Chapter 45 :

<45>

"That’ll be 1,400 won."

"Ah, here."

As soon as he finished paying, he tore open the milk carton and, without even taking a breath, chugged it down in one go. Plenty of people could down 1L of milk in a single gulp, but after sweating that much and drinking it immediately, it was enough to make someone worry he’d get sick. Still, he emptied the carton in one shot and tossed it neatly into the trash can.

"Hm?"

Just then, his gaze fixed briefly on the magazine rack. A recent grotesque murder case was splashed across the cover. Because of the incident in which an active-duty detective had killed his ex-wife and daughter, the weekly magazines were busily churning out speculation and conjecture.

"Damn it. They’re talking however they please."

He muttered and walked outside.

In the end, there was nothing to say about that case except that death had been a kind of release. It was impossible for a police officer who had killed his family to return to everyday life. No—even if he hadn’t been the one who did it, he would end up taking the blame. After all, his ex-wife was dead.

"Bastards!"

But Se-gun knew full well that he wasn’t in a position to simply blame the vampires. He wasn’t an apostle of justice. At the end of the day, he was just a hunter who hunted vampires for money. If he tried to claim any position beyond that, he would only continue to warp.

Like American superhero comics, establishing justice through violence was nothing more than fantasy. In reality, once you used violence, you would keep creating victims—like this time—and eventually you would have to cut them down with your own hands.

Once a human stepped into the world of the mad moon, they could never return to their original world. That was probably why even the reckless True Vampire Hunter, Father Sylvester, had hesitated to drag Se-gun into this underworld.

* * *

The arms dealer Kenneth Yang was about to enter his warehouse as usual. That was, assuming there were no signs of intrusion in front of it…

"Huh? Do we have a guest?"

Seeing marks in the keyhole—powder he had sprinkled disturbed by a lockpick—he drew a handgun from his coat. Of course, he knew that a handgun wouldn’t solve much if someone had broken into his warehouse. But among his acquaintances were plenty of people who liked pulling pranks like this.

"But… those guys know I use powder, don’t they?"

Muttering to himself, he carefully opened the door.

"Yo. Just getting here, friend?"

“….”

Inside stood a man. And at his sides, men who followed him aimed their gun barrels.

"Hey, hey. What’s with having so many nice goods stacked up like this?"

"W-wait. Sahyuk. When did you come back to Korea…?"

"Because you sold weapons to vampires, quite a few of my men died. Not just that—we lost all their gear too. Weapons, bulletproof vests, the lot. The losses are so big, I think I’ll have to be compensated somehow."

The man called Sahyuk said this and pulled out a knife.

"And I really don’t like your business policy. I know better than anyone that I’m not in a position to criticize you for selling weapons to vampires. But, my friend, I’d hate for our deep friendship to break so easily here. Still, business and personal matters must be kept separate."

He spun the knife in his grip as he spoke.

"W-wait. I think there’s some misunderstanding…"

"Ah, yes. Human history is filled with misunderstandings and hostility. What difference would it make if I added just one more? Since I’d like to remain mistaken, would you kindly shut your mouth?"

In that instant, the knife sliced through the air. Kenneth Yang felt a sharp sting at his neck.

"Sahyuk…"

Of course, cutting someone’s throat in a single stroke wasn’t in line with Sahyuk’s usual temperament. Still, the fact that the ones the vampires had mowed down with those weapons happened to be Sahyuk’s subordinates… Kenneth Yang had made a mistake he’d never anticipated.

"Under normal circumstances, I’d have to kill you… but the market price in the U.S. has crashed a bit, so I’m thinking of settling down in Korea. Living abroad is a bit tough, you see. And here in Korea, you’re the only arms dealer I can trust. Ah, our friendship will grow even stronger. Yes. Of course it will."

“….”

"So from now on, make sure there are no more deals with vampires, my friend. Understood?"

"I-I will."

Kenneth Yang answered reluctantly. At that, Sahyuk burst into loud laughter.

"Ah, that’s my good friend. All right, let him go!"

"But—"

"Let him go. From now on, our friendship will only grow thicker."

He laughed heartily as he said that. But Kenneth Yang trembled like a frightened rabbit at the sight of him. Even when he went to trade with vampires as an arms dealer, he had never shown fear. For him to tremble like this meant he truly feared this man called Sahyuk.

Kenneth Yang touched his neck to make sure it was still attached and let out a sigh.

"But you said the market price dropped?"

"Ah, something happened."

He smiled faintly.

* * *

When he wasn’t fighting vampires, Han Se-gun’s daily routine was filled with grueling training—no different from that of a fighter preparing for a match. Even now, he was jumping rope with earphones plugged in.

Working out like this in the park made him look like a lunatic, but he hated going into places like gyms or health clubs. Exercising for inhuman purposes made him recoil at the thought of mixing with ordinary people.

With such ugly thoughts in his heart, burning with dark crimson killing intent, hiding among people was something his conscience would not forgive.

"He’s working hard."

Deok-yeon muttered this from inside the Tiburon sedan parked across the park, where he was keeping watch on Se-gun. The Pride he had driven diligently before had been scrapped after a fight that could only be called urban warfare, since there was a risk of being discovered by the police. The Tiburon had replaced it. Considering his age, it might have been better to drive a more sedate mid-sized car, but mid-sized cars were usually ill-suited for a vampire hunter’s line of work.

"Anyway, that kid’s suddenly become a big shot."

To think he had boldly challenged the vampires head-on—his courage was truly remarkable. Even Deok-yeon, who could be said to have raised him, hadn’t been able to lay a hand on the Sang-dong faction, yet that bastard had jumped straight into them… As they say, the student surpasses the master. The old sayings really aren’t wrong.

"What a fearless brat. That’s why I said I didn’t want to take in someone whose eyes were already dead… cough."

Deok-yeon covered his mouth to stifle the cough that burst out. Even if Se-gun’s eyes were dead, it was better than his own body being dead. Better than himself, who would soon have to retire from this world because of his continued drug use. Still, the fact that such a young man had grown to rival him, already soaked in this underworld, meant danger. Rapid growth brought rapid destruction.

Knock, knock.

Someone tapped on the window. The Se-gun he had been watching had approached the car without him noticing and knocked.

"What are you doing right now?"

"Ah, n-nothing… Why’d you stop exercising?"

"If some weird middle-aged guy keeps staring, do you think I’ll feel like working out?"

Se-gun sighed as he said that. No matter how young his body was, fighting the Sang-dong faction and vampires back to back had taken its toll. For now, he could move without issue, but fatigue and internal injuries might be piling up. That was why he was holding back from launching another attack on the Sang-dong faction.

"Oh, right. I think I can finish off the Sang-dong faction soon. Want to join me?"

"Give it a rest. I’m not in the bloom of youth like you. And the Sang-dong faction pays tribute to the Jeoksu faction."

Song Deok-yeon said this as he put a cigarette in his mouth. Se-gun looked at him and let out a snort.

"The Jeoksu faction? What a weird name."

"In a world where there are groups called the Apple Box faction, the Gyeongsang Agricultural Association faction, and the Chocolate Mousse faction, don’t nitpick over organization names."

When Deok-yeon said that with a completely straight face, Se-gun was taken aback. He could let the Gyeongsang Agricultural Association faction slide, but what the hell were the Apple Box faction and the Chocolate Mousse faction?

“Anyway, if the Jeoksu faction has any sense, they won’t try to touch me just because one of their underlings paying tribute got smashed—even if I run solo.”

Gangsters could talk about loyalty and friendship all they wanted, but in the end, thugs were driven by profit. Anyone sharp about their own interests wouldn’t make the mistake of attacking Se-gun—someone capable enough to dismantle an entire organization—simply out of loyalty.

“If that’s the case, I won’t stop you… but only touch the Sang-dong faction. If you touch the Jeoksu faction, that’s war.”

“Hm.”

Se-gun nodded for now. But if the Sang-dong faction had vampire connections, how could their parent organization, the Jeoksu faction, not have them as well? Vampires were inevitably involved in illegal activities, and who better to handle such things than organized crime? They could connect to weapons brokers, smugglers, human trafficking rings, and provide lodging or safe houses. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call them an agency tailor-made for vampires.

“….”

Se-gun fell into thought. In the end, even the South Korean police couldn’t do anything about vampires. Detective Sim Gu-jin—if Se-gun hadn’t thrown himself into the fray like that—might have gone mad, but perhaps it wouldn’t have ended in such a horrific conclusion.

No matter how much he told himself he bore no responsibility, that he wasn’t an apostle of justice and had no need to feel accountable, he didn’t truly believe it. That was why he couldn’t endure it. He had planned to quietly train until his drug- and battle-worn body recovered, but a violent surge of killing intent suddenly flared up inside him, impossible to suppress.

Throb…

The urge to kill vampires reared its head. Kill them, kill them, and kill them again—wipe them off the face of the earth entirely. Yes, a holocaust would be fine. Load them all like pigs onto trains and shove them into gas chambers.

Or herd them onto a remote island in the South Pacific and obliterate them with nuclear missiles. Or build a massive grinder and pulp them all. Or, like Duke Vlad—the inspiration behind the Dracula legend—impale them on stakes, shove wicks into their skulls, and set them ablaze.

Kill and kill and kill and kill!

Each time the savage killing intent writhed within him, the stabbing pain in his chest grew worse.

“Khk.”

* * *

Click.

In a warehouse lined with gunpowder and ammunition, the sound of a lighter flicking rang out, followed by the flare of a cigarette. Sahyuk—a man who looked like a mix of East and West—took a long, satisfied drag as he looked down at Kenneth Yang, who lay bloodied at his feet.

“The taste of Lucky Strike is truly special. Don’t you think so, my friend? A taste of tradition.”

“Ugh… I prefer Mild Seven.”

“Oh dear. Didn’t expect a difference of opinion here. Well, fine. That aside, one of my friends got pretty banged up, so I’m looking to replenish my ranks. Know any good hunters?”

He blew smoke into Kenneth’s face as he spoke. Kenneth coughed and asked back,

“For example?”

“Ah, right. Someone like the True Vampire Hunter, Father Sylvester. I hear you’ve had contact with him? Why don’t you introduce me? Tell him to join my team.”

“You’re insane!”

No matter how much of a big shot Sahyuk was, comparing him to the True Vampire Hunter, Father Sylvester, was like comparing the sun to starlight. That was the difference in caliber. Wasn’t he the monster who had slaughtered fully armed vampires—armed with weapons Kenneth himself had sold them—with nothing but a single blade, and in under a minute?

“Oh dear. Calling me insane. I’m quite mindful of public morality, you know. Very mindful…”

As he said that, Sahyuk pressed the lit cigarette into Kenneth’s side.

Ssssss—

“Urgh!”

“See? I’m even preventing forest fires like this. Right?”

“Gah!”

“Endure it. These days, even middle school girls give cigarette burns without batting an eye.”

Maybe if he’d volunteered for it, he could have endured it. But after being beaten like a dog, his resistance to pain weakened—burning raw flesh like this left no chance of staying intact.

“Just give me the contact info. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Ghh…”

“Or maybe it’d be faster to go through your notebook or your phone?”

Sahyuk grinned cruelly as he said that. Kenneth Yang immediately opened his mouth.

“Fine! Fine, I said! Stop!”

“Oh? A sudden change of heart? No backbone, I see.”

After beating and torturing him while threatening his life, he had the nerve to criticize him for changing his mind. Kenneth found it absurd, but Sahyuk was like a mad dog—reason didn’t apply.

“Damn it. I used to pride myself on being pretty crazy too. But I guess I’m human after all—not a dog.”

“What are you muttering?”

“Nothing. Screw you.”

Kenneth Yang said that and forced himself to stand up.