The seventh day. Bleeding began.
Baigarten, whom he met at breakfast time, didn’t explain at length.
He said Sarka’s condition was gradually worsening, and that he had received a response from the Count that he still had no intention of ending the punishment without hearing Sarka’s apology.
Baigarten’s face as he said this was expressionless. Having finished speaking in a deliberately emotion-erased tone, he let Ruslan into the classroom and returned to Sarka’s room.
At lunchtime, Baigarten didn’t come down to the dining hall to fetch Ruslan.
When the hesitating Ruslan went up to Sarka’s room and knocked, after a moment there were footsteps and the door opened.
Ruslan’s face hardened when he saw the blood-soaked towel in Baigarten’s hand.
Baigarten quietly let Ruslan inside and closed the door, then explained with a rigid face.
“……Nosebleeds have started.”
Baigarten silently crossed the living room and opened the bedroom door. Ruslan froze when he saw inside.
Sarka was positioned sitting propped against the bed headboard. Both wrists were turned behind his back, still bound to the headboard. The gag had been removed, and the tube that had been inserted in his nose had also been taken out. Ruslan thought he knew why it had to be removed.
The front of his shirt was completely soaked from the enormous amount of nosebleed flowing from Sarka’s nose, and even the bed sheets were stained red.
When too much blood poured out of his nose all at once, the tube inserted in his nose would have instead increased his pain, and the gag would have made it difficult to breathe through his mouth.
Sarka’s shoulders were rigidly stiff. Sarka, who must have struggled to breathe in addition to the bleeding, had completely exhausted himself and lost consciousness.
Ruslan thought he understood why Sarka had been in such pain yesterday that he desperately smashed his head trying to break it.
This wasn’t a level of bleeding that could occur from a concussion caused by banging his forehead against the wall.
The body that had been resisting with fever and headaches was now beginning to pour out the poison-contaminated blood.
It was tantamount to a final struggle to purify itself before the body died.
Sarka’s self-harm and resistance were the last burst of strength just before reaching death. Like a candle flickering up one last time in a desperate struggle just before going out.
Ruslan felt dizzy.
The pain that Sarka’s father wanted to give his son, <enough to make him think he might really die>, was literal.
Sarka’s body had now clearly reached death’s threshold.
“……”
While Ruslan stood frozen in a daze, Baigarten silently wiped Sarka’s face and began removing the towel placed around Sarka’s neck and the shirt that was stained red with blood that had overflowed below, unable to be absorbed even by that towel.
Though he untied Sarka’s bound wrists to remove the shirt sleeves, Sarka’s arms didn’t go limp but remained stiffly bent backward. It seemed the muscles that had been strained too much in pain had rigidly tensed and fixed in place.
Ruslan silently walked a few steps and grabbed Sarka’s stone-hard shoulders with trembling hands.
Without any conversation, the two began the work of changing Sarka’s shirt and laying him back down on the bed.
Ruslan, carefully moving Sarka’s bent arms, felt that the muscles of Sarka’s back and shoulders were completely hardened as if cast in plaster. The muscles that had struggled to endure the pain while bound had twisted and bunched up on their own.
Knowing that forcing them would injure the muscles, Ruslan turned Sarka’s arms with the gentlest motion possible. As soon as the arms were pulled, a faint breath burst from between Sarka’s lips. It seemed he could feel pain even while unconscious. Every time his arms were forcibly moved, a faint sound that was indistinguishable between a moan and a breath weakly burst out between his cracked lips as his brow wrinkled.
Having barely lowered Sarka’s two arms to the sides of his torso, Ruslan propped a pillow behind Sarka’s neck with trembling hands and began applying medicine to Sarka’s peeled wrists following Baigarten. Sarka’s wrists, which had struggled all night in pain while bound, were bruised and finally had skin peeled off showing blood. There was no conversation between the two during the work.
When the work was finished, Baigarten carefully lifted Sarka’s right hand and loosely tied it.
Baigarten, who was about to finish tying the left hand, hesitated and soon lowered his hand. Ruslan looked down at Sarka’s left arm and understood why he wasn’t tying Sarka’s left hand.
The left arm with the Controller attached had lost its vitality and turned black, transformed like a corpse’s arm. The left arm, where knife cuts and fingernail scratches had festered and swollen before finally beginning to crack black, looked unable to function anymore.
The fingers that had twisted and bent inward seemed paralyzed. He wouldn’t be able to untie his bound right hand with his own strength.
Ruslan silently looked down at Sarka’s face turning dark blue.
Sarka seemed like someone not even breathing. Death circulated through all his blood vessels, chilling the boy’s body cold.
No one could now refute that Angel’s Fangs were deadly poison to vampires.
That they were a weapon the true God personally bestowed, tenderly caring for weak humanity.
Baigarten silently looked down at Sarka’s face where the mucous membranes were crumbling, then came out to the living room with Ruslan.
Baigarten, who had closed the bedroom door and remained silent with dark eyes, spoke rigidly.
“……I’m scheduled to have a meeting with the Headmaster tonight.”
When Ruslan looked at him, Baigarten continued dryly.
“He said if Sarka continues to be stubborn like this… it seems we won’t be able to keep him at the school even after the punishment ends. ……That it’s too dangerous.”
Ruslan’s body stiffened. Baigarten was silent for a moment, then spoke with an expressionless face.
“……This school was probably the last chance the Count gave Sarka. To prove his will to become part of the Coexistence Faction.
If he’s rejected from this school, the Count will drive Sarka out.
And leave him to be dealt with at his aunt’s hands.”
Ruslan’s face contorted.
Baigarten looked like he didn’t know himself why he was telling Ruslan this story. It just seemed he couldn’t bear it without confiding in someone. Even knowing nothing would be resolved, bearing alone the weight that fact carried.
A long silence settled into the room.
Pushing away the heavy silence, Baigarten whispered dryly. His voice, pressed down by the bleak and cruel weight of reality, sank into the quiet air.
“If Sarka doesn’t change his mind… even after the punishment ends, there’s only death in the end.”
Ruslan couldn’t say anything.
Baigarten didn’t open his mouth anymore.
The two parted without farewell.
That night, Ruslan couldn’t fall asleep.
Without even lying down, sitting on the bed, Ruslan kept thinking of Sarka.
That vampire who would die in the end.
As if sunken deep in the ocean and buried in sand, no sound could be heard.
Ruslan felt his own life was ending too. Three days from now, the moment Sarka dies. The feeling that all that obsession and passion he’d struggled and desperately crawled upward with for eight years would scatter away too.
The feeling that Ruslan’s world would now finally completely shatter.
Ruslan knew Sarka wouldn’t yield.
Perhaps he could change his attitude for a moment. Sarka, crushed by the threat and fear of death, could temporarily choose a different method. Just like Ruslan had done eight years ago.
When morning came and he woke from the third fainting spell.
Ruslan had ultimately begged.
He pleaded to be spared, that he would never take his grandmother’s side again, that he was wrong. He swore he would never attack people again, that he would obey the adults’ teachings.
After that, Ruslan never attacked children again, never hardened his expression no matter what the villagers said, and showed not even a hint of displeasure let alone resistance no matter what violence he suffered.
Ruslan smiled.
He smiled like a fool at people who were displeased saying he looked like he wanted revenge for his grandmother with his perpetually death-wish appearance, and smiled apologetically at children throwing stones for being in the way.
He smiled while being kicked and beaten, smiled while watching people’s moods when cursed at. When beaten for his smile being unpleasant, he smiled apologetically as he was beaten.
That’s how Ruslan became a good child. An obedient child who listened well and didn’t go against adults’ wishes.
So what?
Did I ultimately keep that oath?
Ruslan’s face contorted. Ruslan’s eyes rippled blue in the darkness.
No.
I resolved that day.
That I would definitely find the surviving vampire. And that I would unconditionally become that vampire’s ally.
That I would become the friend of that natural enemy that humans fear most, not of any human in the world.
And for eight years I desperately struggled and finally kept that resolution.
Ruslan gritted his teeth. Drawing back the curtain and getting down from the bed, Ruslan began descending the stairs.
The light was still on in the Headmaster’s office.
Ruslan, who had been looking at the Headmaster’s office for a moment, turned and headed toward the special dormitory.
Ruslan looked up at Sarka’s room with its windows closed and curtains drawn, then gripped the terrace railing. Just as he had once desperately chased a white bird, Ruslan grabbed the terrace railing and began climbing upward. Gripping the railings in the darkness, Ruslan was certain.
It won’t change. Not this way… nothing will change.
By force, by fear, by violence, being crushed down… will only make the resistance stronger.
It won’t change anything.
Never…….
Having finally reached the fourth floor and crossed the terrace, Ruslan tried pushing the living room window but it was locked from inside.
After thinking for a moment, Ruslan moved slightly to the side and tried pushing the windows of the unused bedroom on the opposite side from the one Sarka used, one by one.
One very small window was open.
Ruslan gauged the size and judged that with his small build, he could squeeze through and enter.
Ruslan struggled, grunting as he pushed his shoulder in, then soon tumbled rolling into the room.
The unused bedroom had cloths covering the furniture and smelled of dust. Ruslan carefully opened the bedroom door locked from inside. The familiar living room appeared.
However, before even walking toward Sarka’s bedroom, Ruslan, realizing something, froze gripping the doorknob.
A faint sound was leaking from Sarka’s bedroom. A very thin, fragile sound he wouldn’t have heard if not for such a quiet night.
It was the sound of stifled crying.
Ruslan’s entire body froze. Unable to even go out to the living room, Ruslan stopped as if nailed in place and blankly stared at the bedroom door.
Sarka… was crying.
It felt like flames passed through all the blood vessels in his body. The crying wasn’t distinct. Listening to the crying mixed with breathing and faint moaning, Ruslan soon realized it wasn’t a sound made while awake, but crying made while asleep having a nightmare.
His heart split miserably and crumbled like dust. When he realized that faint whimpering was mixed with crushed and tangled faint whispers, Ruslan felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
“Mother… Mother……”
The pieces of his broken heart scattered crumbling onto the ground, then shook violently like an intense earthquake. Before even recalling anything, tears burst forth like a spring from Ruslan’s eyes.
Unable to even release the doorknob, still frozen in the position of half-opening the door, Ruslan cried contorting his entire face. It was as if emotions connected directly to his eyes as soon as they flowed in through his ears, before even passing through his chest or head.
He couldn’t even breathe. His heart instantly burned up and turned to black ash.
Sarka’s crying gradually weakened. Moaning became stronger than sobbing, and panting sounds lengthened instead of the words he’d been murmuring.
The dying boy didn’t even have the strength left to cry freely. Ruslan realized Sarka was being exhausted.
When the gradually fading breathing stopped and silence finally arrived, only then did Ruslan release his trembling hand and walked haltingly.
Crossing the living room, Ruslan pushed open the bedroom door.
On the bed where the curtain had been pulled back for the IV, Sarka lay quietly like a broken doll.
His head turned to the side was twisted weakly, and his right wrist was still bound to the bed. His face was full of clear tear tracks, and his lips were clenched trying to endure the pain that continued even in sleep.
Ruslan climbed onto Sarka’s bed pressing down the crying rising up his throat. Gritting his teeth and looking down at Sarka’s body, Ruslan roughly grabbed Sarka’s nightshirt.
When the buttons opened as if tearing, Sarka’s left arm transformed to a blackly rotting color was revealed. Ruslan pulled back the left side of Sarka’s shirt and looked down at the revealed Controller.
It wouldn’t be a structure that could be torn off with bare hands. Nor a structure that could be cut off using something like a knife or scissors. If you tried to forcibly tear it off, electric shocks would occur.
Carefully observing the Controller, Ruslan suddenly discovered that the lid of the central lock that Sarka had most desperately slashed at was broken.
Reaching out to push aside the broken lid, a small disc with very short needles protruding was revealed. Finding faint bloodstains remaining on the bottom of the disc, Ruslan thought carefully.
This Controller was made using Angel’s Fangs extract. Angel’s Fangs only react to human blood, absorbing that blood before blooming.
If the extract had the same component, they might have used it to create a Controller that could only be opened with human blood. If it was for <punishment>, it would have been designed with such a structure so vampires couldn’t remove it themselves.
Then, with my blood too…….
Ruslan slowly brought his thumb over the short needle protruding from the center of the disc. Ruslan’s thumb, which had hesitated for a moment, pressed down slightly on the needle.
Along with a sharp sensation, a drop of blood flowed down the needle onto the disc. That blood soon seeped into the gap near the disc…….
Click. With a faint sound, the Controller opened.
Ruslan looked down at the Controller with a surprised face for a moment, then with a determined expression removed the Controller from Sarka’s arm and pulled out the thin needle.
When a drop of blood welled up from the arm where the needle was pulled out, Ruslan hurriedly pressed down on it with his sleeve. Ruslan’s sleeve became slightly damp absorbing the blood. After waiting a moment, he could see the blood gradually stop and the dark blue veins that had spread to the wound area also slowly fade.
At the same time, faint strength released from Sarka’s rigidly hardened body. He could hear a faint breath leak out between the clenched lips as the stiffened nape relaxed.
At that breathing sound, Ruslan unconsciously raised his head to check Sarka’s face, but stopped his motion without even removing his hand.
Green eyes and dark blue eyes met.
Sarka with an expressionless face was staring intently down at Ruslan.
Before Ruslan could say anything, cracked lips opened and a hoarse whisper leaked out.
“……How foolish.”
The green eyes turned red and with a tick, the restraints binding Sarka’s hands snapped like thread.
Simultaneously, Ruslan’s body turned half a rotation and was slammed into the floor.
“Kugh!”
His breath completely blocked, his vision temporarily went pitch black.
When he came to his senses, he was pinned to the floor with his neck caught in Sarka’s hand.
Ruslan looked up at the boy sitting on top of him emitting red light in the darkness.
Sarka’s pupils were red as blood, and even the whites had blood vessels burst throughout, making them entirely red light like a vampire’s eyes in a fairy tale illustration.
With a face half-crushed by cracked fingernail marks, shining eerily bright red glass-bead-like eyes, Sarka contorted his face.
“……You came crawling in making such loud noise, did you think I wouldn’t hear?”
The hoarse voice was cracked with terrible hatred, barely intelligible. Ruslan felt goosebumps rise all over his body.
Sarka had been awake.
From the moment Ruslan entered.
And he knew sickeningly accurately which word would provoke this human so he couldn’t bear it and would touch the Controller. That human who always went on about Kanya’s stories.
The force gripping his neck was terrifying. Ruslan reflexively tried to open his mouth, but realized his lips were stuck shut and wouldn’t separate.
Ruslan’s body was completely captured under Sarka’s domination, stuck to the floor unable to move even a finger. Ruslan’s eyes froze.
Sarka was grinding his teeth looking down at Ruslan with a maddened gaze. The tear tracks flowing from eyes dyed with hatred tangled over bright red fingernail marks and dark blue bruises, making the boy’s face like an abstract painting drawn by a mad artist.
Sarka leaned his upper body and breathed his roughened breath on Ruslan’s nape. The lukewarm moisture pushed out by the thin breath not yet recovered clung to his ear.
With his lips brought right up to Ruslan’s ear, Sarka chewed and spat out his voice rotting with hatred and rage as if crushing it.
“……Every moment I opened my eyes, I kept thinking. If this opens, I’ll kill you all and then kill myself too.”
Ruslan’s body froze. Sarka growled low like a mad beast.
“I’ll start with you.”
Bright red eyes flashed.
At the excruciating pain he’d never experienced in his life, Ruslan’s eyes rolled back.
