Annihilation Before Departure
As the dog days of summer finally began to ease and the worst of the heat broke, the Jinma Argon and two officers of Esprit finished every last scrap of business they had in Korea and resolved to leave the country for good. Plenty of tempting work still lingered here, but they could not stay tangled up in this place forever.
Honestly, Argon and Rat Gunip were the entirety of Esprit’s fighting strength; it was no exaggeration. The rest were mostly useless, so if Argon and Rat didn’t move, nothing got done at all.
“Still, living abroad wasn’t all bad, right? Looking back, there must be some good memories in there somewhere.”
Argon grinned as he glued the last eye onto a teddy bear in the shabby apartment. Rat saw it and snorted a laugh of his own.
“Monty’s never going to agree with that.”
There was no way a foreign life of sewing doll eyes just to cover living expenses could be fun. Anyone who enjoyed that sort of thing must have been a sewing machine in a past life, not a human being.
“Well, even when we get back to America, Monty’s still going to be stuck behind a supermarket register, right? Sewing doll eyes or ringing up groceries—same difference.”
“Ahahaha!”
Rat and Argon slapped each other’s shoulders, cackling. In the cramped kitchen, Monty—who had just been balancing the household ledger—flashed a dangerous light behind his glasses.
“Shut up!”
“Y-yes… sorry.”
Argon raised both hands in apology. At moments like this it was hard to tell who the actual clan lord was. They finished packing up what little household goods remained in the old apartment. They had never really owned much, so most of it was the kind of junk you slap a bulk-trash sticker on and dump in the communal lot. Of course there was a collection fee… but they wouldn’t need to pay it. By the time city hall came around complaining, they would already be on a plane to America.
Public order mattered, sure, but skipping out on the tax and walking away free felt like a win, so Argon and Rat exchanged a sly grin.
“You tax-evading bastard.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“When we get back I’m hitting the casino slots first thing. Buying the plane tickets left the budget razor-thin.”
“Anyway… how about we go play bingo instead?”
“That works too.”
Watching them scheme less-than-legal ways to make money, Monty let out a long sigh. The real problem right now was whether they could even make it home in one piece.
“Argon. Word is our information got leaked to Han Se-gun through that Sa Jun guy or whatever his name is.”
For all his whining, Monty was well-versed in the underworld’s information networks; he had even hacked the vampire hunter net from a nearby PC bang. Back when he still belonged to a proper vampire clan he had held an engineering doctorate and an accountant’s license—something of an elite, in other words. And now that same man couldn’t land a decent job and was stuck working a supermarket register…
All because Tetra Anax refused to properly establish their identities. Forced to work under forged social security numbers, even the most capable among them could never land legitimate employment. That was how Tetra Anax kept every vampire clenched in its fist.
Opposing that tyranny was the very ideology of Esprit. Then again, when you thought about it, Tetra Anax had no obligation to cleanly paper the identities of a vampire faction that openly rebelled against them.
“Argon! Do you have a plan for Mr. Han’s attack?”
“Ah, right.”
Argon snapped back to the present and pulled out his gun. It was a single-shot rifle Maria had made for him on request. Calling it a rifle was almost embarrassing—it was chambered for 30 mm Oerlikon naval shells, so the breech end was absurdly wide.
“You’re not seriously going to fire that thing, are you?”
It was the kind of weapon that made you worry about what happened after you pulled the trigger. Even for a vampire the recoil would be brutal, and the accuracy was doubtful at best. The idea of lugging around a ship-mounted Oerlikon cannon and firing it by hand was pure Argon. A Barrett alone was more than enough to one-shot most vampires or lycanthropes, yet he insisted on this ridiculous piece of hardware.
“I named it the Orycon Chart. Uses Oerlikon shells, so Orycon Chart.”
When Argon said it with a completely straight face, Monty broke out in a cold sweat.
“That… sounds weirdly familiar.”
“Heh. Jealous of my overflowing creative genius, are you? This isn’t plagiarism or parody! It’s pure original invention.”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.”
Monty grumbled and nodded. Orycon Chart, Billboard Chart—it didn’t matter, as long as the thing could stop Han Se-gun’s attack.
“You’re not seriously planning to take that through the airport, are you?”
Honestly, for most gear it was cheaper just to ditch it and buy new once they reached America. Firearms couldn’t clear airport security in the first place. Argon’s longsword could be stored in his barrier space, so that was fine, but even a mage as skilled as Argon was weak at barrier-space techniques; one longsword was the limit.
“I’ll carry it as far as the airport, hand the longsword off to a courier there, and stash this gun in the barrier space. I’ve already thought it through.”
“Mm. That’s a relief, then.”
Monty exhaled as if a weight had lifted. He acknowledged that Han Se-gun was a formidable vampire hunter, but he didn’t believe the man could take on both Argon and Rat Gunip at the same time. Of course Se-gun’s bombs were dangerous. Even the finest vampire couldn’t dodge a blast that generated a Mach 6 shockwave.
But… would he really launch bombs at an airport bus? Even a man as unhinged as Han Se-gun wouldn’t casually slaughter civilians. It wasn’t out of any tender regard for human life; under the banner of “kill every last vampire,” killing humans simply wouldn’t be tolerated.
“Han Se-gun will probably come at us with a gunfight this time. But I’ve got a gun of my own.”
“Calling that a gun is generous.”
“Well, I’ve got this too.”
Argon drew a heavy Desert Eagle from the small of his back. In a world crawling with lycanthropes, vampires, and hunters juiced on Psychedelic Moon, it was one of the most practical handguns around.
“Either way, the idea is to hit him where he least expects it. Hmm… I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this with Han Se-gun. His obsession really is something else.”
Argon sighed and racked the slide of the Desert Eagle, checking the chamber.
Because Argon refused Tetra Anax’s protection, he lacked the clean identity other Jinma enjoyed. A ghost without a nationality needed a broker who could forge papers if he wanted to leave the country.
Of course Korea was crawling with brokers who arranged illegal entry and exit, mostly for undocumented workers. That kind of business was not something a vampire like Argon could use. Unlike the usual Southeast Asian laborers, Argon was a northern European with excellent Korean, a clean appearance, and a high level of education. Ordinary brokers took one look and ran the other way.
They either suspected a sting or simply foresaw too much trouble. Just last year an ICBM guidance engineer who had fled Ukraine had been caught trying to slip into Japan; ever since, Interpol’s undercover operations had grown ferocious.
The world of the moonlit night was built on four pillars: hunters, vampires, lycanthropes, and mages. Binding them together was a tight network of blood brokers and fixers—men who turned vampire blood into cash, brokers who handled illegal border crossings, transporters who moved weapons, and the like.
In Korea, however, that network had collapsed. Han Se-gun killed every vampire he laid eyes on, creating a monopoly that left other brokers with nowhere to stand.
Under those conditions, the only channel left for Argon was obvious.
“Still, you’ve got some nerve. Making me hand over this kind of information for free. Even if I am a little sweet on you.”
Sa Jun twirled the phone cord while speaking to the man on the other end. The man was Han Se-gun—currently the only hunter in Korea single-handedly taking on every vampire left in the country. He had already been stained deep by the dark, yet he still tried to fulfill a hunter’s duty. That was why he could make the insane claim that he would face Argon alone.
“Tch!”
The man on the line, enraged by Sa Jun’s oily tone, hung up. But Sa Jun had already fed him every critical piece of the information. Han Se-gun wouldn’t need more than that.
“Are you sure it’s wise to be that generous?”
The young man guarding Sa Jun asked. Sa Jun, seated on the wooden platform, gazed out at the dog kennel. He had just finished feeding them lunch; the dogs were jammed against their bowls, crunching kibble with single-minded focus. Watching them, Sa Jun grinned.
“What of it? I never mentioned that I sold the same information to someone else. Perfect, right? I make money and my credibility slowly tanks. I won’t be able to keep this racket going much longer. Time to get back to the main job, don’t you think?”
He spoke of his “main job.” His subordinates had been waiting for that day, yet his total lack of contingency planning left them wanting to throw up their hands.
“And if he ends up dying?”
One of them asked carefully. Sa Jun remained unfazed.
“Then I just tell myself I used someone else’s blade to avenge my brother.”
Governing the entire world with nothing but thoughts—now that was the bearing of a true gentleman. Of course, for the people riding in the same boat, it felt like their guts were twisting into knots. If he lived alone, that leisurely attitude might be fine; when others shared his fate, it was a problem.
“And if he doesn’t die?”
They already knew what answer was coming, but hope made them ask again. Once more the reply arrived wrapped in a gentleman’s dignity.
“Then I’ve still got nothing to lose, have I?”
That was the kind of man he was. That was their leader. They all exhaled long, heavy sighs. Somewhere in the distance they could almost hear the sound of destinies tangling into an unholy knot.
“By the way, it’s still quiet. Looks like he doesn’t know about that yet.”
“Yes. Probably not.”
They watched Sa Jun and traded uneasy glances. Sa Jun simply smiled, clearly looking forward to whatever would happen next.
“I’ll have it delivered tomorrow morning.”
“Tch!”
Han Se-gun hung up the instant he heard Sa Jun’s mocking voice. One way or another, it seemed true that Argon and the rest of Esprit were leaving Korea tomorrow. He had spent more than a year hunting the vampires still remaining in the country one by one. Only the big names were left. Once he crushed them, if Tetra Anax still refused to move, he intended to head for the continent in search of Lilith and to unlock Seo Rin’s sealed memories. Even so, the vampires still in Korea needed to be thoroughly cleaned up.
Especially the Jinma Argon—he could not be allowed to slip away. Some might wonder why not simply let him leave, but Han Se-gun’s combat philosophy was annihilation, pure and simple.
Inflicting maximum losses on the enemy improved the overall strategic picture. That had been the basic doctrine of the old Soviet army—a doctrine befitting a nation that had accepted twenty million casualties through sheer mass in the Second World War. The idea that reducing the enemy’s numbers turned tactical victories into strategic ones suited Se-gun perfectly: a man whose ambition was to wipe out every creature of the moonlit night and end the world of the mad moon.
Under that doctrine of annihilation, Argon had to die before he left Korea.
Just then Se-gun felt a strange gaze brush his skin. He turned his head and found Seo Rin wearing a meaningful little smile. Apparently he had overheard Sa Jun’s nonsense about “being sweet on you.” Looking at the brat who bounced right back the moment you stopped beating him half to death, Se-gun felt exhausted.
“One more word out of you and you get to sample the suicide three-piece set for the bargain price of thirty-nine thousand eight hundred won.”
The suicide three-piece set meant falling, hanging, and poison. Sadly, Seo Rin possessed enough vitality to survive all three. If the kid had been the type to die from a light slap, Se-gun could never have treated him so roughly.
“That’s so mean, hyung. What did I even do?”
“Shut up and get ready. Or should I go alone? Argon and Rat Gunip aren’t pushovers.”
“Do we really have to kill them? They helped us before.”
Seo Rin was not a stranger to Argon. He liked the easygoing Jinma. Argon had saved his life when Giovanni attacked, and Seo Rin was personally fond of him.
Even so, Han Se-gun had no intention of letting Argon leave Korea alive. When Seo Rin had been rescued from Giovanni’s hands, Se-gun himself had benefited from Argon’s intervention—yet that changed nothing.
“Whatever else he is, he’s a Jinma. He may look peaceful now, but the number of people he had to devour to stabilize his VT that high is enormous. You understand? The power, authority, and prestige they enjoy sit on a mountain of human bones too vast to count.”
It was a philosophy worthy of a communist revolutionary. The premise that everything a capitalist owned had been stolen from the workers had driven communists to wreck industry and then spend nearly a century cleaning up the mess. Han Se-gun, however, seemed to give such considerations no thought at all. His strategy and tactics rested on annihilation; his ideology was pure proletarian… Se-gun still seemed to be living in a pre-1990 world.
Even if the past was stained, if a man was kind now, did the old sins still demand that much blood? And if one started tallying sins, was Han Se-gun himself free of them? Yet Se-gun’s resolve was absolute. He strapped TNT bars to British military webbing, packed detonating cord and plenty of ammunition, and of course did not forget to restock the Beast’s shells.
From their previous clash Se-gun had concluded that hand-to-hand combat against Argon was a losing proposition. At close and mid-range Argon was nearly invincible. His sword was both strong and fast, and at mid-range he sprayed freezing shells.
Behind that pretty face was a man born a Viking prince who had already cut down hundreds while still human, and who had never neglected his training after becoming a vampire. If other vampires were paper tigers, Argon was a tiger with wings. Without guns and explosives Se-gun might win the fight and still not walk away. He would need every tool he possessed.
“Still, hyung alone will have a hard time, won’t he?”
Seo Rin remembered how Se-gun had spent two full days in a bathtub driving out the cold after fighting Argon. That was how powerful an enemy Argon was. And if the black man called Rat Gunip was anywhere near that strong, Se-gun had no chance of victory unless Seo Rin helped. Facing one of them was already brutal; having a second attached like a tumor made it worse. Seo Rin himself was little more than a tumor on Se-gun’s side, but at least a tumor could fight another tumor, couldn’t it?
“If your heart’s only half in it, I don’t need your help.”
Han Se-gun’s words were flat and final.
Since Hyuk-jin’s death, Seo Rin had thrown himself back into training with Giovanni Vantero as his target. Thanks to that, he had finally broken through his shell. If Seo Rin could simply tie up Rat Gunip for a while, Se-gun and Argon could settle things between them. But would it really go that way? Could kind-hearted Seo Rin truly betray the goodwill of the very people who had once rescued him?
If not, Seo Rin would only get in the way. In chess terms Seo Rin was the king. He was a child of Lilith—the single most valuable card in Han Se-gun’s entire hand. That card could not be thrown half-heartedly in front of vampires.
“Honestly… I don’t want either Argon or you to die.”
“A little too honest.”
Han Se-gun gritted his teeth. What the hell was this idiot thinking? He couldn’t understand him at all. Didn’t want Argon to die? If Se-gun actually killed Argon, was the kid planning to interfere? What was anyone supposed to do with half-measures like that? And to say it right to Han Se-gun’s face—that he didn’t want Argon to die. Even if the man had once saved him, Seo Rin should have known better than to let those words leave his mouth.
“But… if I’m going to help, I’ll help you, hyung.”
Despite everything, Seo Rin said he would help Han Se-gun. Se-gun looked at the boy who had just spoken those words and felt hollow.
“Raising kids is a waste of effort, they always say.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
Han Se-gun grumbled and stood. As long as Seo Rin could keep Rat Gunip’s feet tied, he wouldn’t become a liability. And Se-gun was certain of one thing: he had no confidence he could face both Rat Gunip and Argon at the same time. The only question left was how far he could trust Seo Rin.