The Masquerade Ball (1)
Gavin, Harald's roommate and closest friend, had started grooming himself first thing Saturday morning.
Were his eyebrows neatly trimmed? Any nose hairs sticking out? Any food caught between his teeth?
Finally, after slicking his hair back with oil and changing into clean clothes, Gavin turned around with a look of pure satisfaction.
"How do I look, Harald? Anything off?"
"The only thing off is that head of yours..."
"What would you know about hair? This is the most fashionable style in the capital right now."
That wasn't the kind of "head" he'd meant, but never mind.
Harald sighed as he looked at his friend, who clearly hadn't caught the point.
Thanks to being well-fed during the week, some color had returned to Gavin's face — but he was still far thinner than before, and his energy was nowhere near what it used to be. Every time he moved while checking himself in the mirror, he staggered, looking for all the world like a drunkard stumbling home after a bender.
"Harald, if you're that worried, why don't you come along?"
"I was about to say the same thing to you. Why not join the club I signed up for instead? It's even officially recognized by the Imperial Academy."
"Tsk tsk tsk... You've still got a long way to go before you're a real adult. Harald, this big brother of yours has already climbed the staircase of adulthood."
Clicking his tongue as though Harald were the pitiful one, Gavin turned up his collar and grabbed his cane.
Confirming there was no stopping him, Harald grumbled and tossed something at him — a condom his Green Camp friends had gifted him.
"Don't come crying to me if you catch an STD. Take it."
"Ahem. You seem to be under some strange misconception. It's not that kind of gathering."
"Shut up and take it."
Even as he protested, Gavin shoved the condom into his pocket.
Once he'd confirmed Gavin was gone, Harald headed to his desk. On a small scrap of paper he'd written a description of Gavin's appearance, and he was waiting for someone when—
Tap tap tap!
"Crow!"
A three-eyed crow was pecking at the window. Harald scrambled over to open it. The moment he did, the crow thrust out the small tube attached to its leg, as if to say hurry up and load it.
Harald rolled up the paper, slipped it into the tube, and offered the crow a biscuit from the cookie jar.
"Deliver this safely to Lady Yoanna."
The crow — Noir — nodded and spread its wings. Leaving a trail of biscuit crumbs across the sky, Noir cut through the open air and vanished into the distance.
With biscuit crumbs plastered all around its beak, Noir delivered the paper to Yoanna with a look of pure satisfaction.
Finding Gavin after that was easy enough. Spotting someone who staggered around like a drunk in broad daylight was hardly a challenge.
Leaving the Academy in his wake, Yoanna tailed Gavin at a careful distance.
"Ma'am, two chicken skewers, please."
"Oh my~ Is a pretty young lady like you sure about eating street food like this?"
"With a smell this delicious, wouldn't it be cruel to tell me not to eat it?"
"Oh my, and so well-spoken too! Here, I'll give you an extra one — enjoy!"
Trailing Gavin at a leisurely pace, Yoanna bought herself some chicken skewers. Dantalion, having been handed a generous chunk of chicken, savored the salty meat as he spoke.
"I didn't know you had a talent for pursuit. I don't recall anyone teaching you this."
"Back home, I used to tail criminals from time to time when hunting them down. Good thing I practiced ahead of time, right?"
Could hunting down and executing criminals really be called "practice"?
After a moment's consideration, Dantalion patted Yoanna's shoulder approvingly. If she'd learned something useful while killing people who deserved to die, that was a good thing.
Starting with the chicken skewers, Yoanna sampled a variety of street foods to stave off boredom. She washed down the saltiness of the chicken with the sweet-and-sour of pomegranate, filled her stomach with sugar-dusted bread, and was just finishing with a bitter cup of coffee when—
"Mr. Gavin, thank you for visiting us again today."
"Osmund, long time no see... though saying that feels a bit odd, doesn't it? It's only been a week."
In a corner of the shopping district, Gavin and a masked man exchanged words. The mask had no eye holes at all — deeply suspicious — but Gavin didn't seem bothered in the slightest.
Greeting him warmly, Gavin exchanged a few minutes of useless small talk with Osmund. After beating around the bush for quite a while, he fidgeted and whispered:
"So, about that..."
"Oh my, no need to say it — I already know what you're asking. Lady Carmilla has been waiting for you with bated breath."
"Is that true?!"
At that knowing reply, a smile bloomed across Gavin's face. Unable to wait a second longer, he bounced on his feet as he put on the mask Osmund held out.
The dog mask, decorated with emeralds and gold thread, looked surprisingly elegant despite its design. With his face hidden behind it, Gavin shook Osmund's shoulders like a dog waiting to go for a walk.
"Can I go in? I can go in, right?"
"You really are completely smitten with the lady. Do forgive me for not being able to escort you — I'm rather busy at the moment."
"Oh, Lady Carmilla! I'm coming for you now!"
The moment permission was granted, Gavin opened the door behind Osmund and headed downstairs.
Having watched the whole thing, Yoanna downed the rest of her coffee, stood up, and approached Osmund. He spotted her and stared in silence...
"...And whose introduction brings you here? We're not particularly active about advertising, so visitors without a member's referral are rather rare."
After a brief pause, the man called Osmund asked in a leisurely tone.
Instead of answering right away, Yoanna stared at Osmund's mask. The man's entire body was stained black with traces of sin, as if he'd been dredged up from the darkness itself. A bone-chilling revulsion tightened her fingers of their own accord.
Yoanna, the moment you attack this one, the ones downstairs will respond.
"……"
Dantalion calmed her for the moment. They couldn't sacrifice however many innocent people might be down there just to dispose of the trash standing in front of them. As long as he wasn't blocking their entry, enduring it for the sake of the greater goal was the right choice.
Yoanna loosened her grip and answered, staring at Osmund with empty eyes.
"I just came out of curiosity. A man went downstairs looking so excited a moment ago, and I wondered what kind of place this was."
"Curiosity... is it?"
"Yes. Or is this such a strange gathering that one can't visit without an introduction?"
"Not at all. Most of our visitors come by referral, but we do get a fair number who stop by out of curiosity."
Even under her pointed questions, Osmund remained unfazed as he held out a fox mask set with obsidian.
"Here. Covering one's face with a mask is a rule of ours, so please be sure to wear it."
"Thank you."
Yoanna half-snatched the mask and covered her face with it. Through the door Osmund wordlessly opened for her, she descended into the basement.
Descending the lantern-lit stairs, she found an antique door. The scent of roses drifting from beyond it tickled her nose.
Click.
The basement beyond the door was quite dark, with damp air circulating through it. In a space lit by candles instead of the sun, masked members chatted among themselves.
In one corner, a pianist struck the keys and played a song, while ladies and gentlemen sat in appropriate seats, enjoying the music and celebrating their youth. Some of the older crowd occupied seats set aside in a corner, sharing drinks and coffee while smoking tobacco.
It was certainly far more decadent than any Academy club. Decadent, yes, but...
Cleaner than I expected?
The members' sins weren't as severe as she'd anticipated. They weren't clean by any means, but neither were they so heinous that death would be the better option. Some even seemed to have never committed a sin at all — not a single trace, no matter how hard she looked.
Just then, a short man in a rabbit mask approached.
"Hehehe! Young lady, is this your first visit to our club?"
"Club? Not a gathering?"
"But of course! Gatherings are for children, aren't they? A club, you see — is a most refined establishment that provides pleasure for weary adults."
Yoanna glanced at a man and woman sharing a kiss while smoking unusually colored tobacco. Could exchanging sticky gazes without even knowing each other's faces really be called a refined encounter?
As if reading her thoughts, the rabbit-masked man rubbed his palms together and spoke.
"Well, you see, pleasure doesn't necessarily mean satisfying carnal desires. If you'd like, how about sampling some intellectual delights instead?"
"...Very well."
Grinning under his mask, the rabbit-masked man led Yoanna down another floor.
If the first floor felt closer to a pleasure house, the second floor strongly resembled a library packed with ancient tomes. People concealing their identities behind masks each read books and conversed with others who shared their interests.
"Knowledge and wisdom know no rank! If there's a book you desire, just say the word. Our club turns away no book whatsoever."
"No book whatsoever?"
"But of course. Histories of fallen kingdoms, bizarre medical texts on dissecting the abdomen, and..."
The rabbit mask whipped his head around and whispered quietly to Yoanna.
"We even have heretical texts designated as forbidden books."
Yoanna flinched. Her gaze naturally turned toward the rabbit mask. Taking her reaction for curiosity, he guided her onward with a sly smile.
Arriving at a corner of the library composed of private rooms, the rabbit mask rapped on a shelf of ancient books that reeked of age.
"Here — the books on this shelf would cause quite a stir if word got out that we possessed them."
"How on earth did you acquire this many heretical texts?"
"Our club's patron is an elder from a rather high-ranking household. These are items he's collected over many long years."
Yoanna pulled out a few books and checked their contents. Filled with wicked content — undeniably heretical texts.
"However... all the private rooms happen to be full at the moment. Given the sensitive nature of these books, you can't hold onto them outside a private room."
Just as the rabbit mask was stacking up the books Yoanna had pulled — a private room door opened, and a man in a bat mask set with rubies appeared.
Holding a book in one hand, the man approached the rabbit mask and held it out.
"Jack, if you're putting books away, take this one too."
"Good grief! Aren't you being a bit much? I already can't see past these books!"
As Jack, the rabbit-masked man, moved away, the bat-masked man greeted Yoanna.
"My name is Patrick. Do forgive me for not revealing my family name — club rules, you understand."
"I'm Yoanna."
Despite her dry greeting, Patrick didn't lose his smile. He eyed the books Jack was carrying and made her a proposal.
"If you don't mind, how about reading together in a private room? Even private rooms allow up to two people."
"Couldn't you simply give up the room entirely?"
"Haha... I still have books I'd like to finish myself, you see."
Seeming flustered by her firmer-than-expected rebuff, Patrick laughed awkwardly as he pulled out a new book. Yoanna pulled out a suitable book of her own. Taking that as acceptance, Patrick opened the private room door for her.
As a magically crafted lamp lit up, a plush sofa and a spacious desk came into view. Sitting across from Patrick, Yoanna read in complete silence.
But then...
"What is this smell?"
"Ah, it's a fragrance that puts the mind at ease. It may feel uncomfortable at first, but you'll grow used to it with time, so please don't mind it too much."
It smelled fresh and crisp like a ripe apple — yet something about it stirred a deep revulsion.
A short while later, with only the quiet sound of turning pages filling the private room...
"Miss Yoanna? Miss Yoanna, is something wrong?"
"……"
Yoanna's head had drooped as if she'd fallen asleep right where she was reading. No matter how many times Patrick called her name, she didn't move at all.
After snapping his fingers and tapping her shoulder to double-check, Patrick stuck his fingers into his own mouth—
Crunch.
—and yanked out his own canine. As the tooth, slightly different in color from the others, rolled across the floor, a new fang sprouted in its place.
"Hoo... These damn teeth never get any easier. Forcing someone else's in never works out well, does it?"
They were far sharper than before — peculiar teeth stained black. Rising from his seat, Patrick approached Yoanna, breathing heavily. And like savoring the aroma of fine wine, he brushed back her hair and inhaled her scent.
"To think the Father of Blood would send me such a gift. I never dreamed I'd get to feed on a maiden so brimming with holy power."
Trembling with excitement, Patrick carefully removed Yoanna's mask.
"But what kind of girl is she? They gave her an obsidian mask — that means she's worth making into a bloodkin."
After a moment's thought, Patrick tossed the mask aside as if it didn't matter. With a feast spread out right before his eyes, he had no interest in fretting over such details.
"Well, I can always ask after I've made her a bloodkin."
His mind made up, Patrick opened his mouth wide and slowly approached Yoanna. He couldn't hold back any longer. He was going mad with the urge to sink his fangs into that fair skin. The desire to defile a devout maiden rose from the deepest depths of his heart...
"What were you planning to do if I screamed?"
"The private rooms have soundproofing magic anyw— huh?"
Patrick answered without thinking — and met Yoanna's eyes.
In that instant, a sword forged as if from a shard of the sun pierced through Patrick's shoulder.
A man who'd yanked out his own teeth raw, reduced to this by something so simple...
"GYAAAAAH?! My shoulder — fuck, my SHOULDEEEEER!!!"
"...You're loud."
Screaming far louder than a newborn baby, Patrick thrashed on the floor. Enduring pain that felt like his veins were on fire, he stretched a hand toward the private room door. If he could just open it, there were plenty of people he could call for help.
But was she going to just sit there and let him?
Slash!
Pulling the sword from Patrick's shoulder, Yoanna severed his left arm. Instead of blood, black water gushed from the stump.
"It hurts — it huuuuurts?!"
Starting with the left arm, Yoanna cut off his right arm, then both legs. Amazingly, Patrick thrashed with a will to live, even with a body that should have been dead already. Smeared head to toe in black water, he flailed and screamed.
"You — what the hell are you, you bitch?!"
"I'm sorry, but I believe you're mistaken about something."
Crunch!
Yoanna drove her sword through Patrick's stomach and slowly lifted it. With his body far lighter than before, Patrick split open very, very slowly...
"I believe I'm the one who should be asking the questions here."
"S-spare me! Tell me what you want and I'll answer everything — just put me do—"
"Giving orders again?"
"AAAAAGH!!! Don't shake me! I mean — please don't shake me?!"
Each slight shake sped up the splitting, and Patrick begged for mercy. Having thoroughly established the hierarchy, Yoanna dropped him to the floor. Looking down at Patrick writhing like a wounded caterpillar, she asked:
"Tell me everything you know."
"C-could you be a bit more specific..."
"Trash talking back?"
"Hic!"
Patrick trembled as he watched a hand stained crimson approach him.
A short while later, accompanied by a foul stench like boiling sewage, Patrick's desperate screams filled the room.