Dream
Once I had gathered every last coin, I was on my way out when the knights came pouring in.
The racket I had made must have given away the slave trader’s location.
Not that it concerned me. I had already vanished and slipped free of the place.
It was strange, walking out so openly while no one registered my presence at all. I even waved a hand right in front of their faces, just to test it—still nothing. They truly could not see me.
Outside, the world remained dark. Dawn had not yet broken.
Walking through the early morning soaked head to toe in blood felt almost dreamlike. Perhaps it was the sweet aftertaste still clinging to every inch of me. Or perhaps I simply was not in my right mind.
Even after more than a year as a monster, the sensation right after devouring a human never grew familiar. My breathing came hard and fast; my face was visibly flushed. I had not particularly enjoyed it, yet the act of consuming a person always left me feeling extraordinarily good. That was why reason slipped so easily while I ate, and why the afterglow lingered long afterward. It must have been something primal—raw instinct, stirred awake.
This time, though, it was far worse than usual. I had always kept my feeding cycle as sparse as possible to keep the hunger suppressed. Two days in a row of human flesh had undone all of that.
"Hah… hah…"
I braced myself against a nearby wall and dragged in ragged breaths. Nothing was wrong with my body. If anything, it was too good—that was the problem. Vitality surged through me in excess. I could not control my strength; anything I gripped simply shattered.
I needed to calm down first.
Just a little more. Please. One more person. No one would even notice…
I was far too worked up. Half my reason had gone numb; coherent thought refused to form. My mind knew better, yet my body still craved.
"Ugh…"
Sleep. That was the answer. Wipe the slate clean, as if nothing had happened—the way I always did.
But where?
Sleeping rough was too risky. Not for me, of course. In this state I simply could not guarantee I would leave passersby alone. And if I ate even one more person now, I was certain I would truly lose control. That could not be allowed.
I needed a place of my own—somewhere quiet, where no one would come looking. The back alleys, as always? They were my favorite: silent, dark, thick with the comforting scent of Magi. But knights might still be on patrol. Running into them looking like this would only invite trouble.
The feverish heat in my body was becoming unbearable. I wanted human blood.
I licked a smear of it from my hand. The sharp, electric tingle on my tongue was almost addictive. His blood had been so sweet. So very sweet.
It only made things worse. A taste that small could never satisfy; it only left me more desperate, heart hammering for more.
So—
Shunk!
I drove a dagger into my own left shoulder. Sharp pain bloomed, and fresh blood painted me redder still. I had already been drenched; now I was simply more so.
"…That’s a little better."
The pain cleared my head somewhat. Mixing my own blood into the mess dulled the appetite as well. Time to find a place to stay.
Money could solve most problems. Finding a house was no exception.
The black market had places that sold abandoned properties for a song—homes whose owners had vanished for one reason or another. With two hundred gold coins on me, it was hardly difficult.
"Hello."
"Wh-what the fuck—"
The purchase itself went smoothly enough, though the sight of me covered head to toe in blood did not exactly earn a warm welcome.
"That… blood… how did you…?"
"Curious?"
"N-no! Never mind!"
Was it the dagger still stuck in my shoulder? That would explain the awkward stares. I had forgotten to pull it out.
I gave it a firm tug. Dark crimson blood fountained out.
"Aaaagh!! Get out! Get the hell out!!"
"…?"
I had the house, so I left.
The new place suited me well enough. Long neglected and filthy, yes—but dark and quiet, just the way I liked it. Best of all, it sat right next to the back alleys where I used to live. The previous owner had said that was exactly why it had been abandoned. No one wanted to live near the alley where a monster was said to appear. He had been eager to offload it cheap.
Seventy gold coins. I ended up paying an extra ten after I accidentally put a hole through his wall.
"Sorry. I broke it."
"How in the world did you even—"
"I leaned on it and it just… gave."
My body was still far from normal. My condition was dangerously good. Was this the true potential of this flesh? It made ordinary life inconvenient; I hoped it would settle soon.
Once inside, I decided to wash first. I stripped completely and stepped into the bathroom.
The first thing that met my eyes, as always, was my reflection in the mirror. Blood-red irises and hair half silver, half crimson stood out sharply. The red was not natural—just dried blood. Cold water rinsed it away at once.
On the outside I look completely human.
Nothing about my appearance suggested a monster. What, then, set me apart from them? I pondered it for a moment.
No—longer than a moment. The thoughts stretched on and on while cold water poured over my head. At this rate I would stand there all day.
"…"
I did not know.
I still did not want to become a monster. I wanted to go back. I hated the way human blood excited me. I was terrified of how easily I had begun to kill without hesitation.
Perhaps because I had never thought this deeply before—or because I kept staring into the mirror, questioning the face that stared back—I finally arrived at a clear diagnosis.
I had not gone mad yet.
I was not a monster yet.
But I was going mad.
But I was becoming a monster.
"…A year ago it wasn’t this bad."
Yes. A year ago things had been different. Back then I had only just possessed this body, and everything still frightened me.
I felt the passage of time settle into my bones as I shut off the water cascading over my head. My mind felt cool enough at last.
Too lazy to dry my long, dripping hair, I simply walked out. I did not towel off. I did not dress. I lay down on the bed just as I was.
The sheets and blanket grew damp beneath me. I did not care. Right now I only wanted to sleep. I was not tired, but I needed the fever in my body to subside.
"Haa…"
The soft press of the blanket against bare skin felt good. I surrendered to the plushness and closed my eyes.
Sleep claimed me almost at once.
And then—
I dreamed.
It was a life that had clawed its way up from the very bottom.
At seven years old I was abandoned by my parents. They had no money left to feed me. Before I was old enough to understand, I was thrown onto the streets—penniless, homeless, starving.
Do you know how ugly a human becomes when hunger drives them to the edge?
I lived on scraps discarded by restaurants. Even that was never enough, so I fought other beggars over the refuse. That was mine. Today I would eat, no matter what. I could endure any filth if it meant staying alive. Every day I prayed to the gods: Please, let me have that garbage tomorrow. Strike down the thugs who beat me. Please, spare me the winter. I never dared ask for a warm house or a proper meal. Just let me keep living in this world.
"Hey! Grab that bastard!"
When even the scraps ran out, I stole bread to survive. The shopkeeper’s furious shout still chilled me. If they caught me they would beat me to death. So I ran for my life. To anyone else it was worthless junk; to me it was worth risking everything.
The bread was so hard my childhood teeth could not chew it. I soaked it in water and forced it down. I lived another day. Maybe I only endured because I lacked the courage to die. But surviving today meant fretting about tomorrow. Luck had favored me once; from now on they would be watching. The same trick would never work twice.
"Fuck…"
If only no one could see me at all. I hated the looks of disgust and contempt. If I could, I would live somewhere no gaze ever reached. I wanted money.
And then—
"Beorn."
Perhaps every tear-soaked prayer had finally reached the gods. One day I discovered I could hide my body.
"You should become a mercenary."
Someone noticed that talent of mine.
And so I became a mercenary.