Chapter 29 :

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Sylvester lowered his eyes even as he thought that. He had felt it during his encounter with the True Vampire Phantom as well, but against a vampire who had built up social influence, he absolutely could not pick a fight. Unless the other side wanted a fight, there was no way around it.

Then there was no choice but to hunt the Executioner. Only a powerful vampire occupying a fairly important position within the clan was designated as an Executioner. If they eliminated the Executioner, they could make the True Vampire uncomfortable and force it to move.

Just then, he heard someone coming up the stairs. Soon, the voice of a middle-aged man echoed from the hallway.

“Um, is anyone there?”

“Mm.”

The visitor was Song Deok-yeon. He, too, instinctively felt that what was happening now was no ordinary matter for either vampires or hunters. But that wasn’t the only reason.

“Ha. We have a lot of guests today.”

Sylvester said that as he opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Se-gun followed behind him and closed the door.

* * *

The atmosphere of the city was as chaotic as a raccoon’s den that had been stirred up. Grotesque murders were breaking out everywhere, and as a result, the riot police were on standby day and night. There were even opinions that military units should be deployed, but the National Assembly was closed due to infighting between the ruling and opposition parties, and the president was on an overseas trip. The media and public opinion were heating up, yet the decision-maker who needed to handle the situation wasn’t even in the country. Still, it was fortunate that the police were at least moving.

“You’re all working hard.”

But he couldn’t agree with the method of inspecting vehicles at tollgates. ‘That thing’ was no longer human. What did they expect to accomplish by checking people? Considering that vampires could assume human form, it might be a very wise decision—but because of that, vampire hunters carrying weapons couldn’t move freely.

Puuuk!

The young man blowing bubble gum frowned as he looked toward the tollgate. He, too, driving a large refrigerated truck, was subject to inspection.

“We’ll be conducting a brief inspection.”

“Well… keep up the good work.”

For a truck driver, his hair was quite long, covering his right eye, but the man paid no mind, chewing his gum and occasionally blowing a bubble whenever he felt like it. He wore five cylindrical rings in his ear, with no decorations on them, making his entire ear appear as if it were made of metal. His face itself was quite sharp, but his tone was extremely cold. However, the police paid little attention to the driver and instead opened the back of the truck. As expected, there were only cargo boxes inside.

“You may pass.”

“Yes, yes.”

He restarted the engine and drove forward. But as soon as he entered Seoul, he took off his hat and steered the truck toward a parking lot.

A large sign was posted at the entrance of the parking structure: No Trucks or Special Vehicles. The height was restricted, so large vehicles couldn’t enter. The refrigerated truck stopped in front of the exit. The man who had been driving opened the door, stepped down, and muttered,

“Hm. So it was true they don’t inspect refrigerated trucks inside. My heart almost dropped, you know?”

“Quiet. The goods arrived properly, right?”

As someone answered him, people walked out from inside the parking structure. The driver chuckled and blew another bubble.

“Hahaha. We passed inspection, so of course it arrived properly. If you pay the remaining balance first, I’ll let you check the goods as much as you like.”

They stiffened slightly but soon brought out a large sports bag.

“Check it.”

“Hm. Mind if I weigh it?”

He glanced around at them, then opened the sports bag. Inside was a garbage bag, and within it, he caught a glimpse of 10,000-won bills. He took out an electronic scale from atop the fuel tank beside the refrigerated truck and actually weighed the cash.

“Seems about right. Good. Open the cargo and take the goods.”

“Good.”

They opened the truck’s cargo area and hurriedly removed the loads inside. On the outside were fish packed in ice, but they tossed the fish into a trash bin and examined the interior of the ice.

Clatter!

Inside the ice spilled out various firearms: MP5s, M16A1s, M4A1 carbines, AUG-STEYR rifles, and more. There were enough weapons to fully arm nearly two squads—not only with primary and secondary weapons but even with bulletproof vests.

“Hm. Excellent. To be able to procure this level of weaponry in Korea…”

The customer seemed extremely satisfied. Well, of course—having obtained standard-issue military firearms, there was no reason not to be pleased.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill too many people with those. After all, they’re guns.”

The man spoke jokingly as he put the money back into the bag and loaded it onto the truck.

Click!

At that moment, the sound of someone cocking a weapon came from behind. The truck driver froze.

“It would be best not to do anything unnecessary. A gun is useless without bullets. It’s useful now because you have bullets, but think long-term. If you earn the resentment of a competent arms dealer, everything you’re holding will turn into scrap metal. I wonder whether your kind even has the brains to consider that?”

“……”

A heavy silence fell. For a while, only the sound of water dripping from the ceiling pipes of the parking structure and the distant noise of cars could be heard. The ones who had aimed their guns lowered them. Then someone among them, who appeared relatively reasonable, stepped forward and apologized.

“It was just a little joke. But indeed… a ‘competent arms dealer’ is different. To remain calm even with guns being cocked behind you.”

“Isn’t there a bigger issue than that? I’d say it’s stranger that humans are trading with vampires in the first place.”

He said coldly as he turned around. And indeed, standing there were humans with glowing blue eyes—or rather, vampires.

“Anyway, pointing a gun at an arms dealer’s back is extremely unpleasant. So from next time, I’ll be charging ten percent more.”

“Next time?”

He spoke so calmly that even the vampires laughed in disbelief. Whether it was courage or foolishness, it was hard to tell.

“Then we’ll remember that.”

The vampires said that and moved. Once they disappeared from sight, the arms dealer finally turned his body fully around and let out a sigh of relief.

“Hoo. These bastards… they have absolutely no manners! I heard the children of Hecate were unspeakably vile. Seems the rumors weren’t wrong.”

He climbed back into the truck and started the engine. Though his first transaction with vampires had been somewhat unsettling, he had received proper payment and could consider the job successfully completed.

After all, a fight between vampire clans would require far more firearms than clashes between crime organizations that were mutually restraining their weapon use.

“Heh-heh.”

Far from feeling guilty about supplying weapons to vampires, the arms dealer hummed as he pressed the accelerator. The massive refrigerated truck exited the parking lot.

* * *

“What did you say?”

Se-gun was dumbfounded after hearing Song Deok-yeon’s words.

“That guy’s name is Jeong Jun… He was in the Special Forces with me. When I was in the military, he held the rank of captain. After his family died in a fire, he snapped and entered this line of work.”

Song Deok-yeon explained as he looked at the TV. On the television set in the second-floor living room of Arjuna, a special discussion program was being broadcast. Experts from various fields had been invited to discuss the ongoing tragedy, and of course, the topic was the Corrupted.

“This is… footage recorded by a citizen who happened to witness the tragedy. The quality is poor because it was filmed with a camcorder. We ask for your understanding.”

The screen showed Hangang Riverside Park. Perhaps it had been filmed from an apartment terrace leaning outward, because the distance was great and the footage blurry. Trying to film from such a distance at night meant it couldn’t possibly be clear. Yet despite the poor quality, the camera unmistakably captured the form of something that was not human—a monster.

“This is… an unaltered tape. Completely untouched.”

“……”

The moment they saw it, everyone fell silent. Se-gun lifted the iced latte on the table to his lips.

“So it’s even being broadcast… It seems vampires still haven’t firmly established their foundation in this country.”

“Pardon?”

“If a vampire clan had control over the underbelly of society, something like that would never make it onto television. Well, that’s probably why a Corrupted like that is running wild in the first place.”

Sylvester spoke as if unimpressed and rose from his seat.

“It seems we’ve reached a point where we can’t just leave it alone. Shall we go?”

“Yes.”

Se-gun willingly stood up. But Song Deok-yeon still shook his head, as if something didn’t sit right with him.

“Ah… damn it! Let’s go! If we’re going to kill that bastard, I’ll kill him with my own hands.”

He pushed himself up with the sole of his combat boots and placed his worn-out beret on his head.

* * *

Vampires who sleep during the day do not dream. They can only dream when they sleep at night. It was a vampire custom that meant little to vampire hunters, but those who had lived too long would sometimes seek sleep just to dream.

But Jeong Jun had not even been a vampire for long, and yet he was dreaming. A Corrupted—one that drank blood but did not absorb it to turn into its own VT. It was a life like that of a mayfly, never knowing when death would come.

When the government housing building collapsed in a gas explosion, inside were his four-year-old child and his wife. No matter how much he cursed the construction company, wondering how a concrete building that might not even be properly blown apart with composition explosives could collapse just from an LPG tank exploding, it was already too late. She had always waited for him, even when he could barely make it home.

His son, born premature and always frail, who had worried them constantly—who had even made that tough Special Forces officer weep—had vanished into the scorching heat as well.

Yet today, for the first time in a long while, he dreamed of his wife. He remembered kneeling in front of her house during their dating days, wearing his ROTC dress uniform, sitting upright to gain his father-in-law’s approval while drawing the stares of neighbors. Though President Park Chung-hee was dead, it was still the era of the Fifth Republic when the prestige of soldiers stood tall. The sight of an ROTC reserve officer occupying the alley had been imposing enough to astonish his father-in-law.

But his wife had been smiling. He had practically dragged her away—boasting shamelessly that he would make her happy, saying whatever came to mind without the slightest embarrassment—yet in truth, he had hardly been by her side. As for their child, who never even got to see much of the world, he had done nothing but take him back and forth to the hospital.

And yet in the dream, she was smiling. Holding their tiny child’s hand, coaxing him, “Daddy’s going to work, so you should say goodbye”, and the child would respond clumsily with a salute, “Daddy, come back safely!”

“Kraaah!”

If only tears had flowed when he awoke from the dream—but nothing flowed from his eyes.

“Grrrrr!”

‘That thing’ could not speak human words; it was nothing more than a monster that craved human flesh.

* * *

In the small room of a gosiwon wrapped in thick darkness—this was Se-gun’s prison. Open the door, and by the window sat a family photograph, the only trace of humanity in the room, showing a family with stern expressions gathered together. Other than that, it looked exactly like a typical gosiwon room—so barren that there was not a single trace of warmth to be found.

A narrow room that would be completely filled if one lay down. What filled the closet was nothing but weapons meant for slaughter.

Click.

In the silent room, even the sound of the closet opening echoed like thunder. Se-gun paused for a moment like a startled cat at that booming noise, but when he touched the weapons inside, his movements were swift and without hesitation. As for firearms, there were only two Tokarevs; the rest could all be called blades.

In the case of blades, even if they were not made of silver, they could cause heavy bleeding and were useful against vampires. The drawback, however, was that to face such monsters with a sword, one had to sacrifice just as much on one’s own side. And the swords currently in Se-gun’s room were, after all, training blades—there was no guarantee they would remain intact if used to cut through real bone and flesh.

“Well, it’s better than bare hands.”

Se-gun muttered lowly and gathered the blades. Just then, a car horn blared from below. Unable to wait any longer, Song Deok-yeon was leaning on the horn downstairs.

“Can’t you hurry the hell up, you rotten bastard? How heavy is your ass that you move so slow even just grabbing your gear?”

Shouting like that in an alley was hardly the behavior of a cultured citizen. In fact, many people from other rooms in the gosiwon stuck their heads out the windows at the noise. The manager already disliked Se-gun, so being kicked out would probably only be a matter of time. He couldn’t cling to living in a gosiwon forever anyway—he’d have to move eventually. Even as he thought that, Se-gun frowned.

Thinking of the people waiting for him, Se-gun simply jumped out the window. Jumping from the height of the second floor wasn’t particularly good for one’s knees, but Se-gun landed quietly on the ground like a cat.

“Oh!”

The gosiwon residents watching from their windows exclaimed in admiration. Ignoring their cheers, Se-gun walked toward Song Deok-yeon’s Pride sedan waiting in the alley.

“Seriously… it didn’t even take that long. You can’t wait even a minute without throwing a tantrum?”

Se-gun looked at the small Pride sedan with dissatisfaction. No matter how confident he was on a motorcycle, he didn’t have the nerve to take out the XR-250 he had just bought after laying his RX-125 to rest. The registration ink hadn’t even dried yet—he couldn’t very well scrap it already.