Chapter 121
Chapter 121
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 121
Chapter Title: Camilla
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Ian's overnight stay was in the end room on the second floor of the village hall. It didn't seem like anyone had lived there in ages; there was hardly any trace of daily life. Just a lone bed and a table stood there, nothing more.
"It's not the greatest room, but it should be plenty fine for a night's sleep."
Camilla was the one showing him around. She bounced on the balls of her feet with a bright smile, her body shivering lightly.
"Ugh, feel how cold the floor is. I'll go tell Grandma and Grandpa to turn on the heating. This is way too chilly!"
"I'd appreciate that."
Ian followed her into the room, trailing a finger along the desk. Dust piled up in the wake of his touch.
"Is your room right next door, Miss Camilla?"
"Ah, yeah. If you have any questions, feel free to come by. I'll do my best to answer!"
Camilla clenched her fists with a confident grin. Ian flashed a gentle smile.
"Thank you. Then I'll unpack a bit."
"Want some help?"
"No, that's fine. I prefer handling it myself."
"Hmm... Got it. Have a good night!"
With that, Camilla waved goodbye and left the room. Ian kept smiling until she was gone, then dropped the expression the instant she vanished. His face turned ice-cold.
'Smooth sailing so far.'
He brushed the dust off a heavily coated chair and sat down. The wooden seat creaked and wobbled beneath him.
'Two options left now.'
He pulled the pistol hidden in his coat and set it on the table. The heavy, cold metal glinted in the moonlight.
Click.
Pulling back the slide revealed shimmering silver bullets.
Vampire-specific rounds made with pure silver, bone dust, and a splash of holy water.
High-ranking vampires had natural resistance to weaknesses, so cheap stuff wouldn't land a solid hit. That's why he'd shelled out for these premium ones.
No regrets. With a well-paying client, a little foundational spending wasn't a big deal.
"...Hoo."
Ian left the silver-loaded pistol as is, lit a cigarette, and leaned back. The chair groaned as it tipped.
Two stances available now. First: storm her room and ambush with "I know what you are, you bitch!" Second: wait for her to come. Clear pros and cons either way.
Honestly, no real difference which he picked. She wouldn't survive the night regardless.
'No need for a fuss. Neutralize her at dawn, capture or grab the body, and bail.'
Obviously, no plans to say goodbye to the elders. A kid goes missing the day after an outsider shows up? He'd be suspect number one—obvious even to a stray dog.
Not worried about a manhunt, though. He'd hunted vampires at the club without cops on his tail; no reason it'd change here. The Cartel handled things cleanly.
"...Gotta snag a few limbs even if I hand over the corpse."
Muttering to himself, Ian packed up. He killed all the lights, relying solely on his lighter's flame to gather essentials.
And so.
Midnight struck.
*
"...Time."
At the stroke of midnight, Camilla shot up from the floor.
Moonlight poured over her pale face, bleaching it even whiter.
Her eyes—iris, sclera, all—were blood-red. A telltale sign of surging bloodlust.
Normally, she'd hold it back. But the sweet scent wafting from the man next door? Impossible to ignore. She wanted to burst in, sink her fangs into his neck, and rip out his veins—right now.
No need to resist. Drooling, Camilla slipped quietly from her room and stood before Ian's door.
Just to be sure, she tried mind-reading. No thoughts came through. Proof he was asleep.
True, thick mental barriers blocked it—but she didn't peg him for that type. No such vibes at all.
If she'd wanted certainty, she should've probed earlier. No good opportunity, though.
Whatever. She could slaughter most mages, psychics, or vampire hunters without breaking a sweat. A neck bite? Piece of cake, even if it hurt a bit.
'He's cute, too. Might as well make him a toy while I'm at it?'
Grinning wickedly, she cracked open Ian's door.
No sound.
"...".
The pitch-black room held only a strangely shaped lighter, flickering alone. On the bed, a man huddled under the covers up to his head, shifting in sleep with eyes closed. Camilla's eyes curved into crescents as she crept toward him.
No sound.
Drool dripping, she stared at Ian's face.
Blissfully unaware, sleeping soundly. His slightly parted lips revealed teeth and a red tongue—too much. Her elongated nails sliced slowly through the blanket covering him.
No sound.
In the silence, the torn blanket revealed Ian's upper body.
He wasn't in pajamas. He wore a black coat.
"...?"
Camilla's face went blank. Her lips parted as if to say "Huh?"—but Ian was faster. He narrowed his eyes, aimed his hidden pistol at her gut.
And pulled the trigger with a smile.
Bang.
From those mocking lips came only deadly silence.
In the hush, the muzzle flashed, and a silver bullet slammed into Camilla's abdomen.
"...!"
Her face twisted in agony. Seizing the stagger, Ian pistol-whipped her face, then shot her knee and shoulder. Joints shattered, she crumpled. He kicked her gut, shoving the barrel into her gaping mouth.
Crunch.
Hot metal forced between her fangs. The sheer force dented the gun, but Ian didn't care. He pressed a finger to his lips—shut up.
"...!"
Camilla didn't comply. Bloodshot eyes glaring, she swung her claws.
At the blatant chance blown, Ian backpedaled and fired repeatedly. She blocked with her grimoire as a shield. Claws met Deep Sea Chronicles' cover in sparks; her intact arm melted into black seawater.
Her eyes bulged. Only then did she clock the grimoire. Too late.
Ian tossed the empty pistol and stomped her head.
A thwack echoed only in his mind; fangs flew. A bullet hole gaped in her shot-through throat.
'Extra breather now.'
Chuckling softly, Ian grabbed her hair and smashed her face into the floor. Vampire blood gushed out in torrents.
"Hoo..."
Only now did he snap shut the Zippo lid. Sound returned to the world.
"Kahk, kehk..."
"Thanks for coming. Saved me the trouble."
Squish...
Ian pinned her back with his foot. Air whistled from the new throat hole; all she managed was ragged gasps and faint mumbles.
"Y-You... a mage...?"
"Figured as much."
Ian thumped her shoulder with the grimoire and plopped down on her back. Chest and gut crushed, she heaved.
"Urk...!"
"High vampire, huh? Silver rounds aren't enough to kill, even premium ones."
"Fucking mage bastard...!"
"Yeah, nice meeting you too."
Ian smirked, driving a stake from his coat pocket through her thigh. She screamed silently.
"...!!"
"Not really into watching people suffer. Stay put, and I'll haul you off nice and easy. Can you heal?"
"...B-Blood..."
"How much?"
"...About 1L."
"Half of half that."
"...Asshole."
Camilla slammed her head down, cursing. Ian trickled blood from her throat hole into her mouth, propped his elbow on his knee, and rested his chin.
"Plenty to spill, I bet. Don't wanna die hurting? Answer up. No forcing it."
That's forcing it, you crazy spell-slinging bastard.
Camilla felt the words rise but swallowed them with miraculous restraint.
"First question. How do vampires multiply? Sex? You popped any out?"
"You mad dog fuck...!"
This time, she couldn't hold back.