they headed to more light-spirited songs, as well as working songs, love and unrequited love songs, pieces of grief, of loss, and of passion. The audience, singing along the majority of the concert, was in a little more than half of the tables, and the waitstaff was still crazed. Trevor himself lost track of the cider mugs very quickly, and none of the other two on his table bothered him about it, as they did the same. The more mugs he drank, the louder he wanted to sing. Sypha was belting out quite well, and Alucard only whispered a verse or two.

As they seemed to finish the concert, the woman of the couple announced:

"To the guests, for the last one of the night. Someone?"

The only thing that was head was the murmur of the conversation coming back, and no one volunteered. The couple looked at each other, and the male keeper pointed with his free hand, holding onto the lute with the other:

"Him, right there, dear. He was putting on a show. Would you like to come?"

Trevor took a while to notice they were indeed talking to him. He asked:

"Is it me?"

"Yes, sir!," the man answered.

"I'm not going on my own," he stood up.

Alucard opened his mouth to object the embarrassment when Trevor pulled Sypha by a hand.

"Are you coming with me?" he asked her.

"If you're going, I'm going," she stuttered.

The crowd cheered a little. They walked to the spot where there were the stools for the concert. The male tavern keeper questioned them about duets, from song to song, until they found one that everyone knew how to execute, a fun piece of rivals that was successful anywhere. Trevor started his part of the melody and Sypha followed his guidance, each one accomplishing their part of the challenge the song offered, the best way they could in that state of intoxication. In the highest note of the song, they surprised everyone, including themselves, singing it in time, what raised a previous ovation. They interacted surrounding each other and staring at each other, holding hands and splitting apart, Sypha avoiding a trip or another and Trevor being very used to that state. As they finished, they received a round of applause and paid drinks. They sat by the table again while the keepers put away the lute. For a cursed city, I kind of like this place.

The rain did not stop pouring on the roof and the window, the wind carrying it towards their bedroom. Trevor and Sypha throwed their own bodies on the bed, not worrying in the slightest to light up any candles. They must be exhausted. Alucard sat on the chair, straightening his aching back and neck from the day of work.

"You see, huh?" Trevor half talked to himself, and half to the other two, "How we started this week and where we ended it up."

"You two have fine voices. I didn't imagine it," complimented Alucard.

"Thanks. And you have a fine quietness, but I already knew that."

"I think I'd rather you quiet as well," Alucard snorted.

He left them alone and drove his attention to the table. He spent quite some time looking at the table top, listening to the rainfall, until he decided to light up a candle. I won't disturb them much with it. He sighed and looked for his journal in the baggage. In that very table, maybe someone had opened books, maps, and documents. But this is all that I have. He gave himself a break to eat the apple bought in the morning, set up his quill, then began.

"I find myself back to these private pages. I can hear the rain outside, and nothing else. It's like I'm the only awake being on this Earth, or, perhaps, the only living being. Is that a wish? Is that something to envy? I don't know. I think not.

It's been more than a week we're not in the castle anymore. Five of these days were fully spent on the road, that was calm, therefore, of little relevance. Actually, Trevor's forgiveness and apologies were relevant, but I can't break the habit. I was very rude to him, who deserved none of my punches. I'm getting more familiar with alcohol with his blessing, and it's been benign so far. I can understand him in that matter now. It's easy to obtain and it can be dirt cheap; in a lower dosage, it's a ray of sun on one's day. However, it can make the best man become foolish, violent, or useless, and there lives the danger of it. I believe Trevor is a lucky man.

Today was a good day for me, despite the bad circumstances. We've heard of a young woman stricken by the curse of Ploiesti. Her name's Katrina, and she's the daughter of the stable where we left the rented horses. Talking about it, they're fascinating animals, even though the ones we used were not of the best blood; for sure, they were well treated. We didn't come to see the girl, though. They only told us about her, and we heard her cries. She's her parents' treasure. They're desperate. I'll do what's possible and what's not for her not to die a miserable death in her sleep, fearful and defenseless of whatever preys on her. If I know my companions, they think like I do.

Amongst other things, there was Trevor and Sypha's performance. They were invited to sing with the tavern keepers, which I don't know it it was an honor, or just a well thought strategy. It was revigorating not to be walking or solving problems for a while. It was also good to watch them having some fun, even if caught by surprise.

As tiring as it is to be on the road, there's always some time to spare, like now, in which I can't sleep to save my life. The last time I considered writing and wasn't very inspired to do it, I promised Sypha I'd show her what I've been writing here, but I didn't do it. When I was about to touch the subject, I had no chance anymore. Some coincidences are…"

He looked back. Sypha was sitting on the bed. He heard her moving; he just did not think she would wake up. She asked:

"Are you sleepless, too?"

"I am."

Only the rain sounded for a while.

"Am I disturbing you?" she yawned.

"No. It's always a good time."

He stood up with his apple in hand, eating it with no hurry. When he finished it, he invited her:

"I'd like to watch the rainfall from the glass panel there is in this floor. Want to join me?" he smiled, "I understand if you don't want to."

"I'll go, sure."

He saw her gently calling Trevor and warning him she would leave. He muttered something as "alright". Why does she bother with that? He was sleeping like a log. Sypha got up, wrapped up in one of the blankets, and walked out of the door he opened.

They walked a light step on the corridor to avoid making sound in the other rooms. It was colder outside the bedroom. In the saloon down there, the lights were already out and the customers found their way to go home under that downpour outside.

"Behold the Wallachian weather in all of its glory."

"I miss a bit of sunlight," she turned her head to look at him, "Aren't you cold?"

"No."

"I see."

Sypha got closer of the transparent, colorless glass panel, shaped like a flower with six petals, and rested her hand on it. The glass blurred with her touch. She looked both ways, just to be sure, and lit up a flame with the other hand.

"Done," she removed her hand from the glass, "Now, we see."

"And we warm up a bit."

There was only silence for a while.

"Wait, did you just come to see the rainfall?" She frowned.

"Yes. I mean, no," he laughed, as if he felt lighter, "I want to talk, too, but we watch the rain, if you don't want to."

She also giggled, but quietly:

"You don't need to beat around the bush like this. Wanna talk about the curse?"

"I'd rather believe today is a holy day. We don't work, that is."

"And we did work, the whole afternoon," she shrugged, "Are you tired?"

"No," he sighed, "Just lonely."

Sypha laughed again, but louder, as loud as it was allowed in that dead silence of the closed tavern.

"So, you're copying me?" She opened way under the blanket with an arm, inviting him, "There's room for two under this cozy old blanket."

Alucard stepped sideways and got closer, pulling the edge of the fabric over his opposite shoulder. Where have I seen it before? He smiled alone, remembering the library.

"Thank you," he cleaned his throat, "But I wasn't making an impression of you."

"And why do you feel lonely?"

Alucard looked up, then to the floor. How to answer that question? He tried:

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Wherever you think it's better."

Is there a "better" in this case? He chose to begin from the outside, rather than inside:

"Have you ever noticed there are few of my kind?" He gesticulated with a hand, "Half-vampires, I mean. Most of them are a fruit of violence. I'm one of the few who was born out of love. You were with me when I…When I respected my mother's last wish. I consider myself on her side, if one talks about History. But what if, and just if, I had aligned myself with my father, would I be wrong?"

"Probably."

"A dozen of vampires from the whole world were with him… And I wasn't. What am I?"

"Is it a riddle?" She had a clueless face.

"It's a question."

Sypha thought and thought, with her fireless hand on her chin. She answered:

"You're yourself."

"So, I'm alone, because there's only me like me."

"But aren't we all like that?"

He went quiet when facing the obvious.

"No one needs to be an equal to another to find a kindred spirit. Don't you think?"

"I think you're right. I'm reasoning in circles," he shook his head, "It's the kind of thing that makes my mind busy in the spare time."

"It's called an 'existential question', and it happens to the best of minds."

Am I a part of such best minds?

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?" she asked.

"Let's say it's just the surface of the existential questions I usually ask myself."

"It's not like I'm not following the conversation," Sypha turned her head to the side, "Talk about whatever you want."

"I also think a lot about the concepts of 'right' and 'wrong'."

"Right and wrong of anything?"

"Basically," he pulled up the blanket that fell from his shoulder and kept on holding it.

"And you believe there are no shades of grey?"

"There lives the doubt, just as on myself," he looked down, "It's something I thought about a lot before I came with you two."

"On all of those things?"

"Yes. To begin with…," he made himself talk more, "Are there innocents in this world? People who are free from sin?

"Living is making mistakes, if that's what you mean."

"So, there are not. Why fight for those people? Why believe humanity?"

"Because some mistakes weigh less than others," she counted on her fingers, "Because there are forgiveness and regret. And because one believes there can be more good than evil in this world. Now, answer me a thing."

"Ask it."

"What do you think 'good' means?"

Alucard spent nice and bad moments thinking of a series of acts apart in time. His mother hosting a travelling woman with a sick infant. His father giving a coin to an unknown man. Himself taking care of a dog with a hurt paw. His family gifting a neighbor on her grandson's birth. He answered:

"The things you do for the salvation of the others?"

"It's a way to see things. I like it," Sypha smiled, "And it looks way too positive for someone who doesn't believe in innocents in this world."

"I…," he was at a loss of words.

"We're all walking contradictions. Relax."

They watched the rainfall for a while. As if he had not understood before, he noticed how close Sypha was, shoulder by shoulder. I remember the last time.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?" She asked, "And also request you something."

"Whatever you want."

"Keep on doing what you think is right," Sypha had a distant gaze, focused on the rain, "It would be sad to lose you to what's… Not right."

"I've heard the same thing in the beginning of the week, but in a much ruder tone."

"I know quite well," she sighed, "Trevor is not tactful in the slightest."

"And I assaulted him for that. I hope you can forgive me," he felt the guilt up to his throat, "Yourself, I mean. I already had a talk with him."

"It's how men solve things, I guess," she shrugged.

"That's not the question. I didn't mean to hurt him much. I just lost my mind."

"Can I be honest?" she asked. He nodded, "I'm still a bit hurt."

Alucard breathed out all of the air he had in his lungs, and suddenly felt weak.

"But tell me more of what you were talking about," requested Sypha.

He reflected, and then started:

"Think of a horse's halter. Or an amplifying piece of glass. In summary, one sees the world in a way it's not. It's how I feel in that kind of moment. The threats look bigger. The pain cuts deeper. And it makes me feel like that will never end."

She muttered something like an "I see," and said:

"Is that what you're going through, then?"

"Let's say it's not just that, but that, too," he kept staring at the floor, "I… I think I'm sick. I just can't put my finger on what is it called."

In a spark of a memory, he remembered Katrina, the stable owner's daughter, whose face he did not see. The curse at least has a name. What about this?

"You know," Sypha turned to see him, "If Trevor forgave you, I'll forgive you, too."

"All he said is that he was an idiot, and said he's sorry."

"He meant to forgive you."

They both laughed and stared at each other with the remains of a smile. Sypha looked down.

"Thanks for coming," he said.

"Those are my words."

"I'm trying to do what's right."

Alucard waited for her to raise up her face in order to kiss her forehead.

"I believe it's time we go back to the bedroom," he suggested.