Walter's mop quietly swept across the cookie crumbs scattered over the hallway floor. The alarm had already fallen silent. As if the battle moments ago had been a lie, the only sound echoing through the drawing room was the crackling of the fireplace. A large dent remained in the wall where Alucard had slammed one of the extremists, and white shards of broken teacups glinted in mottled patches across the floor. "*Hah…*" Walter let out a small sigh. Seras had been counting them carefully. One. Two. Three. "[whispers]Master Alucard." She gently tugged the sleeve of the black-coated vampire standing beside her. Alucard was staring at the remains of the meat buns scattered across the floor. Three flattened white lumps. The ones sacrificed during the battle just now. "[whispers]Walter just sighed three times. That's… a lot." "[cold]I wouldn't know." "[sad]But three times! Cleaning up is way harder than the actual fighting, so please show a little remorse." "[cold]Is your cake box unharmed?" Seras's words caught in her throat. (*He lost three of his own meat buns, so why is he worrying about my cake…?*) Still looking away, Alucard picked up one of the meat buns from the floor. No more steam rose from it. He stared at it for a moment, then murmured quietly. "[sad]Three of them." His voice sounded genuinely heartbroken. A five-hundred-year-old vampire, wearing an expression like the world had ended over the loss of three meat buns. Seras fought back the urge to laugh. Walter continued working his hands in silence. The mop gathered the cookie crumbs, and the broken ceramic shards were swept into the dustpan. His white hair slicked back, his figure from behind remained unruffled no matter what happened. "[gentle]A disaster of this scale falls within the realm of kitchen problems, compared to 1944." He murmured the words quietly over his shoulder. Seras swallowed hard. 1944. The height of World War II. She understood that the standard of "disaster" for a man called the God of Death at age fourteen far exceeded anything she could imagine. "[gentle]Now then, I shall prepare a fresh tea set. Everyone, please take a seat and wait." Walter turned around. Already in his hands was a silver tray bearing three new teacups. When had he prepared those? Anderson sat quietly in his chair. His massive frame in white robes cast a large shadow against the wall, the fireplace at his back. "[gentle]Sir Walter's tea alone is truly a blessing from God." "[cold]I've heard that line from you before." Alucard sank into his chair as well. Not a trace remained of the tension from the battle moments ago. As Seras took her seat last, she looked at the table. Only one meat bun remained on the plate. The final one, which had miraculously survived the chaos of the battle. A faint wisp of steam still rose from it, and the white, round bun looked strangely divine amidst the wreckage of the broken teacups. Walter tilted the pot. Amber-colored tea poured into the fresh cups. The refreshing scent of Earl Grey mingled with the smell of burnt cookies. "[gentle]This will be the fourth cup of tea." The steam from the tea rose in gentle waves toward the ceiling. That was when it happened. Anderson's large hand moved slowly. Alucard narrowed his eyes. His crimson pupils glinted, nearly splitting into vertical slits. But Anderson did not stop. His hand gently picked up the last meat bun from the plate. "…Hey." Seras held her breath. (*Are we fighting again?! It just ended!*) But Anderson's face was smiling. The usual cheerful face of the priest. His eyes were narrowed, his green pupils shining gently. "[gentle]This time, it seems I can eat without anyone interrupting." So saying, he brought the meat bun to his mouth. One bite. He chewed slowly. Alucard watched him in silence. His hands remained folded, but Seras could tell he was clenching his fists beneath the table. (*Master Alucard isn't angry…? No, he's angry, but holding it in?*) The few seconds felt strangely long. Anderson swallowed. "[gentle]…Not bad." A quiet voice. Not a joke, not mere pleasantry — a tone as if simply stating a fact. Alucard froze for a beat. His crimson eyes stared at Anderson as if searching for something. "[surprised]…Hoh." Just that. But with that single word, the tension drained from Alucard's shoulders. Anderson moved to return the remaining meat bun to the plate, but Alucard stopped him with a hand. "[cold]Eat it. You took it." Then, this time, Alucard moved. He pulled the cookie tin — Anderson's cookie tin — toward himself. Inside the dented tin, a few intact cookies still remained. One. Alucard picked it up and put it in his mouth. Chewing. A second. Chewing. A third. Chewing. Seras watched in stunned disbelief. (*Wait just a minute. Master Alucard, you never took a single bite of my cake!*) She screamed internally. But she couldn't say it out loud. Somehow, she felt that would be wrong. Before she knew it, the tin was empty. In Alucard's hand, the cookie tin rattled lightly. The crumbs of the last cookie slipped through the gaps between his fingers. "[cold]Not something a Protestant vampire should be eating." He said it bluntly. But — the tin was empty. He had eaten every single one. Anderson laughed out loud. "[laughing]Ha! That's rich, coming from someone who ate until the tin was empty!" His cheerful laughter made the fireplace flames tremble. "[serious]…Your cookies have too much butter. Use less." "[laughing]Hmm, I'll keep that in mind. Your meat buns have filling that's too sweet." "[cold]Sweet is good." Seras had forgotten even to sigh. (*What is this? What's going on? Sworn enemies are discussing the taste of cookies and meat buns.*) As Walter quietly cleared away the tea set, a small smile played on his lips. A gentle smile, as if he saw through everything. "[gentle]Shall I prepare refills?" His voice carried none of its usual sighs. —That was when it happened. The door opened. "[serious]You seem to be having quite a lot of fun." A cold voice cut through the warmth of the fireplace. Everyone turned around. At the entrance to the drawing room stood Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. Her long black hair was loosely tied back, a cigar held between her slender fingers. Her deep blue eyes first stared hard at the large dent in the wall, then glanced toward the hallway where the three bound extremists lay sprawled. Walter stepped forward. "[gentle]Oh, Lady Integra. You've come down from your office?" "[cold]It was noisy. I'll hear the report." She entered the drawing room slowly and sat in her usual designated seat — the chair directly facing the fireplace. The cigar smoke coiled as it mingled with the steam from the tea. Walter explained concisely. The extremists' intrusion, Alucard and Anderson's response, the circumstances of subduing them without weapons. When Integra had heard everything, she smiled slightly, cigar still in her mouth. "[sarcastic]How shall I write the report? That intruders were repelled with meat buns?" "[gentle]There was a small accident during the entertainment at the tea party." A moment of silence followed Walter's answer. Integra's blue eyes looked at Alucard. Alucard was gazing out the window, looking bored. Next, she looked at Anderson. Anderson was laughing cheerfully. Finally, she looked at Seras. Seras was shrinking uncomfortably. Integra looked back and forth between the empty cookie tin and the plate of flattened meat buns. "[serious]I declare this" She exhaled a deep plume of cigar smoke. "[serious]a diplomatic victory achieved by the Hellsing Organization's tea party." The solemn word "declare" fell upon the empty cookie tin. Seras nearly let out a sound. "Um, Lady Integra… that's…" "[cold]We won without fighting. Is there a problem?" "[excited]No, you're absolutely right! A diplomatic victory!" At that moment, Alucard raised his hand. "[serious]Integra, I have a report." "[cold]What is it." "[serious]Three meat buns were sacrificed." "[cold]Write it off as an expense." An immediate answer. Not a millisecond of hesitation. Walter let out a small sigh. "[sigh]The monthly meat bun expenses will increase again." "[excited]But we won, right! In the truest sense!" Integra, still holding her cigar, smiled once more. "[serious]That's it." —Saying only that, she stood up. She was likely returning to her office. She turned back once at the door, directing her gaze at Anderson. "[cold]Father Anderson. Let's have another tea party next time." "[gentle]With pleasure. I shall bring cookies with a different recipe next time." "[cold]Yes. The vampire here was complaining about too much butter." "[excited]Wha— even you, Lady Integra!" With Seras's retort at her back, Integra quietly departed. Only the cigar smoke lingered in the drawing room for a while. —Some time later. Anderson's tall figure stood before the front entrance. Fully prepared to leave, he carried the dented cookie tin tucked under his arm. "[gentle]Well now, it was an enjoyable time." Alucard leaned against the entrance pillar, arms folded. "[cold]When will you come next." "[laughing]Oh? You want me to come?" "[cold]I owe you for the meat buns." Anderson laughed aloud. His white breath mingled with the winter air. Just as he placed his hand on the front door, he suddenly stopped. "[serious]One thing, just as an aside." His green eyes, turned back, carried a serious light. "[serious]In the lands north of Scotland, there have been continuing incidents of entire villages going missing." Alucard's eyebrow twitched. "[cold]Rumors of a vampire manufacturer?" "[serious]I merely obtained information from someone who had heard of such a thing. Details are unknown. Neither the identity nor the scale." The expression vanished from Seras's face. A vampire manufacturer — a being that intentionally turns humans into ghouls or vampires. The most dangerous kind of enemy. "[cold]This could get interesting." A slow grin spread across Alucard's lips. "[serious]The next time we meet may be on the battlefield." Anderson returned the smile. "[cold]Until then, I owe you for the meat buns." "[laughing]Consider the debt cleared with one tin of cookies." Anderson raised a hand and, without looking back, walked away into the winter garden. His massive white-robed figure disappeared beyond the bare trees. The door closed. Staring at the door, Seras murmured quietly. "[gentle]They're basically friends now, aren't they." Walter, standing beside her, answered calmly. "[gentle]It would seem so." The two exchanged glances and laughed softly. —That night. Late at night, at the Daily Mart Wimbluck branch. The sound of the automatic door opening echoed through the quiet store. Store manager Toby Ferguson looked up from the register. "[excited]Oh, welcome! You're late today." Alucard entered the store in silence and stood before the meat bun display case. The hem of his long coat caught the fluorescent light. "[gentle]The usual fifteen, is it? Or today will it be…" "[gentle]I'll take twenty." Toby's eyes widened for a moment, then he grinned happily. "[excited]Oh, a bigger order today! Something good happen?" Alucard didn't answer. But the corners of his mouth relaxed just slightly. The white, round meat buns were packed into the bag one after another. Twenty of them — five more than usual. "[gentle]Here you go, thanks as always. See you tomorrow." "[gentle]…Yeah." The vampire, bag in hand, vanished into the darkness of the night. Returning to the mansion, Alucard headed first to Refrigerator C. The refrigerator dedicated to his meat buns. He opened the door and neatly arranged the twenty meat buns inside. Then, he stood before the adjacent Refrigerator B. The refrigerator containing Seras's baking ingredients and blood packs. He opened the door. At the very back was the box of banana cake Seras had made. Pus