Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Rag Ghost (2)
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Neia, a half-elf prostitute.
Today was a truly unlucky day for her.
She was supposed to have the day off, but a hole in the schedule forced her to come in.
A drunkard on the street ruined a perfectly good set of clothes.
A rude coworker stole her favorite hair ornament.
Any one of these things would have been enough to ruin her day, but they happened one after another.
For someone with her delicate nerves, the stress was overwhelming.
And that wasn't even the end of it.
The final straw came as the day was ending.
A handsome client visited the establishment for the first time in a while.
He was reasonably tall with pale skin.
An innocent-looking face and casual clothes.
Being a quarter-elf herself, she had high aesthetic standards.
But this man's looks just barely made the cut.
The man, perhaps noticing her long ears and realizing she was a half-elf.
Chose her without much hesitation.
Only to suddenly be dragged into a secluded alley and told he was going to pull off her fingers.
She was on the verge of losing her mind.
She wanted to curse the world and ask why this was happening to her.
"Seriously... Didn't you say you'd do anything I liked? So pulling off a finger should be fine, right? Why are you so picky for a whore?"
The dead end of a sticky, filthy back alley.
Tears streamed down Neia's face at her pitiful situation.
This was the kind of place where a corpse or two wouldn't raise any eyebrows.
But she didn't want to die. She didn't want to be in pain.
*Please, let this be a dream.*
She prayed.
She had never once believed in the existence of a god.
But in this moment, she desperately wished for one to exist.
Did her prayers reach the heavens?
Her vision blurred with tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them, a bundle of dirty rags had suddenly appeared before her.
"Huh? Wh-what?"
It was bewildering.
If it had fallen from the sky, there would have been a sound or a gust of wind.
And for it to have appeared from somewhere else... the alley was a dead end, blocked on all sides except for the path the man was blocking.
No matter how she thought about it, the appearance of the bundle of rags was so unnatural it felt unreal.
It was as if she had encountered a ghost.
*Wait... a ghost? Come to think of it, I think one of my clients mentioned something like that...*
The surprise momentarily suppressed her fear, allowing Neia to think rationally.
She recalled a vague conversation she'd had with a client.
*'Huh? Why do I have this bruise on my forehead? ...I don't know.'*
*'What?'*
*'Was it yesterday? I was making my usual collections when some punk started bugging me. I was about to teach him a lesson and send him on his way, but then some ghost-like thing suddenly appeared next to me... I don't remember anything after that. It's like I got hit in the back of the head with a steel pipe. When I woke up, all I had was this bruise on my forehead.'*
The client in Neia's memory had said this, scratching his head with a puzzled expression.
As far as she knew, that client was quite strong.
A werewolf who could easily fold a normal human in half even without transforming.
Was it because of the distinct bruise on such a strong client's forehead?
She understood that this "ghost" was extremely dangerous.
And at the same time, Neia intuitively sensed that this small bundle of rags was connected to that ghost.
"What's this filthy thing? A kid... doesn't look like it. A goblin? You should know your place before you interfere."
But unlike Neia, did the man feel no sense of unease?
He seemed merely annoyed at being interrupted.
He tapped his foot on the ground with a very displeased expression.
No, perhaps seeing his exposed hand trembling as if holding something back.
It seemed he was using all his might to suppress some kind of impulse.
"Those bastards, boasting they wouldn't let a single rat slip through... Ah, whatever. You can just die with her."
The man's patience, who had been muttering to himself with his head down, snapped.
When he lifted his head again, his eyes were stained as red as blood.
As a prostitute, Neia had experience dealing with various metahumans.
Thus, she could guess why the man had wanted to pull off her fingers.
*A va-vampire!*
That was it.
The man was a vampire, a race treated as particularly dangerous even in Nighthaven.
In a world where magic was severely restricted due to the scarcity of mana in the atmosphere.
Vampires used blood as a medium for magic, allowing them to bypass some of those restrictions.
What he wanted was her blood—a bit lower in quality, but undeniably elven.
Pulling off her fingers was simply an act that suited his tastes.
"I'll rip you to shreds, filthy rags and all!"
The man bit his own lip, drawing blood.
Neia flinched reflexively.
She didn't know how pure-blooded this vampire was.
But even the weakest vampire was a monster capable of easily tearing a mere half-elf apart.
As a weakling who couldn't even use magic properly, she couldn't help but be terrified.
"Kehehehek! Die! Di—"
*Smack!*
Before the man could finish his sentence.
A sound like the crack of a whip swung with full force echoed through the alley.
Startled, Neia's body jumped and then settled.
Her heart pounded, her mind went dizzy, and her gaze fell upon...
...the man collapsing, the whites of his eyes showing.
"Huh? Wha?"
What? What just happened?
Neia stared with wide eyes at the man sprawled on the ground.
He had gone completely limp.
The man lay on the ground, drooling, the whites of his eyes still visible.
The bundle of dirty rags, the ghost, approached the fallen man.
Only then did she realize the ghost had taken him down.
*A vampire, in a single blow...? It-it really is that ghost!*
Neia screamed silently.
A vampire was already a monster on a different level from her.
But a ghost that could subdue such a vampire in an instant?
No matter how she looked at it, there was no way she could survive.
She couldn't even tell how the ghost had taken the man down.
By the time she registered the loud noise, the vampire was already collapsing.
It seemed to be the same method used on that werewolf client...
An attack the opponent couldn't even perceive—it was the very definition of terror.
*I-I don't want to die!*
Am I next?
As Neia thought this, trembling in terror.
The ghost, having approached the man, seemed to have finished its business.
It turned and came toward her.
It was getting closer, but there were no footsteps.
This unknown being, growing more terrifying with every new detail, finally stopped right in front of Neia.
Just as Neia began to vaguely consider a drastic choice.
A pale hand emerged from the bundle of rags and offered her something.
"Hyaak! Th-this is... a ring?"
What the ghost offered Neia was none other than her own ring.
The ring the man had taken from her just before saying he would pull off her fingers.
It seemed the ghost had retrieved it from the man's pockets.
Half out of her mind, Neia had no choice but to accept it.
*Wha... wow, its hand is really soft.*
For a moment, Neia thought about how soft and plush the ghost's hand felt as they touched.
In a state of confusion, she stared blankly at the ring now in her hand.
When she looked up again, the ghost was nowhere to be seen.
"Was it... a dream?"
In the alley, there was only the vampire, unconscious on the ground.
And a half-dazed Neia.
Her life had clearly been saved.
But her mind was filled with nothing but inexplicable confusion.
***
Perched on a rooftop railing with a clear view of the distant skyscrapers.
I opened the wallet I'd taken from the man I'd knocked out with a psychokinetic flick and thought.
*Hmm... this one's not so great either.*
Two failures in a row.
Is it a trend not to carry cash these days?
For bullying someone who seemed mentally unwell, the results were far from satisfying.
*His hands were shaking, and his eyes were bloodshot. He must have been a drug addict. Poor guy.*
Even if drug addiction messes with your mind regardless of your willpower, it couldn't be helped.
It was a hundred times better than creating an innocent victim.
I took just enough cash to buy a few pieces of bread and casually tossed the wallet away.
The thought of it being a drug addict's wallet just felt... icky.
*Anyway. That's the first time I've seen an elf. Her ears were so pointy. How fascinating.*
Rather than dwelling on the unsettling memory of the drug addict.
I decided to replay the image of the elf I'd just seen in my mind.
She must have been terrified by the addict's rampage; she was still trembling when I approached.
So, I had no choice but to return her ring to reassure her that everything was okay now.
*I accidentally showed her my hand... but it should be fine.*
Hoping that the pretty elf girl wouldn't get caught up in something like this again.
I took out the various rings that, for some reason, had been stuffed in the pockets of the man I'd knocked out.
If there's no cash, goods will have to do.
Looks like I'll have to stop by a jewelry shop today.