The Vampire Wants to Eat Kalguksu - 4

I blinked at the vampire who had named herself Báthory.

"You're… that Báthory? How am I supposed to believe that?"

"I shall offer two proofs," she said.

Báthory lifted her right hand a fraction and twisted the corner of her mouth. The smile that settled there was sharp—half mockery, half something almost fierce.

"One. Had I meant you no goodwill, a Charm would have settled the matter at once. There would have been no need for this long, roundabout approach. Is that not so?"

She wasn't wrong.

Lie or truth, Charm was the fastest, surest method. Whatever her intent, she could have bent the situation to her liking.

"I'll grant you that. What's the other?"

"I hear you humans have something called an Oath of Truth these days. I shall use that oath to prove my word."

The Oath of Truth.

A sworn declaration conducted through a kind of lie detector fashioned from specter materials. It could not be tampered with, and its accuracy approached one hundred percent. Thanks to that, it saw regular use in international agreements—and whenever Awakened Associations and other institutions ran joint operations.

"You know a lot."

"I have not treated with humans, but simply existing in the world brings a great many words to one's ears."

Báthory nodded and smoothed her expression. The smile that replaced the sharp one was soft, almost gentle—easy to look at.

Is she for real?

Because she claimed to be Báthory, my thoughts kept sliding in that direction of their own accord, as if my mind were scrambling to rationalize it. Even so, the suspicion would not fully lift, and the stuck feeling of it left me restless.

"All right. If you're going that far, I can't just keep doubting you either. You've read my memories, so you know where I live?"

"The capital region of this country, is it not? You lived rather well in your previous life, and this one seems to be reaping the benefits in full."

"I can't exactly argue with that."

A kept husband living off his wife's success. Lately, the phrase stirred more gratitude and comfort in me than guilt.

"What cause have you for a guilty conscience? This is a special circumstance—everyone has been reborn. Think of it as the devotion you once built being repaid. They will rest easier that way as well."

An answer that seemed to pierce even the last scrap of guilt lodged in my heart. A confident voice. Far easier to deal with than someone who simply clapped their hands over their ears and shouted.

A vampire more comfortable than a person.

I wondered if that could possibly be right—and at the same time thought, well, maybe it could. In a world where every kind of absurdity kept exploding into view, anything was possible.

"There's sense in that. Still—you aren't approaching us with the intent of harming the Saintess, are you?"

"You underestimate the Saintess far too much. That is the sort of thing a man says who has never seen her fight with his own eyes."

Fair enough.

All I had were scraps floating around the internet, and the occasional firsthand account that leaked out through interviews with a few Awakened.

"Her power is well-established, so I do think she's trustworthy. Even so, a second-class vampire—and a high-ranking one at that—isn't something you can afford to take lightly."

"Hmm. Reasonable enough, from where you stand. From mine, it is merely frustrating. Shall I cut off a hand for you? Would that set your mind at ease?"

"I don't know. I really couldn't say."

Even if she severed a wrist, it would regenerate in no time. A single offer to cut something off was not nearly enough to rest on. Half of me thought I could trust her. Half of me still could not. A clean fifty-fifty deadlock made the decision impossible.

Camilla spoke.

"If you find judgment so difficult, I shall telephone the Saintess. Leave the decision to her."

"Call her?"

Had some other thought occurred to her while she ate her kalguksu? My brow furrowed before I could stop it. I had no way of knowing whether her intent was pure—or whether something was hidden underneath.

"You keep doubting me, so I am left with no other recourse. The suspicion is fair enough, I grant you—but I can scarcely bear the frustration. Make the call at once."

Camilla sighed and gave a slow wave of her hand. The sharp yet languid set of her eyes, the gesture itself—everything was the very image of the Báthory I had known so well.

I steadied my breath for a moment, then drew my phone from my pants pocket.

"Yeah. About to head over. But… something complicated came up."

The brightness drained out of Janet's voice at once. A single sentence, and she seemed to have roughly guessed the shape of the situation. So I laid out what I was facing as briefly as I could—and as clearly as I could manage, so she would understand and remember it. Through a three-line summary.

A full minute of silence passed. Then Janet asked, her voice level and calm.

"Yeah. Right in front of me. I can handle myself—but I'm scared the shop lady might get killed too."

"Got it."

I nodded and rose from my seat. Come to think of it, the bowl was empty—there was no good reason to keep camping there. A café might have been different.

"Shall we step outside? Sitting around with empty dishes is starting to look strange."

"A fair point. Let us do so."

Fortunately, Camilla followed me out of the shop without protest. I paid the bill, of course.

As we stepped outside, Janet called my name.

"Yeah. Go ahead."

"Where should we go?"

Janet hesitated briefly, then sent word that we should meet at an amusement park. By my standards, it was a reasonably close place.

"All right. I'll head that way."

"I will."

I hung up and met Camilla's eyes. Janet's voice—held in check for so long, then finally trembling just a little—seemed to linger at my ear.

"There's an amusement park nearby. She says she's coming there."

"As you wish. Inviting me straight into the heart of your base would have been a curious choice in any case."

Fortunately, Camilla showed a generous face and started walking. Even after a long stretch of sidewalk, she gave no sign of irritation all the way to the park.

"How quiet it is."

Only once we reached the dark, nearly deserted amusement park did she part her lips. It felt as if she were savoring some old, lingering aftertaste.

"It's night. You've never been here?"

"I came often. I spent my time quietly holed up in this region, after all. I neither cultivated friendships with the others nor exchanged much of anything."

The word exchange made my chest grow heavy again. Beyond Camilla and the vampire who had died drinking my blood, there would be any number of others.

"Are there many of them?"

"Not many—though that is a statement of proportion. In absolute numbers, they are hardly few."

"How long will it take to catch that many vampires?"

"It will be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simpler than you think."

How? I tilted my head, and instead of answering, Camilla drew a phone from her pocket.

"You said you didn't associate with humans… and you have a phone?"

"It is not mine. It belonged to the dead one. I collected it when I disposed of the body."

Watch carefully.

Camilla sidled a little closer and worked the phone with busy fingers. The tension climbed, but the fear lessened. Whether I kept a little distance or stood this near, the situation would not change for the sake of a few steps.

"A group chat?"

One of those encrypted messenger rooms people talked about—an open chat, with hundreds of participants currently connected—filled the screen.

"Don't tell me every account connected here is a vampire?"

"Indeed. This is not an age of messengers on horseback. One can converse with someone on the far side of the world in a matter of seconds."

Camilla explained that the accounts were empty shells created through Charmed humans. She would linger secretly at a human's side, gathering information and exchanging words.

Vampires in a group chat? Unbelievable.

It was plausible and ridiculous at the same time—enough that the tension nearly bled out of me.

"Is this all of them?"

"To my knowledge, yes. So if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠these alone were rounded up, it would count as a successful culling. After that, however, you will have to devise your own countermeasures. And the process of taking them will not be easy either."

A listless look crossed Camilla's face. She would tell me—and that was all. Cleaning them up was none of her concern.

"It seems they have arrived. A thoroughly sacred scent. Stifling."

Click. Camilla switched off the phone she had been showing me and slipped it back into her pants pocket, gazing blankly across the dark road.

I followed her gaze. In the distance, two women were walking toward us.

Blonde and white-haired. Janet and Marie.

Ah.

The moment our eyes met, Marie's and Janet's pupils trembled finely. They looked as if they were straining to force down emotions that refused to be controlled.

At last they stopped at a careful distance. Camilla was the first to speak, smiling.

"Well met. In all my life I never dared imagine I would look upon the great Joan of Arc with my own eyes. The later queen as well."

"I'm honored to hear you say so."

Even with her past life laid bare, Janet showed no sign of fluster. Marie was the same. The three-line summary—and the added explanation that everything had already been exposed—had done its work.

"A most glorious occasion. I should like to offer a handshake, if I may. Would that be acceptable?"

"If everything you've said is true—gladly."

"Then this will be over soon. That lady over there happens to possess a most useful power."

Camilla locked eyes with Marie. Having read my memories, she would of course know about Dominion. There would be no need to bother with the Oath of Truth she had mentioned earlier. But if Marie's ability failed to take hold, verification through the Oath of Truth would become mandatory.

Marie spoke.

"All right. Stay right where you are and don't move. Don't touch Ji-hyuk either."

The moment that cold, resonant voice—so unlike her usual tone—reached my ears, Camilla's body went rigidly stiff. Anyone could see she had fallen under Dominion.

In that opening, Janet rushed to my side and planted herself in front of Camilla, as if determined to put a wall between us.

"How swift."

A faint arc curved across Camilla's lips. Even under Dominion, she looked thoroughly at ease—as if she had expected all of this.

"You're remarkably composed."

Janet stepped back one pace at a time, frowning. I retreated with her, and the distance between us and Camilla steadily widened.

"You still do not trust me, so putting space between yourselves and this man at once is only natural."

"You knew that—and you still submitted without a fight?"

"So long as you do not simply run, I am prepared to answer. From the beginning, I intended to be bound without resistance."

While we talked, we kept putting ground between us until we had drawn even with where Marie stood. Marie's gaze fixed on Camilla.

"Fortunately, it seems my power is affecting you."

"Affecting me? The binding force is formidable. Breaking free would cost a considerable effort. As the one who cast it, you must feel that yourself."

Marie nodded without a word. Silent agreement meant Dominion had truly taken hold. A power that could clamp a second-class specter in a grip this strong—reassuring on one hand, and the sort of thing that made other people uneasy on the other. No wonder Marie had kept it hidden.

"Answer my questions with nothing but the truth. Not a shred of falsehood."

Marie issued the command in a solemn voice, and Camilla nodded obediently.

"Very well. Ask."

"You claim that in a previous life you were human. Is that true?"

"It is an established fact. I left behind no brilliant deeds or life story as you did… but I lived as an ordinary noble."

Marie had ordered her to speak only the truth, and Camilla obeyed. If she had found some way to circumvent the command—or if Dominion were not working—Marie would have sensed it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first. Therefore Camilla's words could be taken as true. The fine trembling in her arms and legs, as if forcibly bound, made that point clear enough.

It… really does seem genuine.

Even the clean way she accepted it, the total absence of resistance—my conviction that Camilla truly was Erzsébet Báthory only grew stronger. As I had thought before, if she meant to deceive us, Charming me would have been the surest path.

Marie continued.

"What is your name?"

"Camilla, at present. In the past, Erzsébet Báthory. Looking back now… I might have left a rather vivid mark on history."

Was there something she half-suspected? To anyone who knew what the original Báthory had been, the answer would have sent a chill down the spine. The woman who murdered maidens and bathed in their blood—infamous as one of history's most notorious killers.

"What era?"

"By modern reckoning, I appear to have been born in the sixteenth century. Even for a nameless noble, the record is surprisingly clear. The chronicles, I suppose."

Camilla answered the questions that kept coming without growing bored, diligently and thoroughly. Model taxpayer. The earnestness of a morally impeccable young man in an interview.

"…I don't think I have anything more to ask. From what I can tell, all of it was the truth."

At last, when the questions numbered well past a dozen, a heated sigh escaped Marie's lips. She sounded exhausted from talking. Camilla's gaze shifted to Janet.

"Well then. This man entrusted you with the decision—so decide. What will you do?"