When Freyen regained consciousness, the first thing he smelled was an indescribable medicinal scent, and faint murmurs of a woman reached his ears.
"Roach legs, rat tails, this is how it is... I clearly succeeded yesterday..."
Accompanied by the woman's murmuring, the potion pot, bubbling with green foam, made two gurgling sounds, almost mocking the woman's incompetence.
"Where did I go wrong?" Cynthia's messy red hair looked like it hadn't been tidied in a while, and she was wearing a light yellow floral dress, holding a magic book and studying it.
"I should have studied this earlier during my free time instead of thinking I could recover on my own," she muttered.
Freyen opened his eyes. The intense light was blinding, and it took him a while to adjust before he could make out his surroundings.
The bed curtain in front of him was made of heavy wine-red fabric, but most of it had been drawn back, revealing a medieval-style brick-and-wood house. The dark brown wooden walls were adorned with a dimly burning oil lamp that seemed covered in dust, indicating it hadn't been used for some time.
Freyen tried to move, but as he did, he pulled at his abdominal wound and groaned in pain. He collapsed back onto the bed, and Cynthia, with her sharp ears, quickly noticed.
Hearing the sound, Cynthia put down the magic book and skipped over to him. She helped him sit up, touched his forehead, adjusted his blanket, and smiled brightly.
"You're awake! I'm making healing potions for you, should be ready soon. Are you hungry? Here, have this."
She placed two cookies and a bottle of milk on the table next to Freyen. Then, she turned around to continue working on her potion.
The wooden table was old, with cracks and insect holes around the edges. But why was it described as ornate? Because it had a translucent lace tablecloth, a vase with two bright red roses, white porcelain dishes, and teacups, with macarons and cookies neatly arranged—just like an aristocratic lady's afternoon tea.
Freyen was unsure what to say. He hadn't forgotten that the red-haired woman who had killed the large vampire that night was Cynthia, and at that time, she clearly resembled a vampire. But looking at her now, with sunlight pouring through the open window, her red curls glowing, she looked like the legendary Vampire Queen—human in form, unafraid of sunlight, unbothered by silver.
"Ahhh!!" Cynthia suddenly screamed. The potion in the pot bubbled up into a thick smoke, enveloping her in a cloud.
"Cough, cough, cough."
Her face turned gray as she fanned herself, looking a bit ridiculous.
"Hissss..." A sound, seemingly from the corner, echoed, sounding like a mocking laugh.
"Little White, no laughing! If you're so great, you try it! All you do is laugh at others!" Cynthia shouted at the stove, which was painted with a strawberry design, showing no sign of remorse.
"I'll try again. I can't believe I can't get this potion right! I'm following the magic book step by step," she muttered, slapping her dust-covered face, though it didn't help much.
"Roach legs, rat tails, three licorice leaves, dew, beast blood lily stamens, stir three bowls of water..."
As she followed the book's instructions, she stirred it again. The green foaming liquid gradually turned into a transparent, crystalline paste.
"I did it!! Yay!" Cynthia was so thrilled she almost jumped. She quickly grabbed a wooden bowl and spoon, scooping the paste out like it was food.
"See, Little White, you just don't want to admit that I'm better than you! Such an easy potion, and I can still make it. It's not that hard... Hehe, no more banter."
Cynthia looked like a little person who had just won, proud of herself as she bounced over to Freyen's bed. She lifted the blanket to give him the medicine but couldn't lift it.
She tried again but still couldn't pull it off. Freyen pursed his lips and said nothing, watching the woman trying to lift his blanket.
"What are you doing?" Cynthia asked, her confused little hair standing up as if in disbelief.
"I'll do it myself," Freyen replied, his calm demeanor faltering.
"Can you do it?" Cynthia looked at him skeptically. Mr. Hu could hardly get up, let alone administer the medicine on his own.
But Freyen gave her a firm look, although he had clearly overestimated his strength.
The wounds from the large vampire's attack were cursed, so not only did they cause extreme pain, but they also refused to heal. Without the help of a powerful alchemist, the wounds would continue to rot until death. This was one of the terrifying aspects of large vampires.
Freyen was badly injured, unable to even pick up the bowl due to the pain. His forehead was covered in cold sweat, and Cynthia quickly snatched the wooden bowl from his hands.
She tried pulling the blanket again, but it was still stuck. Freyen stubbornly held onto the blanket, showing his last ounce of resistance, but even that couldn't hold out. Even a strong human couldn't compare to a vampire's strength, so Cynthia easily lifted the blanket.
Freyen's shirt had been removed the night before because the wounds couldn't get infected again. Cynthia had taken it off. Freyen clutched the sheet beneath him, looking slightly nervous.
Cynthia grinned. "Mr. Hu, don't be so nervous. It's not the first time you've seen little bunny like this. What's been seen and touched was already dealt with last night!"
She said this very lightly, almost comforting him. But Freyen didn't feel comforted at all. What did she mean by what's been seen and touched?
"Just apply the medicine quickly. Stop dawdling," Freyen said stiffly, but immediately regretted it. Given that this woman was his lifesaver, his tone had been too harsh. He wondered if she would be upset.
He cautiously glanced at Cynthia, but her face showed no sign of anger. In fact, it looked like she was... pleased?
"Okay, okay, Mr. Hu," Cynthia said, nodding enthusiastically as she skillfully removed the bandages and began applying the medicine.
"My name is Freyen," he said, his deep voice vibrating through his chest, even though they were some distance apart.
"Yeah, I know, Mr. Hu."
Well, at least she got that right. Freyen decided not to say anything more, letting her call him that if she preferred.
The translucent, cool ointment was applied to his dark, damaged wound. The pain eased immediately, and the wound began to heal visibly. However, no matter how much medicine was used, there remained a small gap in the center of the wound—this was the curse of the large vampire.
Seeing that the medicine didn't have much effect, Cynthia set the bowl down and thought for a moment. It seemed she was about to make another potion, one to remove the curse.
She quickly finished rebandaging his wounds and stood up, intending to continue studying the magic book.
"It's useless. This is the best outcome," Freyen said with a bitter smile. "The curse of the large vampire is nearly impossible to cure. I'll probably carry this wound with me for the rest of my life."
Cynthia immediately refuted, "What do you mean 'impossible'? The magic book says it's possible."
"See page 123. The cure for the curse of the large vampire is either the blood of a large vampire or the blood of a non-pure vampire."
"The vampire that injured me is dead, and I've never seen a non-pure vampire in the vampire hunter association."
Not only had Freyen never seen one in the association, but in previous records, non-pure vampires were thought to exist only in legend.
Cynthia smiled, her little fangs just barely visible. A non-pure vampire... that's exactly what she was.
"Don't worry, Little Bunny will make you better," Cynthia gave him a reassuring look.