Jota stepped closer—too close, until the distance between their faces nearly disappeared.
"There's a stain on your lips," he said casually, as if unaware of how close they were.
Jota raised his thumb and gently wiped Viola's lips. His touch was soft. He brushed them a few times until the stain was completely gone, only then letting his hand fall.
Yet their faces remained close.
"Why are your cheeks red?" Jota asked, puzzled.
Viola fell silent. Her cheeks weren't flushed without reason—the moment had felt romantic to her, even if to Jota it might have been nothing more than a simple gesture of care.
Only then did Viola realize they were standing under a roadside shelter. The midday sun blazed outside. For a vampire like her, sunlight could burn her entire body.
Her gaze shifted toward Jota, then fell on the coffin he carried—a detail present since the beginning of the story. It was the only way for Viola to travel during the day without being touched by sunlight.
Jota glanced toward the right side of the road, his expression now serious.
"Vampire hunters are coming. Get inside the coffin," Jota whispered into Viola's ear.
Without wasting time, Jota opened the coffin he carried and helped Viola climb inside, then shut it tightly.
Soon after, the sound of heavy footsteps grew clearer. There were four vampire hunters. One of them—a man nearly two meters tall—approached Jota. But for some reason, the four men eventually ignored him and walked away.
After their footsteps faded completely, Jota reopened the coffin.
"Is it safe?" Viola asked softly.
"Relax," Jota replied. "They're gone."
Jota pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a small flame that appeared at his fingertip.
"The weather's cloudy," he said briefly.
Jota was right. Thick clouds covered the sky, hiding the sun completely. Even so, not a single drop of rain fell.
Jota gripped Viola's right hand firmly. "Let's find a place to rest."
They headed toward a very grand house—the residence of a nobleman. They had obtained the address after previously saving the owner's life, a noble named James.
In short, they were allowed in by the guards and warmly welcomed by James himself.
"Sorry to trouble you," Jota said politely. "May we stay here for a while?"
"Hahaha! You saved my life. It's only right that I repay your kindness," James replied with a broad laugh.
Viola sipped the tea served on the table. However, there was hardly any taste to it. The tea felt incredibly bland—even the blood she had drunk earlier had been far more enjoyable.
James smiled confidently. "That is the highest-quality tea in this country."
Since Sofia was currently acting as Viola, she had to maintain her disguise carefully to avoid arousing Jota's suspicion. With a blunt honesty, she said, "Your tea tastes terribly bland."
James kept smiling without replying, though inwardly he felt slightly guilty that the drink did not suit Viola's taste.
"Well then," James said casually, "you may rest here for the night."
He called for the servants and instructed them to escort Jota and Viola to their respective rooms.