"Jean! If you use my surgical silk to mend your designer trousers one more time, I’ll bury you in the vegetable patch!" Slava bellowed.

Slava sighed, his shoulders sagging. He looked at Jean, who suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.

"It’s called style, Svyatoslav. Something you haven't touched since the Rurik dynasty," Jean retorted, checking his reflection in a blackened spoon.

Svyatoslav Vernidubovich, or "Grandpa Slava" to the few who knew his true nature, sat in his cramped kitchen, nursing a mug of lukewarm pig’s blood mixed with chicory. To his neighbors, he was a grumpy pensioner with a penchant for historical trivia and a stubborn refusal to fix his leaky sink. In reality, he was the eldest vampire in the region, a man who had seen the Golden Horde come and go and still thought the invention of the internet was "a bit much."

Slava opened the door to find Irina standing there, her face as cold as the Smolensk winter.

"We don't kill," Slava said firmly. "My family follows the rules. We drink from the hospital surplus—Jean sees to the paperwork."

Their bickering was interrupted by a sharp, rhythmic knocking—the kind of knock that sounded like a legal summons. Slava froze. It was the Keepers.

Central Russia's Vampires (2021) | Subtitles

"Jean! If you use my surgical silk to mend your designer trousers one more time, I’ll bury you in the vegetable patch!" Slava bellowed.

Slava sighed, his shoulders sagging. He looked at Jean, who suddenly found the ceiling very interesting. Central Russia's Vampires (2021) subtitles

"It’s called style, Svyatoslav. Something you haven't touched since the Rurik dynasty," Jean retorted, checking his reflection in a blackened spoon. He looked at Jean, who suddenly found the

Svyatoslav Vernidubovich, or "Grandpa Slava" to the few who knew his true nature, sat in his cramped kitchen, nursing a mug of lukewarm pig’s blood mixed with chicory. To his neighbors, he was a grumpy pensioner with a penchant for historical trivia and a stubborn refusal to fix his leaky sink. In reality, he was the eldest vampire in the region, a man who had seen the Golden Horde come and go and still thought the invention of the internet was "a bit much." Svyatoslav Vernidubovich, or "Grandpa Slava" to the few

Slava opened the door to find Irina standing there, her face as cold as the Smolensk winter.

"We don't kill," Slava said firmly. "My family follows the rules. We drink from the hospital surplus—Jean sees to the paperwork."

Their bickering was interrupted by a sharp, rhythmic knocking—the kind of knock that sounded like a legal summons. Slava froze. It was the Keepers.