How long had it been?
"......"
The dark eyes beyond the mirror settled into calm.
The raw fear and revulsion surging up. His entire body scread under the stress that had occupied his brain, yet Yeon-woo sliced those clamorous emotions into fine pieces with razor-sharp reason and shoved them into a corner.
'...Letting emotions influence my actions isn't sothing a man my age should be doing.'
Though it wasn't what he'd wished for, Yeon-woo still had his role as General Manager to fulfill. Only that logic could push him forward.
'A blade at my back is better than so vague hope.'
Lee Yeon-woo had always preferred what was clear.
***
Research is.
It may vary by case, but broadly speaking, it is a cycle of identifying a problem, forming a hypothesis, attempting verification, then revising and re-verifying. No one knows the answer from the start.
If it can even be called research, at least.
"......"
The ti for verification had simply arrived.
"......"
"......"
When their gazes t.
'...Really, truly.'
Without gloves on, he gripped the hunting dagger.
'I'll try anything to stay alive.'
I can only hope I have an actor's talent.
***
In the man's eyes, Yeon-woo covered his mouth whenever he was troubled.
When irritated or bewildered, he pressed his thumb firmly against his temple, and when fatigued, pressed the bridge of his nose. He straightened his clothes periodically as though he'd die if disheveled, and walked without making a sound.
'Those unexpectedly long, sharp features....'
Did he smile in those distinctly crescent-shaped curves because he knew his eyes were sharp?
'Certainly not a face that looks sociable.'
The smile vanished just before readjusting his glasses. The outer corners of his eyes rose when his energy flagged, while his brows drooped in the opposite direction. Then once more, the corners of his mouth curled smoothly upward.
He knew how he appeared, and was skilled at using his body exactly as he wished.
'And so—he is human.'
Human habits.
Human behavior,
human thought.
If he was human and not a monster, there was no reason he couldn't be hunted.
'His conduct is solid, so breaking him won't be easy, but the fuller the vessel, the more easily it shatters....'
However, in the man's estimation.
"......"
"......"
This... was indeed an unexpected situation.
The skin was still pale, which only made the reddened eyes stand out more. The eyes that had always been so sharp were now bruised, and tear tracks still lingered on the face.
"Have you been crying?"
When he spoke without much intent, he saw the body stiffen in denial. Those shoulders, always held straight, were hunched—acting like a herbivore, of all things.
He found the ill-fitting sight laughable.
"I'd thought you wouldn't do this. How surprising."
What I consud was like that.
"You left so fiercely when I was watching."
Humans were colorful, and their emotions carried flavor. And Yeon-woo's 'positive emotions' had not been sothing as flimsy as simple hope or goodwill. They were special, dignified, and had force behind them.
"Ah, do you need comfort, perhaps?"
"......"
"If so, I could help."
"......"
"So you can be at ease...."
A sense of mission? Responsibility? Self-assurance sufficient to act according to reason, or a will that drew boundaries for others' sake. Sothing bright and pure white, rooted in self-control.
It had been like candy too hard to lt. Like a warm appetizer that was uncomfortable in its tenderness. His positivity had been closer to a decision than an emotion, and that was precisely why he'd wished to taste more of it.
"I'll help you."
So.
"Why don't you stop doing such... stupid, senseless things?"
"Why."
"It's not as though I'm incapable of asking questions."
He was the one who wanted to ask.
"Why?"
No—so... suddenly?
'Really?'
Didn't he think this was far too out of nowhere?
At the sight of Yeon-woo holding a blade to his own throat, the man stopped smiling entirely and made no effort to hide his disbelief. So this was what he'd been doing in his room, coughing up blood.
Preposterous.
"Even third-rate theater needs better continuity than this."
One mont the man was expounding on noble conviction and restraint, and the next he'd burst into tears in the middle of the stage. Of course, human emotions did lurch about that shalessly, but....
'And yet there was no warning sign?'
Even as he retraced his mory for any missed clues, he continued.
"This is deeply unpleasant to watch."
Fear was an emotion like a fruit. It had a narrative arc. So how absurd it was to see soone pressing a jewel-and-gold-adorned hunting dagger to his own throat. Sothing was clearly being misjudged.
'I'd heard the indigenous spirits of this land are particularly rich in humanity.'
Finding the joke excessive, he deliberately scolded the young spirit.
"The blood scent is thick—a well-maintained blade."
"Yes, it was... difficult to find."
"......"
...Was that not a lie?
"It looks like it belonged to a nobleman."
The voice sounded gentle enough, seemingly composed, but the veins stood out on a jaw clenched with excessive force. Senses that had been obscured by disbelief finally began to creak into motion.
'This, to my perception, is probably... too much to call a lie....'
Even when the mind warned otherwise, there was an instinctive gut feeling that struck at once.
He caught glimpses of hands that occasionally twitched spasmodically from fear, and self-reproach born of reason not yet abandoned. Since the sorrow was unceasing, the exhaustion was understandable enough.
Like soone who truly seed on the verge of doing sothing, or soone already too spent to be in their right mind.
"......"
"...This is quite an insult."
Was it not? For a being over whom he held the right to hunt to damage itself was tantamount to an infringent of his rights. For a nobleman, the 'finishing blow' was like that. And right now, Yeon-woo was doing exactly that.
"Do you want
to be angry?"
It was a sincere question, but what ca out in response was a cracked, hoarse voice.
"I'm frightened."
"...My apologies."
The veins on the backs of his hands stood as though they'd burst. Devoured by fear and stripped of control over his own body, yet forcing himself to hold steady because he hated it—that was the figure before him.
"You don't need to say more."
"If I break down any further here...."
"I told you to stop."
"I'd rather—"
"Shut your mouth."
Words he did not want to hear.
"I expected you to be a bit more... wise, and... dignified."
He wished for that one to remain noble until the end.
"And yet you do this?"
"Are you angry?"
"Oh, this is foul play."
It was blasphemy. The displeasure was unbearable. Irritating, stomach-churning.
"If you were going to do this, you should never have started."
He wanted to kill Yeon-woo. Devour him whole and make even that death part of his own narrative. And yet Yeon-woo was slitting his own throat?
It was the act of stealing what was his, clearly. That much was certain.
"You...."
I tasted your emotions.
'That nobility.'
'That resilience.'
'And will.'
For such a being to damage itself was an insult to the one who had relished that flavor.
"That's not sothing you should be doing."
"What is the reason?"
"I know you."
"You're wrong."
With a face crushed under despair and emptied to nothing, he continued, looking as though he might shatter at any mont.
"I'm human—how could I not go mad?"
"Hah."
A pitiful lamb who had lost all pride and collapsed entirely.
That obvious, contrived narrative of ruin was, conversely, perfectly gratifying the arrogant tastes of a vampire who loved classical downfalls. And at the sa ti, a strange displeasure arose.
The other continued.
"You won't say this is the first ti you've seen such a case."
Oh, he'd seen plenty. It wasn't as though such prey hadn't existed. When only negative emotions remained, humans easily lost their minds, and dying after that was the work of a mont. They tried to let go of everything.
Because silence was preferable to pain....
"...Ah."
THWACK—!!
The dagger, driven deep into his own neck.
Blood flowing in the wake of the dagger as it slid smoothly out.
"......"
"......"
A wet, glutinous sound accompanied by the rasp of choking coughs.
"Gkh, ugh...."
"......"
"Cough."
With a SQUELCH, his shoulder was gouged; with a SNAP, a tendon severed. In succession, a CRACK split his sternum. Blood poured ceaselessly, enough to pool on the floor.
'Why is he....'
He couldn't tear his eyes from that vividly flowing blood.
'He has no reason to do this.'
No—if he had a reason, then that was why he was doing it.
'Why? What does he intend to accomplish by spilling all this blood? What kind of sche is this?'
Perhaps it was a poisoned feast. Was he truly staking everything on blood? But at this point? Or else—or else, he really was weaker than imagined....
Too pathetic to et my expectations.
'But how intoxicating.'
'The coppery scent of blood stinging my nose.'
'Sweet sacred blood.'
That rendered all this confusion powerless.
'Wasn't he perfect?'
Enraptured by the mont of 'completion' that had arrived unbidden, dread of yet never hoped for. And yet unable to conceal his displeasure before this wretched scene. And before all that, above all, dumbfounded.
What was this? What manner of act was this? As he simply stood and watched, the other approached, one step at a ti.
"......"
"......"
In that contradictory silence, the dying Yeon-woo slowly turned to look at the man.
"......"
In that instant, the man felt a strange sense of dissonance.
The shell of the 'fragile, pitiful lamb' that had enveloped the other just monts ago evaporated in a single breath, as though it had been nothing but an illusion.
The trembling shoulders sank into a composure that was chilling, and on a face that should have been twisted with fear and despair, only dry, sardonic eyes glinted like a serpent's.
That was not the face of soone driven mad by fear.
"...Not—"
"...What?"
In that split second, words continued in a whisper.
"—...You're not eating?"
CRUNCH—!!!
"!!"
With a trendous noise, a 'phlebotomy device' was driven into the man's neck.
"That stings."
"What—"
"So did I."
Normally, sothing like this shouldn't have been able to attach to him at all. It was strange—sothing was wrong. From the mont he'd stabbed his own neck, his head had gone blank, his body had taken on physical form, and this damned device was drawing out his 'blood.'
His body wouldn't respond.
"What is—"
"Ahahaha!!"
Bewilderingly, Yeon-woo ran.
In that gleeful laughter, not a trace of the despair he'd been steeped in monts ago could be found. It seed to have evaporated without leaving so much as a residue. The receding footsteps were chillingly light and brisk.
That was fitting of a young spirit, and yet,
'What is he trying to do...?'
'He shouldn't be in any state to move like that.'
'He's lost a great deal of blood.'
Was it the latent power of this place? Was that what propped up a body that should have collapsed at any mont, enabling it to run and laugh?
'No, so this is.'
This was.
"......"
...Ah,
'I see.'
CLINK—
Pulling free of the 'phlebotomy device' lodged in his neck.
He suddenly recalled the voice that had slyly pressed, carrying the scent of victory.
—...You're not eating?
"Ha."
He'd been tested, damn it all, and had fallen for it spectacularly. For such a preposterous bluff.
"I see...."
Of course. Of course it was.
***
"There's no way he isn't a perfect human!"
***
Laughter spilled unbidden between Yeon-woo's lips as he sprinted down the blood-dripping corridor. Perhaps it was the aftermath of losing his positive emotions—in absurd situations, holding back laughter had beco nearly impossible.
"A success."
"Yes! Splendid!"
"When he called it third-rate theater, I was sure I'd been caught."
All that furious rubbing of his eyes until they bruised had been worth it.
"I went this far and he didn't eat, let alone show the slightest sign of holding back."
Testing a vampire with 'You'll ignore this? How about this? And this?' had left his entire body in tatters. Blood surged from his neck and upper body, thick and viscous, but Yeon-woo paid it no mind and repaired the torn wounds.
"He's really more... emotional than he looks."
"Good audience!"
"If I'd known it'd work this well, I should've tried crying."
Yeon-woo had needed to determine whether his gamble had any chance of succeeding. And so he'd stabbed himself in sequence, gauging the other's reactions. And clearly, The Guest Without Taste had been anything but a hunter.
Even if he excused it as being 'for the sake of a more perfect hunt'—well.
"Nothing's more telling than a mouth that suddenly can't stop talking."
"Coco. Guarantee!"
"It's because he's got no small amount of thoughts churning."
"Complicated."
"Sothing like that."
And so he laughed.
If he was caught next ti, they'd feed on 'negative emotions.' After that, 'all the blood in his body' was next in line, so he didn't exactly have an abundance of leeway. But look.
The opponent had crumbled that badly over a re handful of als and so positive emotions.
'I'm going to win.'
That was precisely what he'd confird here.
***
"......"
"Cough, gkh."
"......"
"Ugh... uwegh...."
"......"
"Haah...."
He felt like he was going insane.
"Ah...."
The second round of tag ended as Yeon-woo's defeat, yielding one ID Card and fourteen Sealed Records.
He'd only needed one more.
"May I eat?"
"My luck couldn't be worse."
"......"
"Three penalties in a row."
"......"
"...Ha ha!"
In a way, it was cathartic.
"Let's try again."
This was the last.
The last chance.
Reviews
All reviews (0)