RAVENNA

Part 22

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I knocked on the door, and a few moments later, it swung open. A woman with curly brown hair and a dimply smile greeted me. She held an adorable baby in her arms, who cooed softly. The woman gave me a bright, welcoming smile and looked me up and down, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

"You must be Nieve," she said, confirming my identity with a friendly tone.

I nodded, slightly taken aback by her energy. The baby's cooing caught my attention, and I smiled.

"Oh, this is my daughter, Lunive, and I'm Daphne — your professor's wife," she said cheerfully. "Please, come in."

I couldn't help but notice how different she was from Professor Maria. Daphne was lively and talkative, her presence light and warm. Meanwhile, her husband was cold and reserved. Well, I guess opposites attract.

I stepped inside, slipping my shoes off and placing them neatly on the rack. The inside of the house was painted a soft cream color, which was surprising. Given that I was in the Vampire House, I half-expected dark, brooding tones. On one wall, portraits of a man — both young and old — hung prominently. He was dressed in a green military uniform, covered in medals. I assumed it was Professor Maria's old man.

Daphne led me to the study, which was filled with books — stacks of them, lining every available surface. She asked if I wanted anything to drink.

Before I could say, "No, thank you," she passed me her daughter. "Of course, you'd like some tea. I'll be back in a jiffy," she said as she left the room.

I carefully held Lunive, she chewed on her little fingers, looking up at me with big, curious eyes. I smiled, but that smile quickly faltered when she grabbed my finger and shoved it into her mouth, biting down hard.

I hissed, feeling the sharp sting. Pulling my finger out, I saw a few drops of blood. Did she have teeth already? That sharp?

Daphne walked back into the room, placing a teapot on the table. She caught sight of the small amount of blood on my finger and raised an eyebrow.

"Did she bite you?" she asked, her voice gentle but teasing.

I glanced down at Lunive, still gnawing on her tiny fist. "No way. She's looks...6 months old. How could she already...?"

Daphne tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes as her smile widened. "Vampires don't follow the same rules she is five months," she said lightly, before leaning closer, lowering her voice to a playful whisper. "Those little teeth of hers? They're canines — sharp ones."

"I asked you here to study, not to discuss my daughter's fangs over tea," a cool voice cut in.

Professor Maria stood at the doorway—stoic, tall, his face carved into that same unreadable expression.

"Oh, Andre, I was only making her comfortable. Don't be such a mood spoiler," Daphne replied lightly, her dimples flashing as she poured the tea into a cup. "And she will have her tea first."

She gently lifted Lunive from my arms, cradling the baby with ease.

Maria, unamused, gestured for me to open the book. But before I could reach for it, Daphne turned to her husband, her smile soft yet carrying a subtle sharpness.

"I made it with love, Andre. Do let her finish it."

The sweetness in her voice lingered, but beneath it lay an unmistakable warning—one only a wife who knew her husband's nature all too well could give.

Author's POV

By late afternoon, Nieve had managed to work her way through most of the alchemy texts. Her notes were filled with hurried scrawls, though a few chapters remained unfinished. Professor Maria, noticing her fatigue, showed an unusual touch of leniency.

"You may finish the rest in your room," he said, his voice firm but softened by the faintest trace of mercy.

Relieved, Nieve gathered her things and descended into the hall. There, Daphne was playing with Lavine, their laughter light and fleeting. Nieve was just turning toward the door when a crooked, aged voice stopped her.

"Who are you?"

An old man stood in the hall, his back slightly bent, his scalp nearly bare. The resemblance was unmistakable—he was surely Maria's father.

Nieve straightened politely. "I'm a student of Professor Maria. I'm here for extra lessons."

The man's expression hardened into contempt. "Hmph. So you failed the subject, did you? And what good can these lessons do? A failure teaching another failure." Each word struck with deliberate cruelty. His voice carried not only disdain for the girl before him but also bitterness toward his own son.

From the stairs behind Nieve, professor Maria had halted mid-descent. His sharp eyes fixed on the scene, but he did not interfere. Daphne, sensing the tension, grew quiet.

Nieve's gaze wandered briefly to the portraits along the walls—stern men in uniforms, bearing medals of valor. The pattern was clear. The old man had long wanted his son to continue the family's military legacy, not bury himself in books and teaching.

Anger stirred in Nieve, hot and restless, yet she mastered herself. With a calm breath, she faced him with a faint, resolute smile.

"As people like him—people you call failures—exist, people like me still have hope," she said steadily. "He understands what it means to stumble, to fall. Because there are men like you, who scorn and abandon, others are driven toward choices they can never undo—toward regret."

Her words hung in the air like a blade suspended. Without waiting for a response, Nieve turned and walked out of the house, her quiet defiance lingering behind her long after the door closed.