Can't Leave Her Behind

The second his shift ended, Han Se-gun changed clothes and threw himself toward the motorcycle. The RX-125 stood in the middle of the broad empty lot in front of the warehouse, slightly damp from the autumn rain.

It was hardly ideal weather for riding, yet Se-gun climbed on without a second thought. His coworker Kim Seong-ju came bursting out after him.

"Hey! Se-gun! Where you headed?"

"Don't tell me you're asking for a ride."

"Why not? Just drop me at the station."

Carrying a passenger on the back was never a great idea. Rainy days made it worse. Se-gun said nothing, simply pointed behind him once he was astride the bike.

His personal creed was simple: never stop anyone who seemed determined to get themselves killed. Even if they crashed and died, that was just their fate—a slightly irresponsible thought, but he kicked the engine to life anyway.

Kim Seong-ju clung to Se-gun's waist as if the whole thing were a joyride and chattered nonstop.

"Hahaha! So what are you doing after work?"

"I've got somewhere I need to be."

"Yeah? Meeting a girlfriend or something?"

"Why do you care?"

Se-gun answered curtly and stopped the motorcycle in front of the station. Water sprayed up with a sharp screech of tires.

"We're here."

"Ah, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow!"

"…"

Se-gun watched Kim Seong-ju sprint up into the station, then immediately swung the bike around.

Silvester had insisted they were partners, yet he had ordered Se-gun to race to Arjuna the moment work finished. This felt less like partnership and more like employment. Still, Se-gun knew Silvester had no interest in low-rank vampire blood, and Se-gun himself needed the money.

"Damn it. A vampire hunter scraping for cash!"

He spat the complaint at every vampire movie he had ever seen and gunned the engine. The fuel gauge was already scraping empty; more money would be going down that hole soon.

And yet… Se-gun suddenly braked to a stop. Somehow he felt certain that Jin Yu-mi would be waiting in front of the convenience store again today.

What does it matter if that vacant girl lives or dies?

Besides, she would only be dying for sins she herself had committed. Han Se-gun had not become a vampire hunter solely for revenge. Claiming he had no thirst for vengeance, however, would be a lie.

The only reason a minor like him had endured such brutal training was the ferocious will to pay that debt back.

Even so, Se-gun turned the motorcycle around and headed for the convenience store where he had met her yesterday. Whatever she might have done in the past, the girl she was now was far from whole. Living on as a vacant shell might be the crueler fate—but he could not simply leave her to die.

When Se-gun finally pulled up in front of the convenience store where they had met, no one was there. Of course she wouldn't be standing out in the rain, and they were neither friends nor lovers—nothing at all, really.

"Hahahahaha."

He laughed like a madman right there in front of the store. He had raced through the downpour like a man possessed… and she wasn't even here.

"Haaah."

But the laughter cut off at once. The face that had looked unhinged a second earlier settled back into cold indifference as if nothing had happened.

Call it a hunch. Every so often a person simply knows something with absolute certainty and no evidence at all. Se-gun yanked the front wheel up, spun the bike a full one-eighty on the spot, and charged up the hill.

He had given her a ride to her house only yesterday; the route was still burned into his memory.

"…"

Han Se-gun slipped a hand inside his jacket without a word. The cold weight of the Tokarev met his palm. He used to keep the pistol carefully stowed in the wardrobe of his goshiwon room, but Silvester's return had convinced him to start carrying it. He prayed he would never need to use it… but if there were vampires?

He considered parking the motorcycle and going the rest of the way on foot, then discarded the idea. This was a residential neighborhood. One or two bikes rolling through wouldn't raise eyebrows. Climbing off early and walking the last stretch would look far more suspicious.

At the top of the hill stood a single dilapidated house that looked more like an abandoned ruin than a home. Cobwebs choked every corner; the place clearly had never seen a broom. Yet every so often bags of trash stuffed any which way and unpunctured butane canisters would appear outside—a bizarre little fortress that was unquestionably occupied.

People lived here. And the local delinquents had flocked to it until the neighborhood became so bad the police had given up even patrolling.

"Ahahaaahm."

A punk slumped on the front step made a sound that was half yawn, half labored breathing, and blew cigarette smoke from his mouth. Calling them "delinquents" was generous; most were simple thugs. Nearly all had already quit school, and more than a few had done time in juvenile halls for theft, assault, or rape. The ones who gathered in empty houses like this were the worst of the lot, so the neighbors kept quiet and steered clear.

"You sure this is okay? She's the owner of the place."

"Leave her. There's a hole in her head—she's not right. Besides, we've done this plenty of times."

Yang Su-hyeon, who had once run with Jin Yu-mi in a cheap little circle that called itself the Chilgongju-pa, answered like that and bummed a cigarette from the thug at the door. The man just shrugged.

"So how much are they paying?"

"About a million? They said any more is impossible."

"Hmm. Hole in the head or not, she still looks pretty decent. Maybe I should film a video myself."

"Don't be an idiot. With that tiny thing of yours, what video?"

She spat a gob of phlegm for emphasis. She was hardly the only one; the entryway was littered with cigarette butts and spit. At least they had the sense to step outside when they smoked after huffing gas—otherwise the whole place would have gone up long ago.

"What's with her, though? Why's she fighting it so hard? She never used to be like that."

"Hell if I know. Something about Kurt Cobain."

Su-hyeon shrugged as she answered. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She had known for years that Jin Yu-mi was obsessed with Nirvana's Kurt Cobain, but what did that have to do with anything? Adoring celebrities and idols was practically a religion.

Love for a god and love for a human body were separate things… idol worship never stopped anyone from fucking.

VROOOOM!

The roar of a motorcycle engine suddenly filled their ears. A moment later the RX-125 rolled into view.

"What the—"

Thud!

Without the slightest warning the rider slammed straight into the man sitting on the front step. He planted the bike, swung off, and never even glanced at Su-hyeon.

"Uuugh… kkuhhh…"

The man who had been hit was naturally in a great deal of pain, but the newcomer vaulted over him as if he weren't even there and pulled off his helmet.

"Inside?"

He raked green-bleached hair back into a part and turned to look at Su-hyeon.

"Ah—w-what the hell are you doing, you crazy—"

She never finished the sentence. His kick took her square in the gut first. A clean front kick drove the wind and all strength out of her body; her organs screamed under the impact. The shock traveled straight up her spine and wrenched tears from her eyes. She crumpled forward without any resistance at all.

"…"

He kicked the door open and scanned the interior. No vampires—exactly as he had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠feared—but what was happening was hardly better.

"W-what the fuck?"

Several men and women stood just inside the entrance. The newcomer swung the helmet in his hand and dropped a man, then kicked the women aside. Startled voices rose from deeper inside.

"What's going on?!"

The door opened and a man in his early fifties wearing a red baseball cap stepped out. Except for the notebook in his hand he looked like he had just wandered over from a fishing hole.

"Who the hell are you?"

Again, words were unnecessary. The young man who had already dropped six people smashed a vicious low kick into the man's thigh. A sickening crack sounded; the man collapsed forward, unable to stay upright.

"What the—?!"

A man clutching a small digital camcorder came out of the room. In the brief glimpse of the interior, a whole Korean-style porn crew was hard at work. What had happened was obvious even without looking. They had decided the nearly incompetent Jin Yu-mi was easy money and were filming a video with her.

Thud!

He took the man with the camera with a high roundhouse kick, then spun and drove an elbow into a younger man who looked like an assistant director. The blows landed with such perfect precision that even a staged fight would never have looked this clean; both men hit the floor and only twitched.

"H-hck… I-I'm sorry! They made me—"

The man on the bed scrambled backward naked, too terrified even to cover himself. A downward axe kick crashed onto his skull and the room fell silent.

"Hic… hic-hic-hic…"

Jin Yu-mi was crying like a child. Not from rage or humiliation—just pain. Ever since her miscarriage the aftereffects had left her wracked with agony every time her period came.

And today, of all days, that period had started. The people who had no idea about any of that had simply sold her to an internet adult video site for cash.

"…"

Han Se-gun looked at the girl crying like a child and let out a long breath.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He couldn't kill the pity.

If he had simply pretended not to notice and walked away, nothing would have changed. So why had he come all this way just to thrash these pathetic humans? Beating them wouldn't heal the hole in the girl's head.

The fluorescent light swayed, scattering light and shadow everywhere. Se-gun steadied it with one hand and glared at the camera.

A Samsung digital camcorder that still used Hi-8mm tape. For the sake of their internet porn site, though, the camera was connected by USB to a laptop.

CRACK!

Se-gun stomped the laptop into scrap metal and pulled Yu-mi to her feet.

"Hic… Se-gun. It hurts. It hurts…"

"…"

Se-gun took out a single capsule of Psychedelic Moon, cracked it open, and held it under Jin Yu-mi's nose. Her throat was already ruined by glue and paint thinner, but without a syringe, mucosal absorption was the only option left.

"…Aaaah."

The strength drained from the body that had been thrashing in pain only moments before. It looked almost like a dying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠person releasing a final breath and finding rest. But this was not rest—it was a plunge into a deeper pit of pleasure and pain.

Jin Yu-mi hung limp in the grip of the hallucination and smiled. It felt as if a multicolored kaleidoscope were spinning right in front of her eyes.

Even as color smeared and reason seemed ready to fly apart, her vision had sharpened; only the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠outlines of objects stayed razor-clear. A vampire's sight, a vampire's senses—to a human they were the purest narcotic imaginable.

Just as vampires felt orgasm while killing humans and drinking their blood, humans used Psychedelic Moon refined from vampire blood to erase pain and drown in pleasure.

Click.

Ignoring Se-gun's attempt to stop her, she switched on the mini component stereo mounted on the wall.

Ironically, the mini component was playing Nirvana's "Rape Me." Mixed with the stereo came the sound of rain.