Blinding sunlight, shrieking crows, bugs that gnaw on coffins... Vampires hate many things, and swamps were undoubtedly one of them.
The swamp was not only teeming with all sorts of savage, filthy monsters, but also with viscous mire that threatened to soil their magnificent formalwear and exquisite leather boots at any moment.
For vampires so concerned with their poise, it was utterly unbearable.
And yet, this was Sir Casimir's third time setting foot here.
He hadn't even realized it himself, but he had gradually grown accustomed to this filthy swamp he once couldn't wait to avoid. He was even beginning to faintly appreciate its beauty.
Whether it was the brilliant afternoon sun filtering through the dense canopy to dapple the swamp, or the Slimes huddled together in warm patches of light, lazily "sunbathing"—in his eyes, it all possessed a certain natural charm.
