The Vampire's Bastard

Limbus Pit Ecological Report (3)

Hmm. Another peaceful day in the red-light district. For the record, I didn't include the last patient in the official log. It was a patient who had a foreign object stuck in a rather embarrassing place during some "activities" at a brothel, and I didn't feel like documenting that.

'Yeah. This is the average in Limbus Pit.'

I’d lived in the upper districts for so long that I’d forgotten the endless bottom of humanity. I wondered if someone as sheltered as me should even be seeing things like this.

I closed the medical log. As I set down my pen and rolled my neck, a dull ache surged through me with a cracking sound. It’s not good to develop habits like this at my age.

"Whew..."

The clinic work was done. Only after finishing with today's patients did I suddenly remember the things that had piled up over the last six weeks. I had to organize the report containing the details I’d requested from Wangcho earlier that afternoon. To be precise, it was a scrap of paper that was embarrassing to even call a report.

I took out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the paper I’d folded and tucked into my pocket and unfolded it. Then, in my own way, I began the work of "translating" those notes into a proper report format.

My fingertips trembled as I turned the paper over. Eighty people in six weeks. And that was just the number culled from those within the clinic's sphere of influence—those under Wangcho's management. There must have been even more corpses piling up in places I couldn't see.

I folded the paper and put it back in my pocket. If this were the 21st century, it would be a massive catastrophe—emergency alerts blaring, breaking news headlines, and parliamentary hearings. But Wangcho’s comment when he handed me the notes back then had transcended my imagination.

— "We did well, considering." Wangcho had added with a cackle.

— "The ground was frozen, so it was a pain to bury them, but thanks to that, the bodies didn't rot as much, so there wasn't much of a smell. Since we were short on firewood, we cremated a few to help with the heating. The living have to survive, right?"

— "...You used them as firewood?"

— "Aren't they just lumps of meat once they're dead anyway? The ones ground up in the gears didn't even need cleaning up, so I just flushed them down the sewer."

— "...Wangcho."

— "Yes, Teacher?"

— "Don't burn corpses for heat from now on. Inhaling the smoke isn't good for the lungs of the living."

— "Aigoo, as expected of you, Teacher. You're so merciful, even respecting the dead."

— "..."

I think about it every time, but I just can't adapt to the morality of this world. Then again, I had no intention of adapting. After all, a protagonist doesn't adjust to the world; the world adjusts to the protagonist.

I finished recording the data calmly and locked the report in the safe. "Ugh." With that, the clinic work was done. But my day wasn't over. A protagonist always has plenty to do.

***

One year after I started selling quinine through my father's merchant guild, I introduced a new medicine to them. It was none other than Insulin. Thanks to that, the pharmaceutical guild was preparing for its second boom following quinine.

"Wangcho. Is what I asked for ready?"

And this was also the reason I had developed a close relationship with Wangcho. Just as quinine required tree bark, insulin required pig pancreas. The interesting thing here is that slaughterhouses are considered undesirable facilities and are located in Limbus Pit. And the one who dominated that slaughterhouse business was none other than Wangcho.

'So it connects like this.'

Perhaps it was only natural. In the Middle Ages, it was undertakers or information guilds; in the modern era, it's slaughterhouses or waste management; in the contemporary era, it's construction materials or scrap cars. In any era, the "undesirable" industries that people think are dirty or bad luck, but are absolutely necessary, have always been the bread and butter of criminal organizations. In that sense, Wangcho and I might have been destined to become close even without the gout.

"Wangcho. Are the pigs ready?"

"..."

"Wangcho?"

"..."

"WANGCHO!!!"

"Gah!"

Wangcho, who had been nodding off at the entrance, jolted awake.

"Yes? Ah, yes! Of course! I set aside the pancreases from the sturdiest ones we slaughtered today."

"Thank you, as always. Let's go."

Wangcho guided me with a fawning attitude. You couldn't find a shred of the "charisma" of a ruler of the red-light district in his demeanor. But that was only natural considering the relationship between him and me. Half of Wangcho's slaughterhouse revenue was currently being guaranteed by our guild.

"Hehe. Teacher. No, wait, should I be calling you Director from this time on?"

As the time came, Wangcho mentioned the relationship between a corporate director and a supplier, rather than a patient and a doctor. But I shook my head.

"It's confusing, so just call me Teacher."

"Understood, Teacher."

That's how the underworld works. Even if they look terrifying on the outside, the structure is such that they'll starve to death if money doesn't flow in from the surface. No matter how many slaughterhouses Wangcho owns, if there's no merchant guild to buy the meat, it's just a pile of rotting flesh. Wangcho knew that well, which is why he acted so subserviently toward me.

"But, Teacher. It's been over a year now, shouldn't you speak comfortably to me? Your formal speech is too much for someone like me."

"Wangcho is not my subordinate."

Regardless of that, I don't treat Wangcho as an inferior. I've been building this character since I was four years old. If I were to start talking down to people, I'd look incredibly cheap. What I'm aiming for is a refined, noble young master who exudes a sense of mystery, not some nouveau riche drunk on power.

"And courtesy doesn't discriminate between people. I will continue to use formal speech, so keep that in mind."

"Tsk. I feel embarrassed whenever I talk to you, Teacher."

"Then let's go, Wangcho. You, me, and Mr. Otto all need to rest tonight."

With Wangcho, who was scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, leading the way, we set off toward the slaughterhouse. As we exited through the back door of the clinic, I saw Otto, my bodyguard and driver. Otto was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his hat pulled low, killing time. For the record, I wondered why he had to be outside in this cold weather, but he insisted that a bodyguard should be like this, so I decided to let him be.

"Hard at work, brother."

Wangcho greeted Otto with a friendly air. Otto acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod. Wangcho took the lead, and I followed. Otto followed us from a distance, like a shadow.

"This way. Since the snow is melting, the smell might be a bit strong."

Our destination was the slaughterhouse located next to the waste treatment plant. Specifically, the warehouse in the back. The ground was slushy with liquid that could have been rainwater or blood. *Squish.* Avoiding the puddles, we stepped under the eaves. A faded piece of red cloth danced under the eaves, welcoming me.

'I can't get used to seeing that.'

It felt quite eerie, perhaps because it was night. Between the cloths was a blackened, rotting wooden sign.

< Slaughter >

The character was so soaked in blood and grease that it was hard to read, but it clearly conveyed what this place was.

"Here we are, Teacher. It's night, so you won't be able to see well; be careful not to trip over the threshold."

"Thank you."

On both sides of the door frame Wangcho had guided us to, two pig heads pierced by hooks hung like gatekeepers. They say it's a charm to bring good fortune, but I still couldn't understand that aesthetic.

...Damn it. We made eye contact. I should have something other than pork for dinner tonight.

I passed between the empty eye sockets of the pigs and moved toward the warehouse. As soon as I opened the door, the fishy smell of blood and the stench of rotting entrails pierced through my mask. I think about it every time I come here, but if I didn't have this mask, I might have ruined my character and started retching.

In contrast, Wangcho only sniffed the air, showing no further reaction. Wangcho strode inside. He pointed to a drum filled with pancreases and said,

"It should still be warm, so... huh?"

Wangcho, who had been leading the way, suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?"

"No, that's... wait a second. Teacher, didn't you hear that?"

"I didn't hear anything."

I'm an ordinary person, not a beastman. I can't even use magic yet. Wangcho gestured for me to be quiet and guided me with a wave of his hand. The direction he guided me toward was the area where the blood troughs were kept. As we got closer to the blood trough area, I understood what he had heard.

*Slurp, splash, gulp.*

I could hear something wetting its throat. Wangcho frowned and picked up a torch hanging on the wall.

"What kind of crazy beast dares to touch my goods...!"

As we got close enough to the source of the sound, Wangcho muttered a thick curse and rolled up his sleeves. The torch he held cut through the darkness. And I couldn't help but gasp at the sight revealed.

"Huh."

"Well, I'll be."

It wasn't a beast that was greedily drinking the blood. It was a small child. The child had her head buried in a bucket where pig blood was collected. I questioned whether it was even right to call a creature that buried its face in a bucket of red liquid and feasted on rotten blood a human.

Wangcho shouted in shock.

"Y-you crazy brat, again!"

Startled by the shout, the child pulled her head out of the bucket. Ruby-red eyes were revealed amidst the matted, blood-stained hair. There was no sense of reason in those eyes, which glistened like a beast's in the torchlight.

"Hiss—!"

The child hissed and ran toward the exit. But there was no way she could outrun a healthy adult male with those emaciated legs that hadn't been fed in days. It was even more impossible since the opponent was a beastman who had conquered the red-light district with his fists.

Wangcho grabbed the child by the scruff of her neck in an instant.

"Caught you, you little brat!"

"Let go! I said let go!"

The child struggled, trying to bite Wangcho's arm. Wangcho made a menacing face and was about to throw the child to the floor. Then, perhaps remembering that I was watching, instead of slamming her down, he forced her to her knees and covered her head with a bucket.

"I'm sorry! Teacher! I made sure to lock up, I don't know how this unlucky thing crawled in...!"

"Do you know this child?"

"Yes. She's famous in this area. The 'Vampire's Bastard'."

"The Vampire's Bastard?"

Vampire. It was a term for the demons outside the walls who took the blood of humans. Here, vampires weren't elegant creatures like vampire counts who sipped blood from wine glasses. They were monsters who opened people's chests and buried their heads inside to suck blood, devoid of any dignity. Wangcho was saying this child was the bastard of such monsters.

"Every night, she sneaks in like this to steal and drink animal blood. On unlucky days, she gets beaten up for trying to lick the wounds of drunks. She's a blood-crazed vampire brat."

— "I don't know about anything else, but that was a misunderstanding!"

The child shouted from inside the bucket. The way she held onto the bucket with both arms for fear of losing even the remaining blood inside looked like a starving stray dog guarding a bone.

"Shut up, you brat!"

Wangcho raised his foot, raising his voice at the child. Even though she couldn't see anything, the child flinched. She knew instinctively that a kick was coming. At this timing.

"Wait."

At that sight, I broke my neutrality and stepped between them. A unique, named character of the red-light district appearing out of nowhere to break the routine. No matter how I looked at it, it was an event. Whether it was a companion event or a foreshadowing event. Regardless, I couldn't just let this child get beaten.

"Wangcho, calm down. You aren't planning to hit a child in front of me, are you?"

"...I apologize, Teacher."

Wangcho's foot came back down. I squatted in front of the child. Then, I gently placed my hand on the child's hand, which was clutching the bucket. Wangcho, realizing I was trying to remove the bucket, hurriedly tried to stop me.

"It's dangerous, Teacher. She might be after your blood!"

"Dangerous? You don't actually believe this child is a vampire's bastard, do you?"

"Pardon?"

"If she were a real vampire's bastard, you would have killed her already. The fact that you haven't means you instinctively know this child is actually human, right?"

"..."

Wangcho shut his mouth. Humans are such contradictory beings. Even when they know someone isn't a witch, they call them a witch to throw stones, and even when they know someone is human, they call them a monster to feel disgust.

"I'll give you something tastier than blood, so why don't you take the bucket off?"

The strength left the child's hands that were clutching the bucket. I moved her hands away and gently removed the bucket. Perhaps the sudden light was stinging, as the child frowned. I met the child's eyes. Even while trembling in terror, the child was licking the pig blood from her lips with her tongue. It was a grotesque, yet contradictory sight that evoked pity.

I put my hand in my pocket and approached the child. The child flinched and lowered her head.

"I'm not going to hit you, so look up."

"..."

When she still wouldn't look up, I took out some star-shaped candies from my pocket and shook them in front of her. They were my secret weapon for treating children at the clinic. If I gave these to kids in the 21st century, I'd just get scolded for treating the place like a military camp, but in this world, they were highly effective. Suddenly, I felt like looking for hardtack and milk. Anyway.

The child showed interest in the star candies and slowly looked up. I took the opportunity to carefully examine her face revealed under the light. Her messy, short hair was so matted with pig blood that it was hard to tell its original color, but the strands reflecting the torchlight had a dark red hue. Her attire was a beige shirt and brown suspenders. It was a boyish outfit overall, but looking closely, I saw she was a girl.

I looked at her face again. The skin under the blood was pale, without a drop of color. Her lips were blue with exhaustion. Check for anemia.

"Let me see your eyes."

I lifted her chin with my finger and flipped her eyelid with my other hand. The whites of her eyes were stained yellow. Check for jaundice.

"Let me touch here."

Finally, I shifted my gaze to her abdomen. Without waiting for permission, I felt her left flank. Before the child could twist her body away, my fingertips palpated a hard mass. An organ bulging out beneath her emaciated ribs. It meant her spleen was swollen. Check for splenomegaly.

"Done."

I withdrew my hand and popped a star candy into the child's mouth.

"You."

"*Nom nom...*"

"What color is your urine when you wake up in the morning?"

"..."

The child didn't answer. But that silence was already an answer.

"Don't worry, having dark urine doesn't make you a monster."

"....!!"

The child's breath hitched.

"*Cough, cough!*"

She spat out the star candy while coughing. When she tried to pick it up and eat it again, I kicked the candy away so she couldn't eat it and handed her a new one.

"That's dirty, so don't eat it. I'll give you a new one."

I handed the child a handful of star candies and grabbed her wrist.

"Before that, do you want to get a check-up?"