Spare Parts
Se-geon arrived at Arjuna in the earliest hours of dawn, when the sun still showed no sign of rising. Even the eastern sky remained dark and murky as he took the key from Silvester and carefully opened the basement door of the café.
“Whoa!”
The moment he pushed open the thick alloy fire door, a strange odor—something close to the reek of blood—stabbed at his nostrils. The scent of firearms, the metallic tang of blades, and the layered aromas of black and white magics used in countless spells all mingled into something utterly alien. Was this truly Korea?
Click!
He flipped the light switch, and the lamps flickered slowly to life. Shadows deepened across the warehouse assembled from metal frames, rendering the place even more desolate and unnerving. Then Silvester hopped inside on his remaining leg. The sight of him bouncing along on one limb looked pitiful, yet one glance at the man’s expression made any urge to pity him crawl right back down Se-geon’s throat.
“Good. Let’s find some spare parts, shall we?”
“Spare parts…”
Se-geon stared in horror at Silvester, who spoke so casually despite having lost an entire limb. How could this man not even bleed after tearing off a leg? More to the point—was he even human? Come to think of it, he had surpassed vampires without ever using Psychedelic Moon. Vampires showed no interest in his blood, and he in turn paid no attention to theirs.
“What kind of spare parts?”
“Ah, something like this.”
Silvester rapped a rivet that looked perfectly ordinary among the sash frames. With a low, whirring vibration the floor opened, revealing a staircase descending even deeper.
“Did you get a permit from the district office for this facility?”
“District office permit, my ass.”
Grumbling, Silvester gripped the railing, used his arm as a pivot, and spun himself down into the depths. Below lay objects shaped like human limbs—some even perfectly formed as entire human bodies. Illuminated by the pale fluorescent lights, those limbs were so grotesque that Se-geon flinched to a halt. Then the sound of approaching footsteps reached him.
Click!
Se-geon chambered a round in his Tokarev and fixed his gaze quietly on the door. But when it opened, Kim Seong-hui stepped through. Even at this hour—night, or rather dawn—she wore light sportswear without a single wrinkle out of place.
“What exactly have you been doing wandering around until this hour?”
“Ah, well… Silvester’s leg got cut off.”
“……A leg?”
She wore an expression of keen interest. Silvester’s leg severed—what manner of opponent could have managed that? The curiosity was purely professional; there was no concern for Silvester himself. From the look of it, the man had lost limbs more times than one could count.
“Last time Juk-yo left you patched together like a rag doll. Who was it this time?”
“Phantom.”
“Hmm.”
Kim Seong-hui allowed herself a faint smile and turned her gaze on Se-geon. Under that look, he felt a sudden chill of dread.
“Ah, I didn’t get a good look myself.”
“Mm. No… I was just thinking you somehow managed to come back alive from a place where the Jinma Phantom was involved.”
“Well, he didn’t seem inclined to kill—”
He broke off mid-sentence as Silvester came walking up the stairs. At some point the man had healed—no, attached—a new leg. Silvester dusted off a chair beside the warehouse and sat down. His movements remained awkward, the limb not yet fully responsive, yet it was unmistakably a leg.
“Hmm. The synchronization isn’t taking. Se-geon.”
“Yes?”
“On the display case above the rack of knives near the entrance, there’s a gold-colored knife and an elixir. Bring them.”
“Yes.”
Se-geon retrieved the small golden knife and the elixir from the case as instructed. Silvester used the elixir to draw concentric circles on the floor and inscribed the names of angels in Hebrew. Then he dipped the blade into the elixir and began carving geometric sigils and characters into the flesh of his own leg.
“What are you doing?”
“Who knows? Running an occult shop doesn’t mean you know everything, right? Ah—I think it would be best if we gave him some space.”
With that, Kim Seong-hui brushed Se-geon’s hair back from his forehead. Startled by the bold gesture, he followed her out of the warehouse in a fluster.
“You’re not particularly surprised.”
Se-geon found himself saying the words to Kim Seong-hui. She walked so calmly ahead of him, switching on the café lights, setting water to boil, roasting coffee beans—that he suddenly wanted to ask. How could she accept all of this so easily?
A man reattaching severed limbs and tattooing himself because the new one wouldn’t move properly… She seemed entirely accustomed to such sights. She didn’t look that old, either. Could she, too, be something like Silvester?
“Ah… well, I’m used to it.”
Kim Seong-hui answered with a lonely little smile. Her heart did not seem entirely at ease either.
“You be careful as well, Se-geon. Once you catch a Jinma’s eye, things rarely end quietly.”
“Is that so? Ah—then I’ll be going.”
“Just leaving? Stay for a coffee at least.”
“No, thanks. I’ll come back later for that. I should get some sleep soon.”
Se-geon offered her a smile and left Arjuna behind.
Yangpyeong Motel Gas Explosion Claims Twenty-One Casualties
The A Motel in Yangpyeong, Gyeonggi Province, was destroyed in a sudden blast that killed every guest. Autopsy results confirmed an LNG gas explosion.
Unbelievable. They cleaned it up perfectly.
The Jinma Phantom found himself speechless at how thoroughly the incident had been tidied away. Of course he was the direct beneficiary of Tetra Anax’s machinations and in no position to complain, yet the sheer speed and completeness of it—how many memories rewritten, how much information rewritten—made him feel the terror of Tetra Anax all over again. Until now most of the events had occurred before Tetra Anax fully settled in Korea, so lapses in control had sometimes shown. Now, however, they could freely manipulate human eyes, minds, and memories.
“This is going too far.”
Phantom set the newspaper down. Even as the beneficiary of Tetra Anax’s information control, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. What right did they have to rummage through other people’s brains, erase memories, and bury or fabricate incidents at will? He himself had wiped a few minds, true, but he could never approve of Tetra Anax’s systematic manipulation of humanity.
“Still… cleaning it up this fast means there were other players nearby.”
Phantom clicked his tongue and leaned back against the sheets. The stock market was already crashing; he had no spare attention for such matters. Yet he had no intention of simply tolerating Tetra Anax’s high-handedness either.
“Agni alone clearly isn’t enough.”
He stretched while gazing at the window. Blackout blinds sealed it against every ray of sunlight, yet he threw them wide open. Ordinary vampires lost one point of VT every six seconds under sunlight until death claimed them. Jinma, protected by far stronger defenses, suffered only negligible VT loss even under light that would be fatal to lesser vampires.
“And as for this woman… Lee Jeong-ah. What’s become of her?”
He looked at the file on the desk and let out a sigh. With the power of Tetra Anax, which held hegemony over the vampires, they would have found her long ago if they truly wanted her. What Tetra Anax truly desired was for those who might challenge their hegemony to reveal themselves on this opportunity.
Rrrring…
“Yes. What is it?”
“Good day, sir. I sent the report regarding the matter you commissioned earlier. Have you received it?”
“Hmm. You sent it by email?”
Still holding the receiver, he walked back to the computer and sat down. The woman who had once held the human identity of Lee Jeong-ah was immune to sorcerous methods of search as a Jinma.
Hmm…
Scanning the investigation file, Phantom clicked his tongue. Legally she was listed as a missing person. Naturally her bank accounts were frozen, and she never went near her family. Beyond that, for the past two years she had never once fed—there was no trace of her in any of the necrosis cases or disappearances that were clearly the work of vampires.
That was precisely why she had stayed out of other vampires’ sight for so long. But there had to be a limit. Phantom focused on the fact that she was a young and beautiful woman. Young, beautiful women did not end up homeless on the streets. Moreover she was extraordinarily, eye-catchingly beautiful.
So he had put people into the entertainment districts and commissioned the job to violent organizations and private investigators.
“The enemy faction has been applying pressure.”
Yet that line of inquiry had been blocked by pressure from the gangs. Zein of the Vanishing Blood clan had clearly already put in a word. On top of that, they were using a man named Kato Haruhiko to search for her through the broadcasting stations.
A troublesome bastard.
Zein’s method was to search through Korea’s criminal underworld and the mass media. Fortunately programs of the “Looking for So-and-So” variety—unlike the old separated-family reunions—were only aired once the person was found. Still, their analysis said that after this Wednesday the segment would go out even if she remained unfound.
“Hmm… Fine. Understood. Looks like Vanishing Blood needs a little discipline.”
“Ah, but the private investigators and the gangs are clamoring for the balance of the payment.”
“What?”
“Well… they’re thugs to begin with, so they don’t distinguish between deposits and final payments.”
The voice on the other end of the line sounded awkward. The Jinma Phantom turned the matter over in his mind for a moment. Of course they wanted money. He had no influence over them in the first place, and with Vanishing Blood—who controlled the pure-blood yakuza group Takamura-gumi—now involved, that route was closed.
The balance isn’t much, but if I just hand it over they’ll start looking down on me.
Although he was no Protestant, the Jinma Phantom possessed a puritanical corporate ethos and had no intention of yielding to unreasonable demands. The problem was that the other party was a violent organization. Approaching them to use them in the first place had already been against Phantom’s principles.
“Is that so? Don’t pay the balance.”
“What if they make a scene?”
“Any thug with half a brain won’t dare. It’s obvious who’s stronger. But if they even look like they’re about to open their mouths, handle it as you see fit.”
Phantom gave the cold order and hung up. On the computer display, footage of Kato Haruhiko was playing. Scenes from his fights in Japanese valitudo and the like made one wonder whether the man was a vampire. Indeed every match took place in indoor arenas sealed against sunlight, and only at night; a black trailer bearing his initials appeared at every venue.
“A vampire.”
Phantom concluded as much. Kato Haruhiko’s unbroken string of victories suddenly made sense. He sometimes took blows on purpose to entertain the crowd, yet when the time came to finish an opponent he won with a single clean strike. The victories were so pure they could almost be called unscripted drama, carrying the long-held grudge of the Japanese martial arts world that had been forced to surrender champion titles to foreigners. In any case he was a fighter with a clear sales point, boasting fans not only in Japan but across the world.
If a man like that came to Korea looking for a beauty of that caliber, rumors were bound to spread. In fact, talent agencies that had seen her photograph had already put people on the search.
“At present Vanishing Blood has the highest chance of finding her first.”
He scrolled down Kato Haruhiko’s file. Several incidents that appeared related to vampires were listed there.
“Hmm… a motorcycle?”
Recalling the young hunter who had charged him on a bike the night before required no special leap of association.
“Well then, shall I head out?”
He slipped on a pure-white coat and sunglasses. To find the Jinma Jeong-ya, he would need to settle accounts with things he had ignored until now.