The day that had started out deadly boring sparkled with something resembling entertainment in the evening. The carriage stopped at a gloomy building with a name burned into the darkened wood: "The Mystical Salon of Madame Ferros." Rarely did his work take him to such places, Mr. Hellsing usually visited such places alone. Inside, there was a dark, mysterious atmosphere. At the door, like an annoying little dog, a young gentleman was hanging around, who, after a short conversation with the Lord, with a strained smile, led them further.

Don't talk too much. You're only here to watch. Lord Hellsing quietly tells Alucard.

I know, I know. Alucard grumbles, following his master, the floorboards creaking.

The dark corridors were filled with paintings, on the floor there were carpets that were surprisingly clean, compared to the streets. At the end of the corridor, a dark room opened up before your eyes. On the floor there was a Turkish carpet, above which a carved table was returned, the fancy furniture, full of books and jars, was covered by a female silhouette.