"Don't take it too seriously," the innkeeper advised. "The old count, in his final years, used to climb trees and pretend he was a blackbird. No doubt his son inherited his madness."

"Are you, by chance, interested in helping us?" the drunk asked, looking at Dom with hopeful eyes. "Ah, pardon me, let me introduce myself first: I'm Fredo, and this skeptic here is Marzio."

Dom took the opportunity to introduce himself as well, giving only his first name, just as the others had done. Then, with the calmness of someone who had taken on tasks before without even knowing what was expected of him, he said without committing to anything just yet, "It's possible that I might want to lend a hand."

"You must be joking," Marzio said, incredulous that anyone could actually believe the nonsense his friend was spouting. "Are you seriously considering it?"

"It will be dangerous," Fredo declared gravely. "We've heard of people getting injured just from catching sight of the creature."

"Yeah, people who hurt themselves tripping over a rock while running away."

"No one has died yet, but it's only a matter of time," Fredo continued, as usual, ignoring the tavern keeper's remark. "And now that the reward has been announced, things could get even worse—if the vampire finds out and decides to retaliate."

Why he said it as if he would enjoy witnessing the carnage he was predicting, Dom didn't know. But he assumed it was for the same reason Fredo himself wasn't trying to claim the reward.

"I'm not afraid of danger," Dom said. "I've been in the militia and done... some jobs."

At this statement, silence fell instantly. Fredo looked at Marzio, then at Dom, his surprise growing. The tavern keeper, for his part, simply muttered a curse under his breath—perhaps realizing he hadn't watered down the wine enough and was now suffering the consequences.

"You don't believe me?" Dom asked.

"It's not that we don't believe you, but of all the villages one could end up in, that you would just happen to..."

Fredo didn't get the chance to finish because Dom was already pulling out a hunting knife and placing it on the counter. His two interlocutors stared at it in astonishment.

The dagger itself wasn't anything special—its blade was even noticeably worn. But what stood out was the coat of arms of the Duchy of Savoy, engraved on the guard between the blade and the handle, unmistakably identifying him as an experienced soldier.

"I was in the Provincial Militia of Savoy," Dom specified.

"The Militia... Hey, weren't they the ones who, in Staffarda...?"

"...were utterly defeated by the French?" Dom assumed Marzio was about to ask. But Fredo had already moved on.

"Finally, someone prepared!" he exclaimed, seeing in this stranger the hero no one had previously considered they needed. "Believe me, despite what Marzio might say, this village is as grateful as they come. If someone helps us, we'll remember him forever and pay him... Or well, the Count will pay him, according to his services."

"The only thing is, it must be quite difficult to track down a vampire, right?"

In fact, Dom didn't even believe in such superstitions. His idea, upon hearing they were searching for such a creature, had been to pretend he was engaged in a complicated hunt—no concrete leads, but gradually getting closer. Maybe he'd devise a trick or two to make the villagers think he was closing in on the vampire, only for it to always slip away at the last moment.

Then, after two or three months of living here practically for free, enjoying the hospitality of villagers who would see him as a savior, he'd find a way to make them believe he had slain the vampire. That would mark the successful conclusion of his mission, and he could collect the reward with full honors. It was the perfect plan.

Or it would have been, if not for what Fredo said next.

"No, we've already located the vampire. It's the same individual who recently moved into the old abandoned castle in the forest."

"He calls himself Signore Raffaele," Marzio added, catching Dom by surprise—he had assumed Marzio wouldn't get involved. "A strange man, that one."

"I thought you didn't believe in vampires."

"I never said I didn't believe. I just think it's unlikely that one would choose our village to live in. Though... if we're talking about Raffaele, even I have to admit he could very well be a vampire."

"I knew it!" Fredo shouted triumphantly, having convinced a skeptic. Then, turning back to Dom, he said, "You'll help us unmask him and bring him to justice, won't you? With your skills and military training, I'm sure it won't be a problem."

"I'll help you, of course. But first, I'd like to get to know this Raffaele better—I wouldn't want to end up stabbing the wrong person."

To be honest, Dom didn't want to stab anyone at all.

What neither Fredo nor most of the curious people Dom had encountered over the years knew was that he barely had any military training. Sure, he had technically been in the army... for a grand total of three weeks. And it was true that he had been recruited for the Battle of Staffarda, assigned to the infantry lines.

But as much as Dom admired the militia, admiring soldiers from a distance was very different from being on the front lines, fighting the invader. And, well... it should be understandable that, as soon as he sensed danger, Dom had turned and run in the opposite direction.

He had never killed anyone. And he only survived the battle because he knew how to play dead—and later, slip away unnoticed when no one was looking.

Luckily, that part of the story wasn't interesting. So he never told it, and no one ever asked.

"We'll introduce you to Don Raffaele, of course!" Fredo said, though it seemed fear crept in shortly after, and he backtracked. "Or... maybe it's better if we just tell you where his house is, and you go say hello yourself. Yes, that'll be best! He's very hospitable... for a vampire."

"Why do you suspect him?"

"He has no noble title, yet he's clearly rich. Otherwise, he wouldn't have chosen to live in an abandoned castle."

"Well, there's Ciro..." Marzio suddenly reminded him.

"That's right! Ciro was a local vagabond who used to spend his nights at the castle gates when it was still unoccupied. But ever since Raffaele arrived in San Cipriano, he hasn't been seen again."

"We have a shared theory: either he was killed, or he killed himself. The only thing certain is that no body has been found."

"Couldn't he have just left of his own accord?" Dom asked, as the last thing he wanted was to add a disappearance to his growing list of things to investigate.

"Impossible," Marzio said firmly. "If Ciro had decided to leave, he would have stopped by here first to stock up on wine. Which he never did."

"That's it! You go into Raffaele's castle and look for the body," Fredo suggested, as if it were the most ordinary request in the world. "If you find it, we have our vampire."

How was Dom supposed to do such a thing? No, more than that—how was he supposed to face this man who, vampire or not, clearly had some level of social power?

He certainly wasn't going to just show up at his door and say, Hello! I'm here to search your home because your neighbors think you might be a vampire. Mind if I check under the rugs to make sure you're not hiding any corpses?

"Uh... So you only suspect him because he's a noble?" The more he thought about it, the less Dom wanted to pursue such a specific target.

"He has no interest in controlling this village, zero ambition in that sense," Fredo pointed out, as if that fact were almost offensive. "He deeply respects the Count... and the rest of the citizens in general."

"It's unnatural for him to be that nice," Marzio nodded. "He even pays his taxes without complaint."

"And he goes to Mass every Sunday!"

"But wasn't it said that vampires couldn't...?" Dom began.

"Step on sacred ground, yes. But... what if this one is a special vampire? What if our church isn't as consecrated as we think? Before Don Raffaele appeared, there were no attacks. And now we have everything—attacks, disappearances... How much longer before the first confirmed death?"

The argument, chaotic as it seemed, still held up—albeit shakily. And so, Dom had no choice but to sigh, already weary, and agree to meet the primary suspect of vampirism.

Looking on the bright side, the sooner he met this Raffaele, the sooner he could rule him out as a suspect and start planning his scam.