Chapter 47 :

<47>

Chrrr…

The sound of the curtain sliding along the rail seemed unusually loud as it scraped against the track. She flinched in surprise, but quickly calmed herself. This was her home. As long as no one came through the front door, no one could harm her—and no one would try. At least, not while she was here.

“There’s an extra ten-thousand-won bill in here.”

She pressed the envelope of money against her face and looked out the window. The young man was getting back on his motorcycle and leaving the apartment complex. For some reason, that blood-soaked young man looked far more terrifying to her than the boss of any organized crime syndicate. Of course, her fear of violent and vicious men was extreme. She had suffered at the hands of such people.

“Ah.”

She unconsciously touched the burn scar on her body and let out a faint sigh. Yes. Her fear of gangsters only went that far. But that young man was different. He felt like an incarnation of death itself. A sinister omen that heralded death was far more terrifying than any realistic fear.

She watched Se-gun disappear from view, quietly made the sign of the cross, and drew the curtains.

* * *

“To suffer such humiliation. Truly worthy of a True Vampire Hunter.”

Sahyuk ground his teeth and suppressed his anger. Even if he did not quite measure up to the True Vampire Hunter Sylvester, he was still a renowned vampire hunter in his own right. And yet he had treated him like this. The thought that this was what Kenneth Yang had meant by “go screw yourself” made his anger flare up again.

But he had no time to be angry. There was a mountain of things to do if he was going to establish himself in Korea. Since he did not use vampire brokers to dispose of blood, he had to produce Psychedelic Moon himself and secure distribution routes. Even a door-to-door salesman would struggle to sell electric rice cookers or magnetic mats—so trying to sell a new type of drug was on an entirely different level.

He put a cigarette in his mouth. One of his subordinates flicked a lighter and lit it for him. Smoke began to fill the interior of the Dynasty sedan.

“Boss. Shall we get rid of that guy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not thugs. How are we supposed to deal with a monster capable of taking down True Vampires? There are people you simply cannot afford to make your enemy.”

As he spoke, he recalled Sylvester’s appearance. Long silver hair. Pale skin without a single blemish, smooth as if even peach fuzz refused to grow on it… His muscles were well-developed, yet supple and elastic like a deer’s. In short, he looked less like a priest and more like a host.

“But if he’s a True Vampire Hunter, just what method does he use to hunt vampires? That’s something worth investigating.”

“Then what about that Se-gun who was with him?”

“Se-gun? Ah, that young fellow?”

He recalled the young man. His face certainly looked youthful, and he probably wasn’t very old. But what about his ability? His bone structure and musculature were solidly developed. He had used Psychedelic Moon only in appropriate amounts. The moment someone stepped into the entrance, he had already counted the number of people and shifted his gaze. His situational judgment was quick, his perception sharp, his dynamic vision excellent, and his field of vision quite wide.

When Sahyuk spoke to him at close range, the young man had merely rolled his eyes to glance sideways—suggesting strong peripheral vision and a broad visible range. The calluses even on the backs of his hands indicated harsh martial arts training. He must have endured unbelievably grueling discipline.

“I don’t know who trained him, but he was taught systematically and well. And he smells of blood. He’s killed plenty—someone worth liking. Even if he doesn’t have much skill right now, he’ll probably grow rapidly. His foundation is solid.”

Sahyuk grinned.

“He’s my type. It’d be nice if he joined our team. Hahaha.”

Still laughing, he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray built into the car.

* * *

Se-gun was assembling a computer in his room. Until now, he had lived almost like an ascetic, with nothing to his name. But information was precious. He had no interest in variety shows or entertainment programs, but he needed to be well-versed in news and rumors. For acquiring maps of Seoul and various documents, a computer was far more suitable than books.

“Ugh. It’s only been a year, but so much has changed.”

Se-gun marveled at the echo of a year and a half faithfully reflecting Moore’s Law. Still, no matter how much computers changed, the fundamental concept of the PC remained almost paradigmatic. So assembling it was simple—just tedious.

“Hmm.”

After formatting the hard drive, Se-gun looked around the room. He had now gone so far as to purchase small row houses in Yongin, Seoul, and nearby areas. He had been taught that staying too long in one place invited suspicion, but when he thought of Deok-yeon living in the same spot for years, it felt like little more than an excuse.

The furniture was so minimal it looked like it had been brought straight from a prison: a simple bookshelf, a bed, a wardrobe that also served as a blanket chest, and a desk. On the wooden floor was a table and a rattan sofa left behind by the previous owner—both of which he quite liked. His weapons were stored in a built-in closet in another room. The door was stainless steel with a sturdy lock; it would not open easily by ordinary means.

“Hmm. It’ll take a while for the line to be installed.”

He set down a booklet and looked at the computer. It was hailed as a marvel of civilization, the crown jewel of IT—but in Korea, computers were essentially for entertainment. At least, that was the perception ingrained in Se-gun, who had dropped out of high school. So this was, in truth, a luxury item. Even though the entire setup, monitor included, cost less than a million won, considering its purpose, it could be called a luxury.

“No.”

Muttering to himself, Se-gun placed a stand-up photo frame on the computer desk. It was, as expected, a stiff family photograph. Taken at a seaside destination they had barely reached after enduring sweltering heat and traffic jams during vacation season. The exhausted expressions of his family—this was the photo closest to his current age among those he possessed. In movies, people usually hang up warm, loving family moments—yet this expression?

“Heh heh heh.”

Se-gun laughed at the absurdity. It really was a quirk. But for someone who had stepped off the path of humanity, perhaps one bad taste was permissible.

With about an hour of clattering work by the technician, the internet line was installed. Se-gun shouted, “Bow before the IT infrastructure of the Republic of Korea!” and sat down at his computer, connecting to Web Finder.

Finder was essentially an alliance of vampire hunters—a closed information group that required an annual fee of two million won. But the information they provided was certainly worth the price.

Vampires must consume blood to replenish or increase their strength. If they drink the blood of another vampire, the effect is even greater. So what would vampires who needed blood do?

Malignant vampires attack the first living creature they see indiscriminately. These types usually have excessively low VT, meaning their vitality as vampires is weak. If their VT falls below 10, their life is in danger; if it drops below 3, death is certain.

What about vampires with sufficiently high VT to retain their reason? If they belong to an official clan, they would purchase human blood with money. However, members of clans led by the 24 True Vampires account for only 10% of all vampires. Therefore, the majority of vampires prey on the socially marginalized—the homeless, the legally incompetent, the elderly and infirm—making them ideal hunting targets.

Thus, to monitor whether vampire numbers have increased, it is crucial to obtain information from the homeless. If homeless disappearances begin to occur, it is reasonable to assume vampire activity in the area. In modern society, however, transportation is well developed, so some deliberately travel far from their usual territory to conceal their activity. That must be taken into consideration.

“Hmm. Is this what it means that the price of blood has fallen in the U.S.?”

Se-gun nodded as he checked the market price of Psychedelic Moon in the United States. Compared to Korea, it was only about half the price—truly very cheap. Of course, weapons were easier to obtain in America, and the land was vast, so even if you used firearms, the police wouldn’t immediately come running. It must be more convenient for hunters to operate there. But even so, there should be plenty of demand for Psychedelic Moon—vampire blood—in the U.S. A price gap this large made no sense.

‘No… When it comes to methamphetamine, heroin, cocaine—aren’t they 2 to 10 times more expensive in Korea than overseas?’

Korea’s narcotics control laws were quite strict. Those involved in the distribution or production of drugs faced heavy punishment. It might seem trivial in a society where celebrities get caught using drugs, avoid eating prison rations, come out bowing their heads and saying, “I beg the public for forgiveness”, only for no one to forgive them—yet they still declare, “Then I’ll work harder!” in a one-man show—but clearly, the Republic of Korea’s drug laws were severe.

The information on Web Finder reported that in major cities across the United States, the homeless population had drastically decreased, and many socially vulnerable individuals had died under suspicious circumstances or gone missing. Newspaper articles had introduced these incidents only fragmentarily, so they hadn’t drawn much attention—but when compiled, the pattern was unmistakable.

“So a whole bunch of socially vulnerable people died. The Republicans must be thrilled.”

Se-gun muttered as he examined the case in Korea. For Korea, the data cited materials from religious organizations that provided food to the homeless. However, nothing particularly interesting stood out in the numbers.

“Hmm.”

Se-gun rotated a knife in his hand as he considered it. Clearly, an excessive number of vampires relative to the population had entered Korea—yet casualties were low. Were the vampires who came to Korea simply preoccupied with devouring one another? Since the True Vampires Jeok-yo and Chang-un had died in Korea, most of those who gathered here were likely drawn by the desire to lick up their blood—or to kill the vampires who had followed them.

“This is troublesome. Should I raid the Sang-dong faction again? Or go stirring up vampires? Or perhaps… meet this Sahyuk person?”

Thinking this, Se-gun swung the knife through the air.

The sharp sound of it slicing the wind echoed fiercely through the room.

* * *

In winter, the places where the homeless gathered were mostly subway stations. The subway offered shelter from the wind, and the lingering warmth from people made it one of the warmest places around. When the last train ended service, they would slowly move inside the station, lay down cardboard boxes, and sleep curled up like shrimp.

“Damn it. This is what happens when I say I graduated from law school.”

Mr. Gu, now in his third year of homelessness, poured soju into paper cups and handed them to his friends. Whenever he said he had graduated from law school and even pursued a master’s degree—an elite, by all accounts—the reaction was always the same.

“Quit your bullshit. Then what are you doing now, huh? You should’ve snagged a judge’s seat by now!”

Mr. Jang sipped the soju in his cup as if it were some heavenly liquor—like soma itself—grinning like a child.

“Ah, damn it. I took the bar exam eight times and couldn’t even pass the first stage. That’s how I ended up like this.”

Mr. Gu sighed.

A fall.

Yes, there was no better word for it. Of course, it wasn’t as if he had lived a glorious life before his fall. Like most graduates of regional law schools, he had desperately tried to pass the bar exam, only to tumble down and fail to even become an ordinary office worker, wasting away instead. He sometimes regretted not preparing for employment back then instead of obsessing over the exam—but, in truth, he didn’t have much complaints about being homeless now.

Being able to sleep when you wanted and eat when you wanted—wasn’t that something? No worries about promotions or family, no fear of losing anything anymore. Thinking that there could be no worse situation than this strangely brought him peace of mind.

Of course, many homeless people didn’t find such peace. Those were usually people burdened by debt, forced into homelessness. Even in such dire circumstances, they tried to do whatever they could to repay what remained. But in winter, such efforts often led to catching a cold and dying.

Even for those without debt, winter was the hardest trial for all homeless people. Many die because it is cold; very few die because it is hot. Countless homeless died in winter. Especially at night—if charitable groups didn’t occasionally distribute warm cup ramen, rice soup, coffee, or tea, many would have frozen to death.

“Still, you managed to get your hands on some soju somehow?”

Mr. Cheon smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together.

“Should we climb Inwangsan and catch a snake? If we brew it, it’d taste amazing.”

“Yeah right, like you’d wait for it to ferment. And the snake would catch you before you caught it. Ha! What bullshit! Fuck! Go suck the mountain spirit of Inwangsan’s dick!”

They shamelessly spat out words that, if the mountain spirit of Inwangsan had ears, might have sued them for sexual harassment. Hearing this, Mr. Gu burst into hearty laughter.

“Gahahaha. What use is sucking a man’s dick anyway?”

“A man’s dick? Then what, your wife had one too?”

“Hey now, seems you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“What are you talking about? Bring it by the bottle—I can handle it all. Anyway, where’d you get this?”

“Ah, some high school brats were drinking in the park but went inside because it was cold. I asked them to spare some leftover soju.”

“Hehehe. Well done. We might actually sleep well tonight.”

Fellow homeless men Mr. Jang and Mr. Cheon grinned happily as they downed the soju without even a side dish. Just then, they saw people coming down the stairs.

“Huh? What’s that?”

“What do you mean what? Probably another charity group. Oh, thank you kindly.”