Chapter 176

Blood Magic is a discipline.

But at the same time, it is a religion.

Blood Magic was nothing more than the power and wisdom gained as a byproduct of serving the blood god Velmareth. If one traced it back to its origin, Blood Magic was stronger in religious character than in scholarly.

And these vampires had, for a very long time, been unable to serve a true god.

"And thus spoke the One,"

"And thus spoke the Teacher."

And at a certain moment, the one who reigned as emperor of the vampires issued a decree.

"The God has returned."

Within that cursed trajectory in which even their absolute Teacher had failed to reach the summit and had fallen to Lidmar, the disciples suffered an inner emptiness—the sense that they pursued "a phantom forever beyond reach."

And in the midst of that, the Teacher informed them. That the God had returned.

"A god? Velmareth?"

"It's impossible."

"No—ha—truly?"

The news spread wildly among the vampires.

"It wasn't just a legend?"

"I believed it—that Blood Magic was, from the very start, a discipline meant to inherit the divine power of blood!"

The instant they heard the word relayed from the Teacher, they were consumed by the ecstasy of a lifelong void being filled. Even the countless sins they had committed probing forbidden arts in the shadows now felt like trials endured to welcome the God.

"The Teacher said only those who are worthy should come, didn't he?"

"Not just anyone can go. That honor belongs solely to the senior disciples."

"Ah, if only I could be among those who go…!"

"They say those summoned this time are only a handful, even among them."

Only a few of the Teacher's most cherished disciples were granted the chance to adorn the God's altar with their own hands.

"Knowledge—could we not obtain knowledge?"

"Could we not catch the scent of even a single drop of Velmareth's blood?"

"I could swear loyalty, and more than that is fitting."

Those called vampires, who had surpassed mere blood mages, were—before they were devotees—radical intellectuals who had carved away their own flesh and blood to probe the magical path. To them, the manifestation of the God was a blessing beyond words.

"Velmareth is surely a being reborn from a human…."

"Of course—only one who carries the blood of a living creature has the right to be reborn as Velmareth."

"Then was it truly possible to overcome the dreadful side effects of that ritual and retain one's reason? Was such a thing genuinely possible?"

"Truly, the living source of blood itself."

They were nearly mad with the urge to dissect and analyze the God this very instant, yet of course they could not dare lay a hand upon the divine body. The only thing realistically possible was—

"An attendant disciple—yes. I must sit the disciple's examination."

"If I rise to senior disciple, then I too will have a chance!"

—to loiter about the One and catch even the crumbs that fell. The vampires were swept up in a ferocious scholarly greed, longing to touch the truth even by such means.

The vampires who had slumbered in Romania were especially so.

"We alone are the true priests who serve the God."

"If only we could shun the sunlight and rest in His shade, we would offer up anything."

"The time has come to cast off the humiliation those vulgar creatures of the Foundation heaped upon us."

A sanctuary for vampires. An absolute holy ground.

"For the paradise of blood."

The world of Blood Magic was built upon a thoroughly vertical hierarchy; their flesh and magic were designed to submit instinctively to blood of a higher order.

"Let us serve our young God."

"The glory of serving a youthful Parent!"

From the moment they realized there existed a "Parent" before whom even the Teacher had bowed his own head, the blood vessels throughout their bodies swelled as if to burst, before reason could even render judgment. They wanted to kneel; they felt pleasure in overwhelming submission.

It was not the agony of being oppressed. It was rapture directed at "a predator who would dominate me utterly."

"I shall send word to the Teacher."

Among the vampires, the most beloved senior disciples were gathering in one place.

* * *

"Ah, fuck."

"That's a banned word in our department… no, never mind. What is it this time?"

A staffer at the headquarters of the Republic of Korea's Sensitivity Bureau, eyes on his monitor, answered.

"Looks like the Count's senior disciples who were inside the country are gathering."

"This is maddening. Has Europe said anything?"

"They're probably too busy busting their asses to find time to send an official notice."

"Fair enough. That place is the vampires' homeland."

"The vampires have been acting suspicious lately."

"Yeah, let's cut them some slack. We Koreans have our soft side."

Another staffer nodded.

"Looks like we'll have to be the ones to fire off the notice."

"The second you said that, America's came in first."

"Maybe it's because their territory's so big—they're surprisingly fast."

"China's came too."

"China, huh. What's gotten into them?"

"Ah, Japan's came in too."

"Oh, hold on."

The two staffers met each other's eyes.

"Japan?"

"Yeah, yeah. Japan."

"We're fucked, right?"

"Yeah, we're fucked."

Slurp.

"…."

"…."

Slurp, slurrrp….

Clack, clack-clack….

The sound of keyboards clattering layered over the sound of espresso being sipped.

* * *

"This is honestly absurd."

The Director vented her exasperation.

"A Dokkaebi is—"

"A Recognition Species."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Tarot. Anyway, a Recognition Species is the kind of disaster where even one appearing lays waste to an entire region. And yet 'Count Dracula,' who ought to be off frolicking in Europe, is here, and the 'White Crow' is here, and even Mr. Lu-[redacted] is watching this place? Ugh, I might as well just go drop dead."

At the Director's words, Kwon Do-heon asked.

"What's a Mr. Lu-[redacted]?"

"I was wondering that too."

Hong Gyeong-yeon nodded.

"I think all of you ought to be a bit more considerate of the civilians who are listening."

"Well now? Whose kid talks this sharp?"

"I meant please consider the people who have zero concept of this world—the Gaps or whatever it's called. I may not look it, but I can write a script in my own way, and young Kwon Do-heon here can even handle a gun."

The moment after, Hong Gyeong-yeon was struck by his own words.

"When I get out, I'll have to turn myself in."

"Out of nowhere?"

"I made a kid fire a gun. I'm trash."

"There's trash to spare around here, so it's fine, Mr. Writer~"

Kwon Seung-jae, grinning easily, explained "Mr. Lu-[redacted]."

"You know the most famous fallen angel on Earth."

"Ah, that—what's it called…."

As Kwon Do-heon went to say the name, the Director stopped him.

"Whoa, whoa—don't say his real name."

"Huh, I can't?"

"Nope, no, no—your head'll burst."

"My head bursts if I say the name?"

"Because it's not a name a person can bear."

Following the Director, Cha Do-hyeon elaborated.

"It's partly just spite, too."

"What kind of spite bursts a person's head?"

"You don't go around saying a Dokkaebi's name~ Especially with a classical labyrinth, it can tell who called its name from the other side of the planet. The Sensitivity Bureau doesn't slap on nicknames like 'Count Dracula' and 'White Crow' for nothing."

"Then why don't they call this Mr. Lu-[redacted] like that? Does he not have a nickname?"

"A while back in Europe they tried calling him '■■■ ■' and '■■,' but—"

Trickle.

Blood ran from Cha Do-hyeon's eyes and nose.

"Aw, hell."

"Aaagh, fuck!!!"

"As you can see, Mr. Lu-[redacted] doesn't much like having names pinned on him."

"Then what, is 'Lu-[redacted]' not a pronoun or something?!"

"It's because he's been letting things slide lately."

Cha Do-hyeon added, wiping the running blood with his hand. Beside him, Kwon Seung-jae nodded.

"Ah, he's famous. At first they figured he disliked names tied to legend, but apparently no matter what name they coined, everyone's heads just kept bursting?"

"My point exactly."

Wiping his blood-soaked palm against his clothes, Cha Do-hyeon grumbled.

"For a fellow who sings and dances, he's damn finicky—filthily finicky."

"Is—is 'finicky' really the word for…? No, wait, why singing and dancing…?"

"It's like he refuses to have his identity unified into one thing? Apart from the pale coloring and being eerily beautiful, his sex and apparent age shift a bit depending on who's looking."

"No, what is this—I didn't understand a single bit of that."

"Knowing too soon does you no good~"

"Is there nobody sane in the Gaps??"

Kwon Do-heon was appalled at the sight of Cha Do-hyeon roughly wiping the blood from his face with a towel. Hong Gyeong-yeon, who had taken off his glasses, silently dragged a hand down his face and muttered.

"Send me home, please."

"Can't you just go?"

The Director looked down at the near-civilian bunch as though regarding something bizarre.

"Now, I don't rightly know exactly how you all got in here, but from what I hear you said you were handed some kind of mission."

"That's right."

"And that's how you've gathered all four now, isn't it. A bit ago I tagged along with those two gunslingers and kept that 'White Crow' rascal in check. There's no further condition you need, is there."

"That's true."

"???"

The Director's expression turned bewildered.

"Then why are you still here??"

The labyrinth had squeezed out a sliver of mercy and made them an opening to leave, and instead of bolting out at once—

"What's it called—is that it? The type with a lot of complaints about life? Even rolling in a field of dog dung, this world beats the next, you know?"

"No, it's not that…."

Cha Do-hyeon cut in, coughing from the blood that kept welling up.

"Honestly—ugh—I'm starting to want out too, but the situation's a bit delicate."

"Yeah, yeah—Actor Cha, you, kid, just get out already. You'll be carried out on a stretcher before long."

"Those folks can leave, sure."

The ones he pointed to were Kwon Do-heon, Kwon Seung-jae, and Hyeon Si-gyeong.

"We can't."

The "we" he meant here was Hong Gyeong-yeon, Lee Seon-hae, and Cha Do-hyeon himself.

"We came in on an invitation—there's no way we can leave before the banquet."

"I don't know exactly what this banquet is, but shouldn't the cleared civilians be sent out first?"

"That was the aim, yes."

Cha Do-hyeon nodded.

"Our side received an invitation acknowledged by the labyrinth's master himself, so we're treated as fairly safe; getting that 'illegal resident' team out first should be the priority. I don't know how the General Manager will play it, but… we did as we were told, so a creature that calls itself a Dokkaebi won't go back on its word."

Tossing aside the blood-dampened towel, he went on.

"Whether completing the quest will get them treated as proper guests, as safe as our film team, is something we won't know until it happens. But if they can leave, I'd say it's better to leave first—I think so too."

"Now, Master Nakdo's own affairs are no concern of mine, but your nephew there—he's still got baby fat on him, a long way from grown, isn't he."

As Kwon Do-heon chewed over the Director's words, muttering "Baby fat, chubby…," Kwon Seung-jae spoke.

"Mm, I'd like to, but…."

"You're not bewitched, are you?"

"When I lay it all out, the situation's a touch peculiar."

Kwon Do-heon, coming to his senses, agreed with his uncle.

"I haven't even gotten my memories back yet."

The Director said.

"Isn't being a little short on memory better than ending up in a state worse than death?"

"If I say that, since the quest's been completed and there's a chance to get promoted from illegal resident to proper guest, ending it like this leaves me fucking uneasy, so leaving right this second feels off—I'd be a crazy bastard for saying that, in this situation, right?"

"Yeah, yeah—those things called artists are like that to begin with. When one digs in their heels staking even their life on it, there's not much anybody can say. Who's going to stop a man who wants to throw away what's his own?"

The Director seemed to have no particular intention of persuading Kwon Do-heon. Lee Seon-hae, who had been listening all the while, offered a brief impression.

"Ah, so it's like this?"

"The Sensitivity Bureau isn't a charity, after all."

"True, you are a civil servant."

"Don't lump perfectly decent civil servants in and treat us all like lunatics. Though—the Sensitivity Bureau is, admittedly, a bit of a lunatic."

At Lee Seon-hae's and Hong Gyeong-yeon's gazes, the Director waved a hand.

"There are no human rights in this line of work."

"No matter how often I hear it, it's such an alien society."

"Put plainly, there's neither a right to be protected nor a right to protect."

In the Gaps, saying you would protect someone was nothing more than personal greed and preference.

"It's not a place you can judge by notions of right and wrong, you see."

Had there really been many such cases at the Sensitivity Bureau?

"To protect one person, you turn the dozens who meant to kill that bastard into your enemies. If there were at least some law on the books, I'd wade in even if it meant taking abuse and a blade—but unless it's something I personally can answer for my whole life, the situation always slides toward the worse. That's what the society of the Gaps is."

This world keeps turning that way.

"This case might be a bit different, but when an artist decides to throw away their own life, I tend not to touch it. There are things I've seen in all my years… if anything, artists are the breed that lives all the better, defiantly, precisely when they're raising hell."

"No, just because I hesitated to leave out of unease, calling it 'raising hell' is a bit much."

"Then how is crawling on all fours down a thorny path, heedless of your precious life, fumbling after a memory no bigger than a speck of dust—how is that not raising hell?"

"Tch—I can't win on this topic. I'll shut up."

"Blood's barely dry on your scalp, and wise to boot. You, brat—you'll live a good long while. I like you."

"And it's not like I mean to do anything right this instant…."

Kwon Do-heon, who was getting thoroughly worked over by the seasoned elder, said with an awkward face.

"Obviously, if there's no hill worth leaning on, I'll leave."

"I like that too. You've got a sharp way about you. How about it—any interest in learning under me?"

"Ah, no thanks. Anyway, that's not it."

Kwon Do-heon continued.

"We haven't even checked our notes yet."

He held up the memo and the assorted items he'd been clutching.

"Fuck, after all that suffering, I think I'm at least owed knowing what happened."

"That temper of his—now there's a budding artist if I ever saw one."

* * *

…….

…….

The foolish villagers, declaring the young lady an ill omen, branded her a witch.