Bldi, the Hikikomori Loner Vampire. She Fluttered Her Tiny Bat Wings and Flew.
Bldi, the Hikikomori Loner Vampire. She Fluttered Her Tiny Bat Wings and Flew.
"That was a wonderful meal."
Andrea patted her pleasantly full stomach, a satisfied smile spreading across her face as she polished off her chicken and rice.
The loose, blissed-out grin on her face and the relieved sigh that followed left no trace of worry.
"I knew you'd pull it off, boss. Never doubted you for a second. You're the best, Chef Lucas. Your cooking's the best! It really hits me all over again just how insane your skills are."
"So, how's it taste?"
"Perfect. I'd put it on the lunch menu right now. Right when the richness might start getting to you, the heat cuts straight through, and suddenly you're ready for another bite. Same with the pickled radish."
"Yeah?"
"Yes!"
Andrea's palate had grown considerably more generous lately.
She used to be a fair bit fussier, I could've sworn.
Can I really trust that?
Still, if she'd signed off on it as good, it'd pass muster with imperial palates just fine.
Working chili powder into the frying batter had clearly paid off.
It was one of those elements that could introduce variation without breaking the overall richness.
"What about the meat? Tasted a little different, didn't it?"
"It did seem different... Honestly, I couldn't tell you exactly what was different. Just that it was more delicious, I suppose?"
"Okay. That's all I needed to hear."
If even Andrea was saying that, then something was definitely up with that meat.
The chicken farm owner was due tomorrow with the egg order anyway—I'd ask him then.
I popped the last piece of chicken into my mouth and chased it with the final glass of soju.
"Ahhh. Can't wait for that mage to get here."
"Why's that?"
"So I can make beer."
"There's a brewery nearby, you know."
"Not that stuff. I'm talking about real Dwarf-style beer, like they make in the city."
"Ah... Dwarves..."
The beer brewed out in the countryside had weak carbonation.
And no wonder—the brewing conditions were the real issue.
There were two reasons beer could pack that sharp, electric fizz that prickled your throat.
First, the natural carbonation method, where the gas came from the yeast fermenting the beer itself.
To trap a high volume of carbon dioxide, you had to keep the fermentation tank at high pressure and low temperature. That required a specialized Dwarf-made fermentation tank.
Only the Dwarves knew how to build tanks with perfect sealing, pressure, and temperature control, making such tanks a key Dwarf industrial export.
The second method was forcibly injecting carbonation into already-finished beer.
This was the technique the magic Tower had proudly unveiled, claiming human ingenuity could rival what the Dwarves produced without needing their tanks.
You'd use a spell to force carbon dioxide into beer that otherwise came out under-carbonated because it hadn't been made in a Dwarf fermentation tank.
The mages called it the Carbonation Injection Method.
The malt and hop character came through weaker than with the natural method, but the carbonation itself was ferocious—the sort that felt like it was stabbing the back of your throat.
It was competitive enough that a surprising number of people preferred beer made this way.
Rumor had it even the Dwarves—the finest brewers alive—acknowledged it. Didn't I hear they had their own take on carbonation injection, some different approach?
'Something about breaking down minerals and doing whatever with them, I think.'
That was beyond what I could claim to know.
In any case, both methods were only practical in a city.
The natural method required periodic equipment inspections by a Dwarf, and the injection method needed a mage on hand constantly casting the carbonation spell to keep it running.
Which meant getting your hands on that kind of crisp, lively beer out here in the sticks was next to impossible.
Countryside beer was, more often than not, flat and thin.
'I could get it shipped from the city, but...'
The cure would cost more than the disease.
Wouldn't that push a single beer past one gold?
A hundred thousand won for a glass of beer.
Ridiculous.
"First things first, once Camilla's mage gets here, I'll set up a brewery system so we can inject carbonation. Then I've got to get them working on turning liquid sauces into powder, and synthesizing a fresh batch of M Powder now that my supply's nearly gone..."
God, the to-do list just kept growing.
Were they ever going to get here?
The wait was killing me.
What if this mage couldn't pull any of it off?
"Maybe I should just hire an actual Dwarf."
"Boss, Dwarves are out of the question."
"Why's that?"
"Those guys are nothing but stubborn mules who think the world revolves around them, strutting around like they're God's gift and treating every other race like dirt. Loud, hairy, filthy..."
I had a sudden flash of the first time I'd met her, when she'd planted herself in front of me and called me a racist to my face.
"An elf is saying this."
"I'm talking about Dwarves. Do you have any idea how self-absorbed Dwarves are?"
Watching her now, I felt like I was starting to understand exactly why elves and dwarves were at each other's throats.
'They hate what reminds them of themselves.'
I kept that thought to myself, though.
I could picture it all too clearly: Andrea sulking and going hmph under her breath.
"Quit running your mouth and go do the dishes."
"...By myself?"
"Obviously. I did all the prep and cooking. You handle cleanup."
"Fine."
I watched her retreating back, ears drooping, as she headed off to wash up.
'Yeah, she's definitely put on a little weight...'
Her hips maybe looked a touch broader...
Still an extremely well-sprung backside, though.
The muscle she'd built up over her long career as a hunter and that trademark sleek elven silhouette were both holding steady.
But compared to when I'd first met her, she'd unmistakably filled out.
Not that that was a bad thing.
'Might be time to get her exercising.'
Before things drifted into more dangerous territory.
***
"Did you enjoy the meat we sent you?"
The next day, the chicken farm owner—looking noticeably cheerier—smiled as he placed the egg order and restocked several other supplies at the restaurant.
The Cocos were doing better, and it showed on his face.
Which was good for me too, since it meant I got my goods at a better price.
"It tasted better than Coco from other farms. Do you have some kind of secret method?"
"Hahaha! Nothing I'd go so far as to call a secret."
With a hearty laugh, the owner leaned in toward me.
"Just between you and me, Sir Knight—our Cocos get a bit of gallek mixed into their feed once a day."
"Gallek?"
"That's right. That's our little trick."
Cocos raised on gallek.
In other words, garlic-fed chicken.
He fed them garlic.
"Gallek's too pungent a spice for people to eat straight, but for the Cocos it acts as a health tonic. It helps them grow better, purifies their blood so they don't get that gamey smell, and keeps the flesh tender."
"Oh-ho."
So that was the trick.
Back in my old world, you'd hear about barley-fed pork or garlic-fed goat—the idea that a special feed produced healthier, tastier meat.
'Never thought I'd run into the same thing here in the Empire.'
I'd spent a long time cooking and even longer as a knight, but this was the first I'd ever heard of anyone using that kind of feed. It crossed my mind that the chicken farmer standing in front of me might just be the man to steer the whole poultry and livestock industry into a new future.
'Hold on. Something doesn't add up.'
Cocos raised on garlic.
Why on earth would a vampire be drinking the blood of those Cocos?
Wasn't it common knowledge that vampires were weak to garlic?
'Or was the garlic actually what drew it there?'
I had no idea.
I knew nothing about vampires...
"Anyway, how are the Cocos doing? The intruder hasn't come back?"
"All's peaceful, thanks to you, Sir Knight. No more intruders, so the Cocos are thriving. The priest said the full ward will be finished around lunchtime today—after that, we can finally rest easy. Hahaha!"
"Glad to hear it."
"Thank you again, Sir Knight. Truly."
The farm owner took his leave, and I got to work prepping ingredients for the day's customers.
It had been four days since we'd last opened, so I had more to work through than usual.
We'd rested—now it was time to work twice as hard.
***
-Hungry...
Growl.
Having given up on raiding the chicken farm, Bldi was fluttering through the air again today in bat form, wings beating, searching for her daily meal.
The Coco farm, once brimming with the finest blood, was now forbidden territory she could never return to.
The barrier magic the priest had erected was far too hazardous for a vampire with zero social skills to approach.
What if she went and ran into a human?
What if she spotted a human procession on the way?
What if the barrier flared, alerting them to her presence so they could dispatch a subjugation squad?
What if, what if, what if, what if.
A thousand possibilities swirled in dizzying circles through her head.
Bldi's imagination was simply too vivid.
Whatever form it took, every scenario was the worst-case scenario in her eyes.
-I should've been more careful... That day, I should've just gone hungry and found somewhere else to eat.
Then at least she'd never have met those humans.
She'd still be drinking that delicious Coco blood right now.
'Humans are terrifying.'
But she couldn't just drift around forever.
This area didn't have much in the way of prey whose blood she could actually drink.
Since that wild deer she'd fed on last time, she hadn't eaten a thing.
If it weren't for the Coco farm, she'd never have settled here in the first place.
Besides, she didn't much care for the blood of wild animals.
No—she didn't enjoy the act of drinking blood itself.
Wild animal blood was sweet, but that was all it was.
For a vampire who'd lived her whole life knowing nothing but that cloying sweetness, the one-note sameness of it left no real impression.
The same taste, every time. The same texture.
'Boring.'
That was why most vampires preferred to drink the blood of powerful monsters—for the thrill of the hunt.
They swapped the pleasure of eating for the pleasure of the chase.
Naturally, that was out of the question for Bldi, who was timid and terrible at communicating with others.
The Cocos were the first to show her that drinking blood could be fun.
That sharp, spicy kick that stung her mouth.
She'd gotten addicted to the rapture of that flavor, visiting the Coco farm every single day, so drunk on the scent that she hadn't even noticed humans approaching.
'Is it time to leave this place for good?'
As she hesitated, a delicious aroma drifted into her nose.
'That scent.'
The same scent she'd caught at the Coco farm.
She'd never been able to forget that spiciness, that sharp, tingling sting still lingering on her tongue.
The flavor that had, for the first time, added variety to the sweetness of blood.
She flew toward the source of the smell.
-A human castle...
The scent was wafting from a human castle, its lights glowing in the distant darkness.
-Humans are scary, though...
But she still remembered that peculiar aroma, the way it had lingered in her mouth.
-I want to eat.
She couldn't go back to the farm—the holy barrier was up now.
But this little castle, where the holy barrier wasn't yet fully in place...
'As long as I avoid the barrier, they'll never know who I am.'
If she didn't speak and used only hand signals to communicate, she could stay hidden.
A clear plan took shape inside her head.
Her own proud image, confidently pointing out exactly what she wanted through body language.
A human who understood that body language, handing her that sharp, spicy Coco blood.
And then herself, slipping smoothly away without ever being found out as a vampire.
-Heeheeheehee.
Her happy little fantasy loop began to spin.
Flutter. Flutter.
Bldi the vampire beat her tiny wings and headed toward Britten Castle, where the scent was drifting from.
Utterly unaware that the very man who'd chased her off was waiting there.