That whole thing about not lending him anything extravagant to wear turned out to be a blatant lie.

Dom realized this the moment he saw the options presented to him. And although he ultimately chose the plainest white shirt, the jacket with the fewest decorations, and the pants in the most neutral and unremarkable color possible, he knew full well that he still wouldn't go unnoticed among the villagers.

The clothes felt great on his body, being made of such high-quality materials, but they also screamed aristocracy at full volume. And there was no way the villagers would forgive that easily.

Now, if he had to say something in Raffaele's defense, he'd admit it probably wasn't his intention to offer clothes so far removed from Dom's usual style: Dom doubted he owned anything that didn't fall into the category of expensive and ornate. It was simply his natural style.

Because of that, and because he had seen how hard Raffaele was trying to make him feel at home in the castle, Dom didn't want to turn him down.
Besides, who was he kidding? The days when he'd accept anything from his host just to avoid offending his sensibilities were long gone. And right now, even if he could've done without the curious stares some neighbors were already throwing at them on their way to the church, he had to admit he was enjoying the new outfit.

Of course, that wasn't something he'd admit out loud. And, needless to say, it wasn't like he wanted to revamp his wardrobe to show up in public dressed like this again. It was just that, as he'd realized in the last few hours, he liked the idea of wearing something that belonged to Raffaele. Not because he was a noble, but simply because... he was Raffaele.

Dom was getting too fond of the man. He knew it well, and the worst part was that it didn't even worry him enough to scold himself about it.

One day he'd have to leave the village, but until then, he planned to make the most of every second he was granted in Raffaele's company.

And so, that Sunday, Raffaele and Dom went to the parish church together. Once inside, Dom figured it would be best to find a seat at the back, near the exit—a strategic place where he wouldn't feel all the stares on his back and could slip away easily if things got tense.

That was his brilliant idea. Unfortunately, it was completely overshadowed by the fact that Raffaele had other plans.

As a result, the two ended up sitting on one of the benches right in the middle of the church, surrounded by worshippers, unable to avoid the very curious glances Dom had hoped to hide from—or even having to deal with the typical neighbor trying to strike up casual conversation before the service started.

Dom knew a large part of the attention they were getting was because of him—because of the novelty of entering practically arm-in-arm with the mysterious and wealthy outsider, dressed in his clothes and altogether giving the impression of having been hired as a page or, worse, taken in at the fortress as a high-born guest.

It was all very strange. And Dom didn't miss the fact that Fredo and Marzio were also there, several rows away: both of them had widened their eyes quite a bit when they saw him walk in just a couple of steps behind Raffaele, and Fredo, with no subtlety whatsoever, started making silent gestures to try to get his attention.

Dom suspected that, if it weren't for the fact that almost everyone was already in their seats and the mass was about to begin, Fredo wouldn't have hesitated to come over. Oh well, wasn't that to be expected? Dom pretended not to have seen him, secretly thankful to Marzio when he noticed how the latter scolded Fredo to stop waving and stay still, since the two of them were already drawing too many stares as it was.

As a mental note, Dom told himself that once the service was over, he would go talk to them. He'd gotten into this mess of hunting a vampire because of them, and they at least deserved an update on how things were going.

"Everything okay?" Raffaele asked quietly, his good mood increasingly evident. If he noticed how much the locals were reveling in their presence, he didn't seem to care.

In fact, Dom would even say he was enjoying it.

"All good," Dom replied, though not very enthusiastically. "And you? You've been... strange since we left the castle."

"Oh? I don't know what you mean, I feel perfectly fine."

"I wasn't talking about your mood—" Though that too, he thought, since ever since the underwear incident, he'd noticed Raffaele acting a bit more reserved than usual. "I meant your outfit. Aren't you a little overdressed?"

Sure, they were still in the colder months, but the day before, Raffaele hadn't needed to cover up to his head with a hood every time they were outside. Nor had he spent the whole day bundled up in a coat or wearing gloves.

Besides, today—for a change—the sun had finally come out after a week of cloudy skies and light rain. The temperature felt warmer, so Dom couldn't see any sense in hiding under more layers than usual.

"My skin is a bit delicate," Raffaele murmured by way of explanation. "I'm usually fine outside, but on days when the sun is stronger than expected, I need to cover up more than usual."

"Seriously? First the special diet and now the sensitive skin—anyone who didn't know you might think you're the vampire everyone's been looking for," Dom joked. "Should I be worried that if you stay out of the shade too long, you'll turn to ashes?"

"I'll be fine," Raffaele smiled, and he seemed to mean it. Although... wasn't he looking a little uneasy?

Dom figured it was probably just embarrassment—no one likes to admit a weakness. Nothing to do with not appreciating the joke—or being affected by it somehow. So he let it go.

Moments later, the mass began, and everything proceeded normally: the villagers stopped staring, focusing instead on the prayers. Raffaele seemed to relax, now that he didn't have to explain his unfortunate physical condition any further. And Dom did his best not to fall asleep while the parish priest talked about the sin of greed and how one would burn in the fires of hell if they dared deceive others for personal gain.

When the mass ended, people began leaving the church. Though most of the parishioners, including Raffaele, didn't go far—they stayed near the building, chatting and catching up on the latest village gossip.

Dom took this moment to briefly separate from his companion and go speak with Fredo and Marzio, who, for the record, were waiting for him by a stone wall that separated the grounds, slightly removed from anyone who might try to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"You're still alive, I'm so glad!" Fredo exclaimed, even before Dom had fully reached them. "When you stopped showing up at the tavern, I feared Don Raffaele had eaten you and buried your remains in the woods."

"No, he would never do that. He's Pythagorean." Noticing that both of them were looking at him in confusion, he added, "He can't eat meat—it upsets his stomach."

"Does that also apply to blood?" Fredo looked not just at Dom now, but also at Marzio, searching for a reasonable explanation for whatever was going through his head. "Not eating meat doesn't necessarily mean blood's off-limits too, right?"

"Popular legends only talk about blood, not meat," Marzio chimed in. "Although, who knows?"

"Have you asked him?" After Dom nodded briefly, Fredo turned to him again.

"I don't think I'm on the kind of terms where I can just ask about whatever diet his doctor put him on."

"But you are on the kind of terms where he lends you his clothes and lets you accompany him into town," he observed, almost reproachfully—as if saying, if there's trust for that, why not for this too?

"Did he hire you as a servant?" Marzio guessed, always the more rational of the two. "I know for a fact Don Raffaele didn't bring any staff with him. But anyone who knows how people of noble lineage operate can tell that wasn't going to stay that way forever."

"He didn't hire me, I'm his guest," Dom said this with a sense of pride he hadn't realized he felt about the matter. "That's why the clothes, and why I've been at the castle these past few days. Raffaele's very kind."

The looks exchanged between his two friends now showed a certain concern. Overblown, in Dom's opinion, and he didn't even get a chance to protest before Fredo suddenly asked:

"Let us see your neck—quick! What if he bit you and that's what's messing with your judgment?"

"No one bit me!" Dom said indignantly. He didn't appreciate his good name being tarnished by these unfounded accusations. "Besides, what would a simple bite have to do with what's going on in my mind? That makes no sense!"

"Oh, it does when we're talking about those creatures of the night! Haven't you heard of hypnosis?"

Dom wasn't going to play along with this, not now that he strongly suspected there was no monster around—and worse, no reward waiting at the end of all this either.

"Marzio, you're the voice of reason here—why don't you say something?" he pleaded. "Tell him how ridiculous all those children's tales are, or how unlikely it is that vampires even exist, despite what people believe."

"A few days ago I would've agreed with you," the tavern owner began, and with that, Dom's last hope of appealing to common sense faded, "but... I'm not sure anymore what's real and what isn't."

"There's been another attack!" Fredo confirmed. "A vicious one this time—Fortunato barely made it out alive!"

"Fortunato? I don't recall talking to any kid by that name."

Then again, Dom hadn't exactly spoken to every child in town, nor made any effort to learn their names—after all, he still held out hope that this would be the first and last time he had to deal with these supernatural shenanigans.

"He's not a kid—he's an adult," Marzio said. "And he works as an assistant to the town doctor. That's why I believe him—he's a serious guy, never has more than one drink when he comes to my bar. If he says he was attacked, I believe him."

"What happened?"

And Marzio told him, as if there weren't already enough complications to go around.

Apparently, this Fortunato had left work after nightfall, heading home, when he saw something in the distance. At first, he didn't pay it any mind, assuming it was just another neighbor who'd climbed the nearby rocks to look out over the village—maybe to see if any livestock had gone missing, or just to pass the time.

Either way, Fortunato wasn't concerned, not even when he noticed that the figure was standing in the shadows, making it impossible to see their features, and completely silent. He simply continued on his way across the fields toward his house.

But barely a minute later, having turned his back on the mysterious person, he was struck on the head and knocked unconscious for several minutes.

"When he came to, he was alone and disoriented," the tavern owner continued. "But that's not even the strangest part. Once Fortunato got home and checked his injuries, he realized the bump on his head wasn't the only thing—he had marks on his neck..."

"Two punctures that still had traces of blood, like someone had sunk their fangs into him and tried to drain him!" Fredo interjected—he sounded so excited one might think he wanted to be attacked.

"I see where you're going with this, but... couldn't he have fallen into a thorn bush or something and gotten scratched?"

"On the neck? In a spot that's normally covered by his shirt and jacket collar?" Marzio maintained his healthy skepticism. "Fortunato swore he passed out in a grassy area, with nothing nearby that could've caused such a thing."

"Because it was the vampire!" Fredo insisted.

"I don't know if it was a vampire or not," Marzio said, "but you've got to admit it sounds suspicious."

"When did this happen?" Dom asked.

"Just last night," Marzio replied. "I found out shortly after the attack because Fortunato was so shaken by the whole thing that he stopped by my tavern before heading home."

Dom nodded, processing this new piece of information. Still, something didn't add up.

"Three months of attacking children—or at least threatening to—and now the vampire suddenly goes for an adult?"

"These things are unpredictable," Marzio shrugged. He was just passing along the facts—it was up to others to sort them out. "Maybe its tastes just changed overnight."

"Or maybe it's been attacking everyone and we're only just starting to figure it out."

Fredo's theory made as much (or as little) sense as everything else surrounding Fortunato's story. And yet, could there be something true in it? Obviously, Dom wasn't about to start believing in vampires at this stage of the story. But he did trust Marzio's judgment, and if this Fortunato seemed like a level-headed guy too... couldn't there be a rational explanation behind all this?

"Excuse me," someone interrupted, cutting Dom off just as he was about to voice the question on the tip of his tongue.

"Don Raffaele!" Fredo put on his best neighborly smile—the kind that says I have never in my life conspired against you. "How are you doing? We were just here, chatting about nothing important. Definitely not debating bloodsucking vampires who knock people out with sucker punches to the back of the head."

"I'm excellent, thank you for asking," Raffaele returned the smile, showing admirable composure in not questioning that madness. "And I'm sure that's a very intriguing topic, but I must steal Dom away from you now, if you don't mind."

As soon as Dom heard that, he knew it was important. So, after a quick goodbye, he left with Raffaele.

"What's going on?" he asked, once they were far enough away that the others couldn't hear.

"I think I just found Carlo."