The Vampire Wants Kalguksu - 6
As always, I was cleaning when a message came through that she was doing well.
With roughly a seven-hour time difference between us, we kept in touch over messenger rather than by phone.
I want to trust her.
If Jeanette was willing to put it like that, I figured it was safe to drop my suspicions entirely.
Honestly, that was the right call all along.
I'd already started to believe her back when we were wiping out the few vampires still left in Korea. She had even put on a bomb collar, after all. The only real problem had been that lingering scrap of what-if doubt. But now even that last shred seemed unnecessary.
With the targets scattered across the world, dealing with them simultaneously was ideal — and also extremely difficult. Every country had a different number of Awakened and a different level of strength among them. It was no wonder Jeanette, the most useful asset of all, was being run ragged.
I sighed and switched off my phone. Even knowing nothing was wrong, I couldn't quite settle my nerves.
"She'll be fine. The Saint is more than capable on her own — and she's got a vampire with her, too."
I'd just finished cleaning the sixth floor when Marie came up beside me, dressed with unusual care. There was a crisp, squared-away quality to her today that I didn't usually see. It made sense. Hidden from public view, the world was still in the middle of a full-scale vampire purge. Anyone who knew the real situation had every reason to stay cautious. Fortunately, the rumors that might have spread had been kept under tight control, and things remained mostly quiet. On the surface, it could almost pass for peacetime.
"You mentioned there were people colluding with the specters, right? What do you think will happen to them? I don't imagine they'll go straight to the death penalty."
Marie asked while I was putting the cleaning tools away.
"This is going to sound half-hearted, but… I figure it'll depend on the country. Places that like executions will execute them. Most of them, though, will probably settle for prison time — the hard kind."
"That seems fair enough. And they'll confiscate their assets, too, right?"
"If they have families, they'll leave them enough to live on."
Unless the whole family had thrown in with the specters, of course.
Just as I was about to pick up the mop and vacuum, Marie snatched the commercial-grade vacuum with one hand. She didn't even look like she was straining — probably because her physical strength outclassed mine.
"I'll carry it. It wouldn't feel right to just stand there watching my boss work."
"Thanks."
With her already calling herself the subordinate, I had nothing left to argue. I nodded reluctantly and headed for the cleaning-supply closet in the parking garage.
"Oh, right. Think you could teach me how to drive sometime?"
We were rinsing the tools at a little washbasin and putting them away when the thought of driving suddenly occurred to me.
Marie looked over.
"Driving? You're going for a license?"
"I wasn't planning on it, but yeah. With the family growing, it feels like something I should learn."
"Then I'll have to help you."
Marie's lips curved into a perfect crescent moon. She looked thoroughly pleased at the idea of being useful.
"Excuse me? Is anyone there?"
A familiar voice slipped in among the clatter of tools. After a few words, I recognized the building owner.
"Yes! We're here! Coming!"
I raised my voice without meaning to, spurred by a sudden urgency. He was probably here about a new tenant for one of the empty floors. I finished packing the tools in a hurry and headed out.
Cleaning and hunting down prospective tenants ate through the hours the way they always did. The only real comfort was that I could still message her every day, so at least the worry stayed manageable.
"We're back."
Before I knew it, the two women and one man who had gone abroad walked in wearing tired smiles. They were smiling, yes — but fatigue clung to every line of their faces. A smile that wasn't really a smile, just like that old song lyric.
"Welcome home. You must be exhausted."
I pulled Jeanette into a hug fierce enough to stir the air, and she laughed softly. She seemed to like the firm pressure of it.
"I'm fine. I felt very secure with the two of them along."
Jeanette glanced back over her shoulder. Henri and Camilla stood side by side, both looking at me.
"I'm glad both of you made it back safely as well. No trouble?"
"Yes. We owe it to the Saint's blessing. You'll have a great deal to discuss, so I'll leave it at a brief greeting for now."
Henri spoke first, short and clipped. Still stiff — but a little softer than before. Softer than it used to be, at least.
"Ah, of course. Your wife will be waiting. You should go to her."
"Yes. Excuse me."
Henri bowed politely and stepped into the elevator. Since we'd met on the first floor, taking the stairs up to the fifth would have been natural — but the shop wasn't open yet.
"How cold. Am I not to be welcomed?"
Camilla swept her long hair back as she spoke. It was so thick and sleek that it moved like a wave through the air — and with that sky-blue color, the effect was even stronger.
"My apologies."
I gently set Jeanette aside and bowed with proper formality. Courtesy owed to someone who had once been my superior — and an apology for the rudeness of ever doubting her sincerity.
"Has your suspicion eased a little now?"
Camilla asked with a low chuckle. There was no grievance or resentment in her voice, only pure mischief. So she was teasing me. I could practically hear the thought: Here's a perfect opening — let me get a word in.
"From the moment you put that collar on yourself and stepped forward, I realized how foolish I had been. I apologize again."
"My, what a smooth tongue. No need to go that far. In any case — lift your head."
I looked up to find Camilla waving a hand dismissively. She seemed reasonably satisfied.
"Yes."
"Hmm. Having received the endorsement of a famous Saint, I believe I am entitled to a certain measure of hospitality. Do you agree?"
"I do."
Through those messages, I had already caught a glimpse of what had happened and how Jeanette felt about it. My own conclusion was the same as hers. Camilla truly was Erzsébet Báthory — and she had every right to stand tall.
"Then should one not reward those who have returned from battle with merit? You are their master now, after all."
The language of hierarchy slipped out of Camilla's mouth as naturally as breathing. It was oddly hard to argue with.
"I'm not their master, but… anyway. If there's something I can do for you, I'll do my best."
"Good. Then I shall speak without reservation. First of all — I want kalguksu."
Camilla blinked, then answered with a thoroughly serious expression. Whatever else it was, it clearly wasn't a joke.
Kalguksu, huh.
She'd looked so disappointed after the meal we'd had in Sokcho. Apparently she meant to make up for that regret while she had the chance.
"Understood. I'll go buy the ingredients — would you wait at home for a little while?"
"A proper meal requires preparation. I shall look forward to it."
"Jeanette, you go wash up and rest while you wait. Tonight's dinner is kalguksu."
"I will. Take your time. And take Marie with you, just in case."
We were in the middle of the capital region, and the operation was over, so it shouldn't have been dangerous. Still, I had no reason to refuse. I nodded quietly.
"Marie, let's go grocery shopping."
"Yes."
I took Marie with me to the large supermarket near the house. As usual, plenty of people lost their focus staring at her striking looks. Meat, vegetables, flour — we bought everything we needed under that constant stream of attention and made it home. Fortunately, no one tried to talk to us. As an extra, I also picked up some liquor that seemed like it would go well with kalguksu. I didn't care much for alcohol myself, but Camilla might.
…Back then, there was only wine.
There had been other drinks available at the time, but she simply hadn't chosen them. Not me — Camilla.
"Is that the same kalguksu you made long ago?"
Marie asked as we walked, her eyes and voice full of curiosity.
"It was. I roughly kneaded the dough, roughly cut the noodles. I didn't even know how to make a proper broth, so I just threw something together. I was desperate for noodles back then."
"And she liked it, it seems?"
"I originally made it as a meal for us servants, but she caught me and I ended up serving it to her. Luckily, she liked it."
Whether it was the unfamiliar taste, or the warm, quietly deep flavor of the broth — something about it had worked.
"Welcome back."
When we returned home, Camilla waved cheerfully from the sofa — and she was sitting right next to Jeanette on the living-room couch.
I asked,
"You two seem to be getting along?"
"Suffering side by side tends to breed a certain intimacy. I should like to become friends with the queen over there as well."
Camilla smiled with her eyes, the look just a little too openly seductive. Marie took a step back and frowned, clearly unsettled.
"She's just teasing. Don't mind her. Go rest."
I gave Marie's shoulder a light pat and headed for the kitchen. Both women offered to help, but I firmly waved them off. It only felt right if I made it alone.
I stood at the kitchen counter, drew a breath, and got straight to cooking. The quality of the ingredients was different, but I meant to follow the old method as closely as I could.
First, the noodles. I kneaded the flour, seasoned it with salt, and put it in the refrigerator. Back then there had been no fridge, so I'd left the dough to rest in a cool corner. The convenience of modern refrigeration hit me all over again.
Next, I sliced up some stew-ready pork and a few pieces of pork belly and started frying them. Roughly chopped green onions, onions, and other vegetables went in as well. Meat had always been easier to come by than seafood in that environment. For seasoning, I used only salt and pepper — the staples of Csejte Castle in those days. Once the meat browned and released a savory smell, I poured in water and brought it to a boil. By the time the broth was going, the dough would be properly rested and ready to cut — on a floured board.
The seasoning's about right.
After that, all that remained was boiling the noodles. Nothing special. But since I preferred a clean broth, I cooked the noodles separately.
"Please eat. It's ready."
I set four deep, concave bowls of kalguksu on the table, each topped with the meat and vegetables that had flavored the broth. Five in the afternoon — a little early for dinner, but not bad.
"Thank you. We'll dig in."
The three women who had been watching TV came over in a little procession and took their seats. Marie and Camilla sat on one side; Jeanette and I sat across from them. Marie had been openly wary not long ago, but whatever conversation they'd had in the meantime seemed to have smoothed the awkwardness away.
"Thank you for the food."
Jeanette picked up her chopsticks first. I carefully lifted a mouthful of noodles myself and was relieved to find the flavor more than passable.
"A little different — yet the essence is the same."
Camilla had been working her chopsticks in silence; now she looked over at me. The curve of her lips said she was pleased.
"Looks like you like it."
"It reminds me of peaceful days of old, and that pleases me. Well — not entirely peaceful, but for the most part, things were manageable."
"They were."
Having lived through that time myself, I understood completely. The incident that could so easily have turned her into the Blood Countess. The men who had eyed the estate, testing their chances with money as bait. It hadn't been as tense as the age of Louis XVI, but those years had still kept us on edge.
"That was excellent. Truly delicious."
Camilla set her empty chopsticks across the bowl with a soft clack. It wasn't empty flattery — she genuinely meant it. The bowl was scraped clean.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. You've gotten past one major hurdle, so please rest well here. The rest of the conversation can wait until tomorrow."
"Here?"
Camilla tilted her head, puzzled.
"We have plenty of rooms."
"Mmm… true enough. And what do you think?"
Her gaze turned to Jeanette. She was asking for an opinion, but she already seemed to know the answer.
"I'm fine with it. There's a room with its own bathroom — she can rest there."
"My thanks. And…"
Camilla trailed off as if she meant to say something more, then shook her head.
"No. We are all tired. Let us speak of it tomorrow. It is no great matter — pay it no mind."
This again? The scene felt so familiar that a tightness settled in my chest.