The vampire returned with a stack of ledgers balanced neatly in her pale hands. She laid them on the table with fluid grace, the faint scent of ink and parchment wafting into the air. "Here are the listings available in this district," she said, spreading the books open so the illustrations and descriptions were visible. Each page glimmered with sketches of grand homes: villas with fountains in the courtyards, estates with three floors and sprawling gardens, residences with built-in staff quarters.
Mayla leaned forward, flipping a page slowly. Her brows knit. "All of these are… far too large," she murmured. "I'll be living on my own. Something smaller would be enough." Her tone wasn't shy, but measured, practical.
The vampire tilted her head, crimson eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Just for you alone? I had assumed, of course, that the two of you were a couple."
Before Mayla could answer, Trafalgar cut in, his voice steady and without hesitation. "No. We're not."
