"Why did you save me?" Freyren was at a loss for words. After all, vampires and vampire hunters were natural enemies.
"Ah, but you saved me too, didn't you?"
"At the time, I didn't know you were... a vampire," Freyren hadn't recognized that Cynthia was a vampire back then.
"Really? At the time, I didn't want to be discovered either, because it would cause a lot of trouble," Cynthia said, putting a biscuit in her mouth, revealing two small fangs hidden behind her rosy lips.
Freyren didn't respond. Now that he had recovered somewhat, he took a biscuit from the bedside table that Cynthia had placed there and tasted it. His eyes widened in surprise.
"Delicious, right? This is the result of my 11th failed attempt," Cynthia said proudly as she turned back to the cauldron and muttered a spell. The cauldron bubbled green again.
Freyren nodded, though Cynthia couldn't see it. The biscuit was indeed quite good, sweet and tasty. But was it really something to be proud of after 11 failures?
"Ssssss," the hissing sound came again, this time from under the wooden table. Freyren, using his keen hunter's instincts, spotted a small, all-white snake.
"Do you keep snakes?" Freyren asked, noticing that it was a magical snake, its red eyes glowing with faint magical energy. His vigilance was back up again. Even though vampires appeared human, they often associated with magical creatures.
"Yes, but it's not mine," Cynthia replied, her tone suddenly shifting to one of discomfort. She put down the bowl with some leftover ointment and drew a silver knife across her palm.
"Ssssss," the white snake suddenly slithered onto the table, lifting its head and flicking its tongue at Cynthia.
"Don't worry, little White," she reassured it, but when the snake bit her finger, Cynthia was taken by surprise. The snake quickly escaped her grip, speeding toward Freyren.
She stepped forward, grabbed the snake again, and smiled innocently. "It really has nothing to do with him."
"Your snake seems to dislike me," Freyren said, observing that the snake had bitten its own owner.
"No, little White reacts like that to all vampire hunters. Its previous owner was taken by vampire hunters," Cynthia said, placing the snake on the windowsill. The white snake slithered away quickly, and Cynthia closed the window to prevent it from coming back inside.
"Magical snakes are extremely loyal to their masters. After its master, Aylia, was captured, little White was severely wounded but still tried to track Aylia's scent. However, when its master was near death, little White's life was also in danger. Fortunately, when I returned, I found it and brought it back before any hunter could capture it."
Freyren understood. "But if the master dies, the magical pet would..."
"Yes, but little White didn't die. Although its power has greatly weakened, that means Aylia is still alive," Cynthia said, sitting in a wooden chair, basking in the sunlight. However, the sunlight couldn't warm her heart.
"She escaped?" Freyren asked, surprised.
Cynthia shook her head. "Little White can track Aylia's scent, but the scent was blocked by the hunter association's barriers. We can be certain that Aylia is in the hunter association, and she's suffering."
Cynthia's eyes became misty, and she seemed lost in thought. Her friend was probably suffering beyond imagination. Otherwise, little White's power wouldn't have weakened so much. After all, she was the pet of the Vampire King, and she had once been powerful enough to crush entire forests with her strength. But now little White was no bigger than two fingers, a shadow of her former self.
Freyren bit his lip. This new information was difficult to digest, as it meant the Hunter Association had some dark secrets. He suddenly remembered the underground city, a place only accessible to gold-tier or ace hunters. Even Freyren had never been there because only those of high rank could enter.
The mission to eliminate the Cloak Night Demon had been completed. All he needed was to bring the proof of the Big Vampire's identity to the Hunter Association's desk to be promoted to a gold-tier hunter. But since Cynthia had already crushed the Night Demon's head, and he had passed out, the task was pretty much a waste.
Freyren stood up, tightening his sleeves. "You saved me, so I won't betray you immediately. I can also promise you one favor."
"Is that the habit of all hunters?" Cynthia pouted, clearly displeased.
"Hmm?"
"Everything has to have a cause. I saved you, so you owe me. Even though I'm a vampire, an enemy of hunters," she said, her tone more playful.
"I have my principles. I always repay kindness, but you're right. We aren't on the same side. So, next time you see me, just walk away. I won't show mercy."
Freyren's stern expression reminded Cynthia of the first time she met him—his face was emotionless.
"But you can't beat me. I have my magic book!" Cynthia pointed at the magical book on the table, one she often studied.
Freyren went silent.
"Alright, alright, next time I'll just avoid you," Cynthia said, smiling as if she were wagging her tail.
"By the way, it's a little cold today. I've prepared a cloak for you," she said, pulling a heavy cloak out from under the bed.
Freyren recognized it immediately—it was the Cloak Night Demon's cloak. He was surprised that Cynthia had taken it.
He glanced at the window, where the sun was shining brightly. Despite this, Freyren accepted the cloak and said quietly, "Thank you."
"Huh? What did you say?" Cynthia pretended not to hear.
Freyren didn't answer her. He turned and opened the door, as vampires' hearing was far better than that of ordinary humans.
"Mr. Hu, you must come see me often!" Cynthia waved at him from the door, her messy red curls bouncing.
Freyren turned around silently and walked away. By the time he reached the end of the alley, he could still hear Cynthia's voice bidding him farewell.
He quickened his pace, as he could hear several neighbors opening their windows.