Chapter 25 :

<25>

With a dry gunshot, the shell casing sprang out. But at that close distance, she tilted her head and dodged the bullet.

Of course, she hadn’t avoided it completely—the round grazed her shoulder, struck the ground, ricocheted once, and slammed into a nearby utility pole. Even so, she had evaded a shot fired from point-blank range.

“Ah, damn. You look like hell!”

The talkative male vampire said this as he straightened up. The female vampire watching him gave a faint smile.

“Idiot. Vampire hunters specialize in ambushes…!”

Before she could even finish speaking, she hurled the RX-125. Se-gun, startled, threw himself off the motorcycle and hit the ground.

Crash.

It hadn’t even been long since it came out of the repair shop, yet the RX-125 plunged into the slope again and rolled down. Fortunately—or unfortunately—Se-gun had already slid down the incline and didn’t witness the sight.

Gush, gush.

Where Se-gun landed was a drainage channel where rainwater from the hill rushed in. Even as he slipped in the water, he immediately forced himself up and drew his Type 54 pistol. But the male vampire charged in and thrust his face right in front of Se-gun’s.

“You look delicious!”

Shouting that, the bastard swung his hand. Se-gun flung himself backward again, tumbling down the slope while firing both pistols in rapid succession. But the male vampire had already leapt back with astonishing agility, landing atop a utility pole.

Slash!

Se-gun slid down over the rainwater again, descending the slope. Still, the attack hadn’t been entirely ineffective—there were slight bullet wounds on the male vampire’s limbs. In return, however, the front of Se-gun’s helmet had been torn open and completely shattered. If he had reacted even a fraction later, his head would have been blown off.

“He’s impressive.”

“Yeah.”

The two vampires chatted idly as they spoke. That grated terribly on Se-gun’s nerves. Chattering leisurely in the middle of a fight—glancing aside as if distracted—wasn’t that the same as not even seeing him as an opponent?

“Ahh. Blood splattered.”

“Yeah. I told you to be careful.”

The man and woman in black stood fussing between a streetlamp and a utility pole. Se-gun clenched his teeth as he watched them.

He still had quite a few rounds overall, but in his magazines there were only three Tokarev rounds and five in the Type 54. Even if he emptied them all, he didn’t feel confident he could defeat those vampires.

“Anyway, shall we replenish what we spilled?”

As soon as the male vampire said that, the female vampire leapt down from the pole toward Se-gun. They were like siblings playing with their food.

“You bastards!”

Grinding his teeth, Se-gun raised his gun at the vampire charging toward him.

* * *

On the rooftop parking structure of the department store, at its very top floor, a priest dressed in black stood waiting. The Catholic cassock and the contrasting silver hair suited him all too well.

“The one who kept avoiding me… what change of heart made him come out after even designating the location?”

He quietly called toward the elevator. The thick vehicle elevator had excellent soundproofing. No one would be able to hear such a low voice amid the rain, engines, and the usual chaos of this place.

Yet at that moment, the alloy doors slid open, and a white man in a pristine white suit stepped out.

“You’re not asking because you don’t know the reason, are you? Mr. Stalker? If you keep waiting in front like that, people might get the wrong idea.”

“Oh? I was just wondering since when you became such a fragile vampire who can’t handle stress. Or is it that you intend to protect even the lower vampires of your bloodline?”

The black-clad priest, Sylvester, sneered as he looked at the True Vampire Phantom stepping out of the elevator. But True Vampire Phantom approached with the relaxed air of greeting an old friend.

“Why not talk for a bit? After all, we have time—almost an eternity of it, don’t we?”

“For the lord of rats who lives by stealing the time of others to speak of eternity… how utterly laughable.”

“Well.”

True Vampire Phantom brushed aside Sylvester’s barbed remark and leaned his upper body over the rooftop railing, gazing at the rain-soaked city. Looking down at the gray city together with a True Vampire Hunter felt strangely new.

“Surely you’re not suggesting we start fighting without any flair? I thought both you and I were rather attached to aesthetics.”

“I’d prefer not to be lumped into your category. Aesthetics or not, this is hardly a suitable place for a fight.”

If they were going to fight regardless of the humans around them, he would have simply sniped him back at the hotel. At that, Phantom burst into laughter and climbed up onto the railing.

Beyond it was a safety net, but even so, the view below was dizzying. Walking along the edge, True Vampire Phantom spoke.

“It may be late to say this, but I… don’t think I can be a vampire who sheds tears. Why not torment another True Vampire instead? One of the traditionalists like Arcadia or Hecate, or perhaps Ireland Astate…”

“For something you call speech, that’s remarkably close to barking. Tired of learning human words, so now you’re trying dog language?”

In some ways, this cold True Vampire Hunter seemed even more vampiric than the vampires. He drew a knife from his coat and regarded Phantom.

“Anyway, I believe we’ve talked enough… shall we begin? Surely you didn’t summon me just to chat?”

“Why not?”

Phantom raised his hand.

At once, a helicopter descended from the sky.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.

The rotor tore through the air, and fierce wind blasted down from above. Sylvester closed his coat against the gusts and looked up.

“…”

His expression hardened.

The helicopter carried broadcasting equipment, and a cameraman in a rain poncho was filming Sylvester and Phantom.

In this situation… there was no way he could fight. With cameras rolling, how could he attack Row—who, in appearance at least, was entirely human—with a knife?

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You call yourself a True Vampire—what a disgraceful spectacle. Have you not defeated me before?”

Though young, Phantom was among the strongest of the True Vampires—said to surpass even the ancient ones like Jeokyo and Changun. And yet… why go to such lengths to avoid fighting an opponent he had already beaten?

But that was precisely what made True Vampire Phantom terrifying. If he were merely a beast that sucked blood, no matter how savage his fangs and claws, there would be little to fear.

Even if he used sorcery and strange arts, those were merely tools of violence. Whether that tool was a gun, magic, or claws—what difference did it make in the end?

What was truly frightening was wealth and power. With money, one could buy even a human soul; with power, one could command even those who could not be bought with money. In civilized society, human influence was far more terrifying than unreal violence.

“I am king of vampires—and king of humans. For someone like me to confront you in barbaric fashion would offend my aesthetics. The times when savagery itself was law are long past.”

True Vampire Phantom raised a hand toward the sky. His deep golden hair whipped in the storm, his white coat fluttering. He bore the unmistakable presence of a monarch. Sylvester had to admit he had been too hasty.

Unlike other True Vampires, Phantom possessed that much power and authority. The despair that had accompanied him for so many years felt newly heavy.

But if Phantom was a king, then Sylvester was the one who hunted kings. Even in despair, he would not retreat without dignity.

“Very well. For the sake of royal authority, I’ll withdraw here. I’ll even acknowledge that you may choose the battlefield and the time.”

With that, Sylvester turned and walked into the elevator, his black coat swirling.

“Then… I suppose I’ll have to make you willing to fight.”

As Sylvester disappeared inside, the motor whirred and the sound gradually faded. Watching the True Vampire Hunter depart, Phantom covered his face with his hand.

“You’ve grown, Sylvester.”

He murmured this as he stood upon the railing, gazing down at the city. The gray rain was slowly letting up.

* * *

In the residential district, dogs began barking one by one. Perhaps because of the gunfire and explosions. Their startled howls carried surprisingly far through the rain.

Yet not a single person leaned out to look. Though no one would stick their head out during gunfire, this was strange. It felt almost like a movie set.

“You bastards!”

Se-gun pulled the trigger and twisted his body aside, but the female vampire flew toward him at high speed, heedless of the bullets striking her. Was this the limitation of the Tokarev round’s weak stopping power? Even silver-treated hollow points seemed insufficient to halt a high-VT vampire with a single shot.

“Got~ you! One!”

She said it with childlike innocence, as if playing tag, grabbed Se-gun’s arm, and swung him violently. The world spun around him. With monstrous strength, she hurled him.

“Two!”

The male vampire waiting atop the pole caught Se-gun midair, spun, and threw him upward.

It was like a perfect pass from a ball game. The problem was, the thing being thrown wasn’t a ball—it was a person… and when you’re hurled fourteen meters into the air by vampires, survival is unlikely.

“Three!”

As if that weren’t enough, a third attack came. Se-gun hastily raised his guard. Something crimson tore through the air and smashed into both his arms—the keratinized flesh fragments that had been fired earlier.

They were small projectiles… but their speed and force rivaled bullets. Even as he blocked them, his arms broke, and his entire body was blasted backward.

Crunch!

He crashed into a magnolia tree in the yard of a fairly large private house. The well-grown, mature tree snapped under the impact of his falling body.

Like a doll with a broken neck, Se-gun struck the tree several times before landing on the garden lawn. Blood sprayed, staining the wood.

“…”

When pain is too intense, even a scream won’t come. Se-gun lay sprawled like a broken doll, unable to breathe properly.

“Ahahaha.”

The black-clad vampires descended gracefully from the sky. In the pouring gray rain, they looked like a scene from a black-and-white film.

“Wasn’t that a bit too rough?”

“Yeah. At this rate there won’t be much left to eat.”

They looked down at the bloodied Se-gun. Even in that state, he struggled desperately to rise.

But after falling from that height, his entire body shattered, there was no way he could move properly. At least he had collided with the tree mid-fall—and the racer suit he wore had decent protective capability.

Wiiiiing.

The sound of rain wavered. At least, that was how Se-gun perceived it. His equilibrium shattered… his senses twisted. In this condition, there was no way he could defeat the vampires.

“Well then, shall we eat?”

The female vampire raised her hand. It began to bubble like boiling water, and sharp teeth sprouted from it. The male vampire likewise transformed his arm as he approached Se-gun.

“Ugh…!”

Se-gun forced himself upright, only to collapse forward again. The damage was far beyond what adrenaline could endure. It felt as if his entire body were being torn apart. This wasn’t something grit, stubbornness, or sheer willpower could overcome.

A fall might not easily kill a person unless it’s from a considerable height, but in terms of stopping power, few things were more effective. Watching Se-gun struggle, the vampires chuckled as if he were cute and swung their arms.

Pop, pop!

At that moment, a faint, almost inaudible gunshot rang out—and the female vampire’s head exploded, and she collapsed instantly.

“Ghk! Was there another one?”

The male vampire, who had flung himself backward to evade danger, turned in shock toward the direction the bullet had come from. There, crouched atop a wall with a suppressed Colt Government .45, was Deok-yeon.

Unlike Se-gun, who had rushed in nearly unarmed after finishing his part-time job, Deok-yeon was fully equipped—from blades to a Spectra bulletproof vest.

“You crazy bastard. You were going to brawl with vampires without even using Psychedelic Moon? Is that what I taught you?”

He said this, clenched the Colt between his teeth, and brought up the shotgun slung diagonally across his back. The black-clad vampire rushed at him at high speed, leaving an afterimage—but the shotgun fired, and with a thunderous blast the vampire was blown backward.

Shotguns were useful at close range, sure—but to hit such a fast-moving target so precisely? It was astonishing.

The vampire let out a grotesque scream as he was hurled back. The power of the pump-action shotgun was immense; even a single hit shredded a vampire’s body.

“Kraaa!”

But the vampire did not die. He staggered upright and vaulted over the wall into the alley. Deok-yeon threw the knife at his waist toward Se-gun and shouted:

“I’ll chase that bastard! You suck that bitch dry and hurry over to guard the goal!”

With that, he jumped down beyond the wall.

Watching him go, Se-gun felt something strange rather than relief.

‘If you were going to use a shotgun anyway, why bother putting a suppressor on the pistol?’

Careful not to move his broken arm too much, Se-gun slipped his hand into his pocket. His suit had a cargo pocket on the thigh. As he reached in, pain shot up from his waist.

Maybe his pelvis was cracked. Or perhaps a rib had shattered and the pain was radiating downward. Gritting through it, he forced out the blood extractor and drained blood from the vampire’s corpse, injecting it into his own body.

Piiiiing.

His head rang. Just from the vampire blood entering his system, most of the pain faded. But clearly… perhaps because she was of a True Vampire’s bloodline, the blood felt different from that of cheap vampires.

‘Is that why she was so strong?’

He looked down at the headless female body. When hostile, he hadn’t noticed—but now she seemed small and pretty. Pale skin, transformed arm… and the missing head aside.

“Ugh—!”

He suppressed the urge to vomit. Was it because he was low on blood? He inserted the extractor again, drew more, and injected it into his arm.

His wounds slowly began to heal. Broken bones rejoined, gashes torn open by the tree sealed in moments. Once he could move again, he rose immediately.

As Deok-yeon had said.

A goalkeeper guards the goal.

Se-gun picked up the knife from the ground. It was a black, phosphor-treated blade about sixty centimeters long, sheathed in a nylon sword holster. When he drew it, a 420 stainless steel blade was revealed.

Commonly called a “ninjato”, the 420 stainless blade carried all the over-the-top Yankee fascination with ninjas—but it was extremely practical.

He slung it over his shoulder, removed the Tokarev magazine, and as he ran, inserted bullets into it. He had only taken one magazine each when he seized the guns from the gangsters… No matter how many rounds he had, they were inconvenient to use unless loaded beforehand.

“Huff… huff…”

Se-gun sprinted up the hill and reached the entrance of Jin Yu-mi’s house. It seemed the vampires had already stormed in—blood and flesh were pooled at the entrance, mixed with rainwater. Like a slaughterhouse hosed down carelessly.

In the yard—the source of all that blood—one man and one woman lay torn apart, their remains mingled together. Poetically one might say, “They finally became one.” But more bluntly, it resembled “minced meat”.

“Damn it!”

Se-gun kicked open the basement door and aimed inside. It was pitch dark. But the stench of blood stabbed at his nose. He moved forward, following his memory of the basement’s layout.

Rip… riiip…

A grotesque sound. Probably killing someone and drinking their blood. He fought back nausea.

The horrific sights and sounds that had accompanied the slaughter of his own family were being recreated here.

‘Stay calm… If you lose control here, you’ll die.’

Perhaps because vampire blood coursed through him, his heart pounded violently. His emotions refused to settle. He tore open a Psychedelic Moon capsule and poured the powder onto the back of his hand. The rain dissolved it, but he forced it into his nose.

He nearly sneezed—but even that sensation vanished.

The drug’s effect came frighteningly fast.

‘Ah!’

Even in darkness, outlines slowly emerged. It was astonishing. As his senses sharpened, sounds around him broke apart and reassembled—like separate audio tracks composited into a single image.

Each raindrop striking the roof felt tangible. The outlines in the dark granted him vision superior to any night-vision device.

He walked into the room.

The wide wooden floor—kitchen and living space combined—was littered with children, brutally dismembered. Their bodies torn apart so easily felt unreal. Like synthetic zombies shredded by chainsaws in a cheap splatter film. Reality could be worse than movies—but Jin Yu-mi was nowhere to be seen.

Jin Yu-mi… likely in the room. And unlikely to be alive.

He opened the door calmly.

“Ah.”

There stood a girl.

She wore a blue two-piece stained with blood. She looked gaunt—but pitifully delicate. Not extraordinarily beautiful… but yes. She resembled Jin Yu-mi.

Strange, wasn’t it? She had been the victim, and Jin Yu-mi the perpetrator. She had sought revenge—and achieved it. So why did they look alike?

Before her lay Jin Yu-mi, split clean in two.

Two women who resembled each other. One had killed the other.

Jin Yu-mi, who had drifted above Seoul in her absence of reality.

Yoon Mi-hye, who had sunk endlessly into herself in a hospital.

Perpetrator and victim had switched places. The story had ended. Jin Yu-mi lay dead, a Psychedelic Moon capsule still in her system—wearing an almost intoxicated expression even in such a grotesque death.

The two lookalikes…

Se-gun raised his gun without a word.

There were no words.

No resistance.

Gunshots echoed through the torrential rain. Tokarev rounds pierced her, ricocheted around the room, one grazing Se-gun’s cheek and leaving a long streak of blood.

He lowered the gun, raised the ninjato, and slashed at Yoon Mi-hye’s neck. He kicked her face with his boots and thrust the blade into her convulsing heart.

“…”

It felt… dry. He even felt bored. He had expected a flood of emotion—but that was a pointless hope.

Using the blood extractor, he drained as much blood as he could from her.

“Oh, right.”

At the entrance, he paused and fired down the hallway. The bullet struck a stack of butane gas canisters, triggering an explosion—but under Psychedelic Moon’s effect, he was able to fling himself backward and avoid the debris and shockwave.

“Ha…”

He grabbed a shopping bag, filled it with blood, and walked away from the house now engulfed in flames. Perhaps because a storm was moving in, heavy rain poured down. The fire would soon be extinguished.

He descended the hill.

Leaving the house behind.

Deok-yeon, bloodied, leaned against a utility pole and looked up at him.

“Hey!”

“…”

Se-gun said nothing. He tossed the used ninjato back to Deok-yeon and lifted the fallen RX-125. The handlebars were bent—it was no longer rideable.

Soaked like a drowned rat, Se-gun set it down. It had been his older brother’s keepsake… but it seemed he had reached the limit.

“You okay?”

Deok-yeon asked, genuinely concerned.

Se-gun turned to him expressionlessly. Rain streamed down his face like a waterfall.

“You’ve got your Pride, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me a ride?”

“Sure. Let’s get out of here.”

Deok-yeon loaded the emotionless Se-gun into the Pride and drove off through the rain-lashed alley.

Police cars and fire trucks blocked the street. Gunshots followed by a gas explosion—no matter how indifferent society was, someone would report that.

But when police arrived, they found neither bullets nor shell casings. Only a shattered semi-basement house and corpses ruined by explosion.

Even if Korean police were overworked and inclined to downplay incidents… there were too many strange elements. No bullets were recovered, yet bullet marks riddled the building. Autopsy results showed the victims had died before the explosion.

Then what could tear human beings apart like that?

* * *

In a park near the residential area—still under investigation—a jet-black Corvette Coupe sat parked. On the bench beside it, the silver-haired priest and a green-bleached young man watched pigeons peck at feed.

“Are they pigeons or chickens…”

The green-bleached youth sighed. The silver-haired priest raised a hand to signal silence.

“Spit it out…”

Several pigeons began coughing and regurgitated dented copper alloys—the bullets that had passed through vampire bodies, retrieved after being swallowed.

“I attached Deok-yeon because I was worried… Pathetic. What was he thinking, not even retrieving the shell casings?”

The silver-haired priest, Sylvester, criticized as he focused his magic. Using rats, stray cats, dogs, pigeons, he had gathered bullets and casings. Wearing latex gloves, he placed them into a plastic bag.

Se-gun leaned back on the bench, watching silently.

“Even though they’re dead… not a single tear. Maybe it’s not only vampires who can’t cry?”

“…”

Sylvester rose at Se-gun’s words. The pigeons, freed from magic, regained awareness—but lingered, still pecking at feed.

He opened the Corvette’s door. Fallen leaves scattered inside.

Se-gun stopped him.

“Oh, right… Sylvester.”

“?”

“Do I… look like Kurt Cobain?”

“You must have a headache. Judging by the nonsense.”

Se-gun burst into laughter, then buried his face in his knees. The laughter soon faded. His shoulders began to shake.

As though released from a spell, tears finally poured from eyes that had been dry for so long.

“…”