Welcome to the World of the Mad Moon
“Ah, you're really no fun. Fine, I'll tell you. So I'm a vampire... and that kid Seo Rin is a lycanthrope. Do you know what a lycanthrope is?”
“No.”
“Tsk tsk. If I say werewolf, you'll get it, right?”
“...Vampires are one thing, but there are werewolves too?”
“If there are vampires, it'd be a shame if there weren't werewolves, wouldn't it?”
I don't think this is a matter of feeling left out, though.
Hyuk-jin stared at him, dumbfounded. But the man did have a point. Seo Rin's bottomless strength—did it really come from his birth?
“Ah.”
Suddenly his chest felt wide open, clear as a sky after rain. Why he had never been able to beat the kid—he finally understood the reason.
“...You look remarkably relieved.”
“Yeah. I really am.”
It was pure, unvarnished sincerity. The strange sense of defeat that had dogged him every time he looked at Seo Rin had vanished without a trace. No matter how much of a self-obsessed violence junkie Hyuk-jin was, he never compared himself to a tiger or a lion.
Seo Rin was essentially that kind of predator, and Hyuk-jin had only ever been human. Knowing that left his chest light. Even in a situation where a vampire had him and he could die at any moment—when he should have felt anything but relief—his insides felt at ease. How strange. Seo Rin had taken up that much space inside him...
“So how about it? Becoming a lycanthrope yourself?”
Giovanni Vantero asked it as casually as a salesman offering a free trial of a new water purifier. The content was something no one could simply brush off, yet he said it with that easy air. Hyuk-jin gaped and shot back,
“Me too?”
“You'll never match the ones born as lycanthropes, but raw physical ability climbs past body weight until it becomes hard to control, so it's not like you have zero chance. Hell, looking at pure mindset, a rabid dog like you might even have better odds.”
So these bastards planned to turn Hyuk-jin into a lycanthrope and throw him at Seo Rin. Any normal person would refuse. This was not a fight you accepted in your right mind. They only meant to use him. There was no reason to dance on the palm of people like that.
“So that means you want me to take Seo Rin down.”
“Of course. Interested?”
“And if I say no?”
“Then we deal with you right here.”
Giovanni flicked his fingers. His subordinates hooked their fingers over the triggers of their pistols. Seeing that, Hyuk-jin only smiled.
“Hm?”
Everyone raised their eyebrows, wondering if the guy had lost his mind. Finger on the trigger and he was grinning. Either crazy, or he still didn't understand something. Did he think they couldn't use guns just because this was Korea?
That was when Hyuk-jin opened his mouth.
“Not even leaving me a choice, huh. How thoughtful of you—wiping away any pangs of conscience. All right. I'll become a lycanthrope. Hell, at this point I almost want to beg you for it.”
Accepting the deal meant he would no longer be human. Yet the Hyuk-jin who chose it stood utterly unashamed. Watching someone accept the loss of humanity without a flicker of revulsion, Giovanni whistled.
“Now that's decisive. Bring it.”
He said it, then glanced back at Hyuk-jin.
“In that case... kid, welcome to the world of the mad moon. Go ahead and kill to your heart's content.”
“That's a very generous offer. Thank you.”
Hyuk-jin bowed his head to Giovanni in genuine gratitude.
While staying in Korea, Argon decided to bunk with Rat Gunip and Karen Monty in their rundown apartment. Rat Gunip, Esprit's operative in Korea, was a solidly built Black man with hip-hop dreads; Karen Monty was a scrawny German-American. That pair alone was already odd enough—now a white-haired youth with a ponytail, Argon, was joining them. At this point the neighbors could report them as suspicious on day one and no one would have a defense.
“Some people who aren't even Jinma rent the fanciest hotel suites, and a full-on Jinma is crammed into a dump like this with two other guys? Does that make any sense?”
Rat Gunip needled him with pure disdain, but by that logic Rat himself was a member of the same pathetic faction. Argon looked at him and shook his head.
“When the heart is rich, anywhere is paradise. Quit whining already.”
“At the very least if you'd bought some U.S. Treasury bonds a hundred and fifty years ago we wouldn't be in this mess. Or some Picasso paintings! What's the point of living so long if you're still broke?”
“You need spare cash to save, buy bonds, or collect art in the first place. I've been feeding the kids under me—did I blow it on luxury? Honestly I'd love to try luxury for once! You know I can't even walk past a lottery booth without stopping!”
Argon grabbed Rat by the collar and shook him. He kept shaking until the elevator stopped, then let go. He swept his hair back and snorted.
“Well... we might be short on cash compared to other clans, but when it comes to bloodline I'm the top. I may not look it, but I used to be a king. The Duke of Normandy, the princes of Denmark—they're all my descendants. Among vampires, nobody outranks me in lineage.”
“If every generation has two kids, go back ten generations and 1,024 people share one ancestor. Unless it's direct line, that pedigree isn't worth bragging about. Bill Gates isn't a Bourbon or a Habsburg either. Just being rich is way better.”
Karen took Rat's side this time. Watching Argon romanticize his days as a Viking tribal king while ignoring their current cash crisis made it impossible not to say something unpleasant. Even so, the man pretended not to hear a word.
“I became a vampire so young I never got to have descendants. What a waste. If I'd stayed human I would've built an empire bigger than Alexander or Genghis Khan. Emperor Esga! That legacy would've been remembered forever.”
He said it while blowing a bubble with his gum. Argon had worn many human names—Esga, Knut, Eirik, Dagwen—but his birth name had probably been Esga.
Anyway, a great emperor wearing a baseball cap backward and blowing bubble gum? Completely unimaginable.
“And you would've been dead ages ago.”
“True enough. Kack! So you're that pissed about the money, Rat? Yo, baby! No money? Just do hip-hop! Drop an album. Hits big and you're set for life.”
“...Talking nonsense again.”
Rat muttered and unlocked the apartment door. Inside, junk filled every corner and teddy bears lay scattered everywhere. Argon set his guitar case down by the entrance and looked around.
“What's all this? Sarhyuk fans holding some memorial event? Why so many teddy bears?”
Even though the alchemist Sarhyuk was dead, his notoriety was known to every vampire.
The ruthless vampire hunter who sold vampire blood for cash and, when that wasn't enough, even raised vampires like livestock—Sarhyuk. A werebear who stole the holy relic of the Jinma Juyda and gambled everything on becoming a vampire himself... and won.
But before he could properly fuse with the power or develop his abilities, Han Se-gun killed him. After that, people started calling Han Se-gun another Jinma hunter.
Argon picked up a teddy bear, shook it, and did ventriloquism.
“Grrraaah. I am a very, very scary and terrifying werebear. The father who gave me to his daughter will soon weep tears of blood! Because he's going to have a half-man, half-bear grandson!”
“...”
The way he casually delivered lines that would get bleeped even on the most lenient broadcast was almost frightening. Karen shook his head in despair, but Rat grinned.
“They pay me if I sew the eyes on.”
“Heh. So you're a tycoon now?”
“Talking nonsense again.”
Karen heaved a deep sigh. Rat pointed cheerfully at the bubblegum Argon was still chewing.
“I make about as much as Argon spends on bubblegum in a week.”
“This stuff's cheap! What's your problem?”
Argon flared up as if being called out for spending money on gum was some grave insult.
“This gig doesn't pay much either.”
Karen said it while peeling off his shabby suit.
The old beige checkered suit he had dusted off for the first time in ages looked utterly limp. Elbows patched with leather so it would last longer, cuff buttons long gone so only threads dangled—he looked exactly like a father of six living on unemployment benefits after losing his job.
Karen was already gaunt and gloomy; the effect was pure misery.
Argon dug into his pocket, counted the remaining sticks of gum, then clenched his fist as if making a solemn vow.
“This is pathetic. Should we just rob a bank? I'm pretty sure I could get away with it once or twice.”
“...Forget it.”
“We've held out this long...”
While they traded jokes, Argon suddenly coughed again. Black smoke seeped out from the back of his head once more.
“Gah! Damn it. I really can't stand this. When the hell is this going to heal?”
What Argon had forced into Se-gun was substantial, but the deep-black magic bullet Se-gun had fired back was pure poison to a vampire. The round itself, launched from the magic gun Beast, was already deadly; the curse riding it was relentlessly tenacious.
“The wraiths that cling to Han Se-gun as a side effect of Psychedelic Moon hold deep grudges against vampires. Loading those into a bullet and firing... if a vampire takes the hit, it's fatal. Someone at Argon's level should recover soon enough, though.”
“Hope so, damn it. We traded shots and I came out behind. Unprecedented.”
Argon grumbled and flopped down. Then, as if something occurred to him, he brought his clothes to his nose and sniffed.
“Figures—got soaked in the rain. Total mess. Rat, got any clothes I can change into?”
“My stuff'll be huge on you.”
“Doesn't matter. I'm not feeling great and I'm not running around outside. Just for indoors.”
The wounds Han Se-gun had given him would heal with time, but if Giovanni or his kind showed up in the meantime, even Argon would be in danger. The “Successors” Tetra Anax had created to replace unruly Jinma like Argon—those were enemies even a powerhouse like him had to watch carefully.
“But why'd you just leave that Seo Rin kid alone? You should've dragged him here by force. Lilith's descendant—Tetra Anax is definitely after him. Why would a revolution-loving guy like Argon just walk away?”
“Right? Even if I'm the persuasion type, Argon's usually pure brute force.”
“...Hearing that from Rat of all people makes me want to watch the sunrise and die.”
True to vampire form, he talked about dying while watching the sunrise, then stripped and headed for the bathroom. A moment later he poked his head out the door in shock.
“What the hell is this?! The fish stink is insane. And the whole drain's a bloodbath. Did you guys do some dismemberment murder in here? You kept singing about money and in the end... I knew it.”
“Ah, those are the remains from cleaning crucian carp we caught in the Han River. We were going to steam them. This is what happens when the organization doesn't cover living expenses—we improvise.”
Saying it out loud only made it more pathetic. He had deliberately said it loud enough for Argon, the supposed head of Esprit, to hear—yet Argon showed zero concern.
“Han River fish? Is that even safe to eat? Won't you get heavy-metal poisoning?”
“Look at you worrying about the weirdest things, vampire.”
“Ah, right. Forgot.”
Argon snorted a laugh and turned on the shower.
“Go easy on the water. Water's cheap in Korea, but if we go over the base rate I have no idea how many more doll eyes I'll have to sew on.”
Karen scolded him. Argon's voice floated back through the door, half-hearted.
“Jeez, fine. Stop nagging. Oh right—you asked why I didn't bring Seo Rin?”
“Why?”
“Because you two would start whining about food costs and water bills. Why!? One more mouth and how many more of those dolls would you have to fiddle with?”
All the money complaints had clearly pissed him off. In that instant Karen hurled the doll he was holding.
“...So now you're just going all out, huh?”
“S-sorry. My bad.”
Argon apologized and stepped out of the bathroom. He towel-dried, changed into the clothes Rat had set out, and retied his hair with a band.
“Mm... anyway, that Han Se-gun guy seems to have a bad relationship with Tetra Anax too, so I decided to leave that matter alone. I want Tetra Anax and Han Se-gun to clash—I shouldn't be the one colliding with Han Se-gun first.”
For Jinma Argon—regarded among vampires, alongside Phantom, as one of the absolute last people anyone wanted to face—to say something like that... Rat and Karen couldn't help being startled all over again.
“So the wraiths pouring off Argon right now are the vengeful spirits of dead gamblers? That doesn't count as clashing with Han Se-gun?”
Karen still hadn't cooled off and needled him relentlessly. Argon answered with shameless good humor.
“Call it a small sacrifice. Thanks to it we learned Han Se-gun is no pushover, so it's fine. On the foundation of that sacrifice we can move toward a better future. That's progress. Just a little wound for me, but for our Esprit it's an immeasurably huge...”
At that moment Rat and Karen looked at each other.
“A huge wound here would be a problem.”
“Take wounds like that alone. Don't bring them back to Esprit.”
“...What cold, heartless bastards.”
Argon sighed. The freewheeling atmosphere was nice, but times like this—when the underlings completely disregarded him—made him envy the rigid top-down order of other clans.
Still, changing the system now was something Argon's pride would never allow. He lay back, steadied his breathing, and asked his subordinates,
“So what are Giovanni's people doing? You set up a watch?”