Scars Laid Bare
The hot water wrapped around my bare skin. It stung—the water seeped into every wound, burning with a savage, searing pain. “Ugh…”
Even so, I kept my brow furrowed and let myself feel the strange, almost ecstatic relief. After the cold, hungry dampness of the trenches, this was pure luxury. “…Sorry. I’m sorry.”
I told myself the stinging was guilt for the comrades I had sent ahead of me, and I poured the scalding water over my scar-covered body. “Hngh…!”
Blood soon began to well up and wash away in pink rivulets. It was hot, agonizing, unbearable; tears stung my eyes. Yet I stubbornly kept washing. I worked the clotted blood from my matted hair, lathered shampoo through it, then conditioner. Only when the water ran clear did I step out.
It still hurt. The bandages and plasters I’d once worn had long since been torn away by months of running across battlefields instead of receiving proper care. “Tss…!”
I hissed through my teeth and began the careful work of disinfecting, applying ointment, and rewrapping the worst of the wounds. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to what my subordinates had endured while dying.
I had just finished smoothing on the last of the ointment and was rummaging for clothes—still naked—when a knock sounded at the door.
I meant to ask who it was, but the voice came first.
“Major, it’s me.”
Before I could answer, I heard a hand close around the doorknob.
“Come in.”
“…!?”
Eryk pushed the door open without waiting. He had already washed and changed; his uniform was immaculate, every crease sharp. I didn’t freeze. I snapped to attention and saluted at once.
“Loyalty.”
“……”
He simply stood there, staring, forgetting to return the salute. Then his eyebrows twitched. In the space of a heartbeat he spun on his heel and fled.
The door slammed with a sound like artillery fire.
“…Major!! If you aren’t wearing clothes, you are supposed to say so!”
I stared at the closed door. He had been the one to barge in and look his fill; now he was scolding me?
“…It wasn’t a pleasant sight anyway,” I muttered.
My body was plain and small, covered in ugly scars. Every time I saw them, the memories of how I had earned them crawled up my throat like bile. I gave a vague reply and quickly pulled on my clothes.
“I’m sorry for showing you something unsightly. My body is hideous… forgive me.”
Embarrassed that he had been forced to look at it, I stepped out into the hallway.
“Haa…”
Eryk stood with his brow deeply furrowed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled. It seemed the sight of me had disgusted him more than I thought.
“…I’m sorry. For showing you my hideous body.”
He looked down at me with a terrifying expression. His right hand slowly rose above my head. This was definitely going to be a slap. I braced myself.
…It’s fine. I earned it.
I waited for the blow, but it never came.
Instead, his fingers gave my cap a gentle, encouraging tap.
“Get a hold of yourself. If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me.”
His voice was unexpectedly soft.
“…Yes?”
“I’m sorry. Are you all right?”
“……”
“Did it shame you? I’ll apologize again.”
He dropped to one knee, hands settling carefully on my shoulders. The sudden gentleness left me blinking in confusion.
…What’s gotten into him today?
He must have taken too much of my blood and addled his own brain. Still puzzled, I trailed after his retreating back.
“Wait, let’s go togeth—!”
“…Keep your distance for now.”
He vanished down the corridor without another word. I watched him go and muttered, half to myself, “Why is that idiot acting so strange?”
It wasn’t the sort of thing one should say about a superior officer, but he was already too far away to hear. It didn’t matter.
Eryk had opened the door without a second thought.
Five years of military life had drilled certain habits into his bones. Baths were five minutes, ten at the most. He had waited a full fifteen because Valentine was a woman, assuming that would be enough time for her to finish.
Even if she’s a woman, she’s a soldier. A hero. Fifteen minutes should have been plenty.
That was what he had believed.
He could never have guessed that she had been torturing herself in the shower, turning a simple wash into something heartbreaking.
Because of that, Eryk had seen everything.
“…Ah.”
“…!?”
“Loyalty…”
He had taken in the sight of her small, scar-riddled, utterly naked body. For five full seconds his mind simply stopped working, overloaded. Then Valentine—still completely bare—had calmly offered him a crisp salute, and reality crashed back in.
Naked?!
He had bolted from the room faster than he ever moved in combat and slammed the door behind him.
The crash echoed down the entire imperial corridor.
Yet the thunder of his own heartbeat drowned it out. His chest hurt from how violently his heart was pounding.
“…How the hell is a vampire so calm about saluting while completely naked?!”
He scowled, face burning. He had even snapped at her to announce herself next time, as if the fault were hers. Irritated, he leaned against the wall, leg jittering, tongue clicking, fingers restlessly turning an unlit cigarette over and over.
Nothing helped.
“…Valentine… naked…”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Horrified at himself, he slapped his own cheek hard.
“…I’ve gone insane. Completely insane.”
Rubbing his stinging face, Eryk slid down the wall until he was crouched alone in the quiet hallway. He clutched at his chest, trying to calm the frantic drumbeat inside it, and let out a long, shaky breath.
If he wasn’t careful, he was going to acknowledge it. The feeling he had never experienced in his entire life.
“…Get a grip, Eryk.”
He was already carrying crushing guilt for not killing her. If he started seeing her as a woman on top of that—
“I won’t be able to face my family… There’d be no justification for sending my men to their deaths…”
He bit his lip until it bled, using the sharp pain and metallic taste to anchor himself. Only when the cold clarity of pain spread through him did his racing mind finally begin to cool.
At that exact moment, the door opened again and Valentine peeked out.
Eryk had been about to apologize, but her first words stopped him cold.
“I’m sorry for showing you something unsightly. My body is hideous… forgive me.”
She was apologizing to him. For her scars. For the very evidence of everything she had sacrificed for the Empire—for a country that wasn’t even hers.
His thoughts spun uselessly, unable to catch up.
Apologizing? Unsightly?
The thin, battle-worn body marked by countless wounds—she called that unsightly? Eryk looked down at her with an expression caught between fury and something far more complicated.
Why do you always lower yourself like that, Valentine…?!
He had no right to scold her after the way he had spoken to her in the past. Still, irritation flared hot in his chest. Those noble scars, earned in service to an empire that hated her kind, and she called them hideous. The empty, resigned look in her eyes made his stomach twist.
He sighed before he could stop himself.
She was the one who should be receiving an apology. She was the one who should feel shame. Yet here she was, head bowed, apologizing again.
“…I’m sorry. For showing you my hideous body.”
The sight of her shrinking into herself, clearly believing every word, left him speechless. How much pain had she carried alone to come to view herself this way?
What the hell have I been doing all this time?
Stripping away the label of “vampire,” all that remained was a broken, suffering person who had given everything for his homeland. And he had repaid her with insults and injustice. Shame flooded him, hot and sudden.
The hatred for vampires and the guilt toward his family—the twin chains that had kept his feelings for her locked away—suddenly felt suffocating.
The situation was unbearable. Unbearable. Before he knew it, his right hand had risen.
Valentine flinched, already anticipating the blow. She wouldn’t resist. She thought she deserved it.
“……”
Instead, Eryk gently ruffled her cap, the gesture full of helpless pity. She looked up at him in open confusion.
I want to stroke her hair properly, but…
He couldn’t allow himself that. Silently asking her to forgive him for the limits of his own heart, Eryk knelt on one knee so their eyes were level. He apologized in earnest.
Valentine stared at him as though she had been struck by lightning.
And Eryk finally understood that the guilt and the endless hatred inside him were no longer enough to hold back the truth he had been trying so hard to deny.