With that conversation finished, the world folded back into itself with a soft, almost courteous pull, blood-aspected pressure releasing him rather than throwing him out, and the next thing
Albedo felt was familiar linen beneath his fingers and the faint hum of a mana-insulated ward embedded in the walls.
He was back in his hotel room. The bottle in his hand was still half-full and the folder that Raven gave him was still tucked under his arm.
The late afternoon light slanted through the tall window exactly as it had before he'd left, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden glow like nothing monumental had just occurred.
Albedo stood there for a moment, unmoving.
Then he let out a long breath and rolled his neck once, tension bleeding out in a slow wave. "Tch," he muttered quietly. "Vampires."
He set the bottle down on the small table by the window and tossed the black folder beside it, the blood-sealed crest pulsing faintly before settling into dormancy.
