In the 17th century, a castle in the suburbs of France.
"Hello, my name is Loki Bertrada." With white hair and a pair of slender and narrowed eyes, the man in front of him is obviously unfathomable.
"Hello." She made a very decent salute, and the red skirt hit his eyes like waves: "Ophelia Bathory."
"You will come, it must not be as simple as a visit!" She smiled, her cheerful expression, her golden hair and the sunshine reflecting each other.
"I thought vampires were afraid of the sun!" He held up the black tea and smiled, it was still the same smile as when he entered the house, even the arc remained the same.
"The Duke of Beltrada is here, is he here to look for vampires?" With an unabashed smile, golden white skin and rosy lips, the woman in front of him seemed to be just an extremely beautiful beauty of a generation. He could not see the shadow of tragedy in her, except for the pair of lifeless gray eyes.
Die Jue. The only adjective he could think of at the moment.
"No, what I want is SECRET!" He took a sip of tea and spoke, with a thick British accent in his words, which seemed quite threatening.
The movement of laughter stopped suddenly, and everything was suspended the moment the soft sound of T popped out of his lips.