It had been like that all day long.
Sarka seemed to regard Ruslan as either an obedient mutt that followed orders well or a stray cat he was toying with out of boredom.
No, if that had been the case, there would have been at least some meager sense of reward. Dogs and cats can at least be helpful to their masters or provide them with pleasure.
However, Sarka casually cast aside all the goodwill, devotion, and help that Ruslan offered with less sincerity than one would use to flick a booger off one’s clothes.
Just as he had thrown away the breakfast Ruslan had brought and hadn’t even glanced at the book Ruslan had practically rolled around the library to find, Sarka seemed to have no intention whatsoever beyond a consistent purpose of exhausting and infuriating Ruslan.
Whenever Ruslan tried somehow to show goodwill to Sarka, to be helpful, Sarka’s attitude of pouring out all that sincerity without a moment’s hesitation like water through a bottomless jar was even insincere.
After giving Ruslan another order that would undoubtedly send him running around on yet another useless errand, when Ruslan returned utterly exhausted and panting after carrying out the order through sheer stubbornness and grit, Sarka would wear an expression as if he’d suddenly remembered something, going “Oh, right.”
……At least if you’re going to torment someone, show some interest in the target you’re tormenting. Bruce’s gang at least gave me consistent attention……
Realizing he was feeling something almost like wistful longing for Bruce’s gang, who had always devoted themselves wholeheartedly to their tiresome attention, Ruslan felt a bit deflated.
To compare the difference between them, it was like the difference between neighborhood brats who torment a local mutt at least having the sincerity to chase the dog around with a stick, versus a kid who briefly traps an ant crawling on the windowsill in a cup and then forgets about it when he goes to eat, wasn’t it?
They say indifference is sadder than malice.
Though he found himself pathetically wishing there was at least enough interest for Sarka to dislike him, Ruslan still didn’t give up and stubbornly followed Sarka around.
Even an ant so insignificant it’s too bothersome to torment earnestly—if it keeps hovering and crawling around in front of your eyes, you’d at least glance at it out of annoyance, right!
While constantly watching for opportunities to somehow be helpful, to melt Sarka’s heart, and observing Sarka’s daily life in the process…
Ruslan suddenly noticed that Sarka, just as he had done on the fourth floor of the auxiliary library that day, would sometimes use his psychic powers as a pastime to play tricks on people he didn’t like.
A prime example was during dinner time.
Since Sarka detestably still acted gentlemanly in front of his friends, Ruslan had been waiting for that opportunity to appeal to him for even a bit of favor.
When Sarka’s friends discovered the jam jar was empty and grumbled about it, Ruslan jumped up before anyone could even ask him.
“I’ll go get it!”
He grabbed the empty jar and diligently ran to the serving table to scoop up jam, when he happened to run right into Bruce’s gang who had come to get juice.
“Our Russi, running errands for his new masters, I see? If you’re getting paid for errands, please buy yourself some new shoes for once.”
At Bruce’s mockery, the 1-2-3 lackeys looked at Ruslan’s worn-out shoes and laughed obnoxiously.
Perhaps thinking Ruslan was sucking up to rich boys to escape their bullying, Bruce sneered with an even more spiteful expression than usual.
As always, Ruslan kept his head slightly lowered, appropriately humored them, and let the ridicule slide off him.
When he carefully turned his body, trying to maintain the least offensive expression possible, Ruslan suddenly noticed that Sarka, sitting at the table across from them, was staring at Bruce’s gang.
For a very brief moment, Sarka’s gaze rested expressionlessly on Bruce’s gang.
When one of his friends spoke to him, Sarka’s gaze soon scattered in that direction, but Ruslan suddenly felt there had been a faint hostility contained in that look. A colorless, odorless, subtle hostility so fine that Ruslan would have had trouble noticing it if he hadn’t seen Sarka’s bare face beyond the mask.
Before long, Ruslan was able to confirm his feeling had been correct.
As dinner time ended and they left the dining hall, Ruslan was glancing at the scene of Bruce’s gang noisily chattering away. Bruce was throwing peanuts at the back of some timid scholarship student’s head, using it as a target.
The scholarship student who had become an unlucky target was keeping his head down and silently enduring the humiliation. It was an unpleasant and vulgar scene. Bruce’s gang was even walking backwards, competitively throwing peanuts at that scholarship student right up until the moment they left the dining hall.
Ruslan, who had been glancing that way, suddenly had his attention stolen by the serving table next to Bruce’s gang.
He witnessed a bottle of salad oil toppling forward all by itself with a *tok*. As if someone had given it a slight tug with an invisible hand from thin air.
The slippery oil sauce that gurgled out from the bottle’s mouth spread across the floor, then quickly spread close to where Bruce’s gang was walking backwards.
The moment Ruslan was about to unconsciously let out an “Uh-oh” sound, Bruce and Lackey #1, who had stepped on the oil, simultaneously fell flat on the floor with their feet flying up into the air.
*THUD!*
The students’ gazes all converged at once. Upperclassmen passing by burst into laughter at Bruce’s gang’s ridiculous, bewildered expressions. Ruslan could see Bruce’s face flush bright red.
Ruslan unconsciously whipped his head around to look back at Sarka.
Sarka was indifferently looking back at Bruce’s gang, then listlessly turned his head and began walking again.
However, having seen that look in his eyes, Ruslan was certain it was Sarka who had knocked over that sauce bottle.
It was exactly the same look he’d had when appreciating Ruslan at the moment Ruslan had fallen victim to Sarka’s mischief and ended up in a ridiculous state.
Ruslan barely managed to suppress the laughter he had almost burst out with despite himself. A strange affection for Sarka bubbled up as a suddenly joyful feeling welled up inside him.
That day, on the fourth floor of the auxiliary library, it must have been like this too.
Seeing as Sarka hadn’t properly recognized who Ruslan was at first, sending the black dog that day wasn’t because of Ruslan—it was because Bruce’s gang had irritated him just like now. Because they committed such base acts, targeting only powerless scholarship students.
The hostility and disillusionment contained in Sarka’s eyes hadn’t been Ruslan’s imagination. Ruslan looked at Sarka’s back with an unnecessarily pleased gaze.
You—you pretend to be mean, but you’re actually a righteous guy who hates thugs who bully the weak, aren’t you?
I knew I was right. Even if you have some childish corners, your fundamental nature isn’t bad. You’re actually quite a kind and good-hearted vampire.
Forgetting entirely how Sarka had made him run around in circles all day long in an infuriating manner, Ruslan became immersed in such a pleasant mood that he wanted to playfully shove Sarka’s shoulder.
Hehe. When did you torment me, and yet when I’m actually being bullied by other guys, you secretly take revenge for me……
*THUD!*
Ruslan, who had been grinning and staring at Sarka’s back of the head with an affectionate gaze, ended up sprawled on the floor with his limbs flailing, accompanied by a sound loud enough to put Bruce’s gang to shame.
More than pain, an intense bewilderment made Ruslan unconsciously look down at his feet, realizing he had magnificently tripped over a mop handle that had somehow silently fallen in front of him.
Bruce’s gang burst into guffaws, pointing at Ruslan as if they’d forgotten their own humiliation.
Ruslan blankly turned his head and unconsciously looked back at Sarka, only to realize that Sarka was calmly looking down at him with exactly the same listlessness he’d worn when looking at Bruce’s gang earlier, but this time with unmistakably clear contempt and affectionate mockery added on top.
“……”
After spacing out on all fours blinking for a moment, Ruslan soon came to his senses and jumped up as if nothing had happened, acting like he was perfectly fine. Students passing by glanced at Ruslan with expressions barely holding back laughter, but Ruslan pretended not to notice, kept his head held stiffly high, and only looked straight at Sarka.
While Sarka’s friends, startled by the sound of Ruslan falling, turned around, Sarka had kindly stopped in place and was waiting for Ruslan to get up. With the face of a kind boy who couldn’t just leave behind a friend who had ended up in a ridiculous state.
When Ruslan vigorously dusted off his knees and began walking energetically, Sarka finally smoothly turned his body and followed his friends.
Following behind him, Ruslan narrowed his eyes and glared piercingly at that silver head.
That guy, that guy—he’s not just childish but petty, and on top of that, he has a talent for making people embarrassed.
The handsome back of a head that he’d once thought he’d have no regrets hitting just once was insufferably annoying, but Ruslan took a deep breath like someone meditating and decided to regain his benevolent and profound mindset.
I searched for eight years, and the vampire I finally got to meet has a somewhat dirty and petty personality—I can endure that much.
As long as he’s alive.
With an expression of incomparable benevolence, looking at Sarka’s back, Ruslan decided to understand everything.
Right, how hard must it be to live as a vampire in this harsh world. His temperament could grow a bit twisted. How hard must life have been for him to grow up with such sharp edges. As long as he’s breathing, that’s enough. Good job, well done.
If Sarka had seen the expression like a mother finding her mischievous child endearing, he would have turned everything upside down with all sorts of mischief again, but fortunately Sarka didn’t look back once all the way to the dormitory building, so Ruslan could freely act as benevolent as he wanted.
***
Night.
Having finished preparing to sleep on the floor next to the terrace with a blanket laid out as usual, Ruslan watched as Sarka came out of the bathroom and sat languidly on the sofa, then cautiously threw out a question.
“……How did you survive?”
Sarka, who had been turning pages of a book, turned his head and indifferently looked back at Ruslan.
Though his expression still looked like he’d heard a dog barking somewhere, Ruslan could no longer contain his curiosity. Ever since he’d realized Sarka’s identity, all sorts of questions had been filling his head to the brim.
Sarka was the son of an influential count’s family. Hütivras was a family that had received a title for their achievements during the Empire’s expansion wars, one of the noble families close to the Imperial family.
“Your family members, I mean…… are they the same kind of person as you?”
Ruslan’s voice trembled slightly despite himself.
Could it be that vampire blood had flowed through that noble family for generations? Until now, 600 years later?
It was something tremendous enough to be frightening just to imagine.
But if they had possessed such power for generations, why hadn’t the Hütivras seized the imperial throne long ago and controlled the Empire at will?
It was too modest for vampires who could manipulate human minds at will to be satisfied with a mere count’s title.
What reason would there be to be careful in this place where purification ceremonies and vampire trials were prohibited?
If becoming emperor was bothersome, they could have manipulated the emperor’s mind to grant them at least a duke’s title, then naturally be enjoying wealth rivaling the Imperial family.
Ruslan guessed that Sarka was probably a boy who had coincidentally been born with abilities. Perhaps like Kanya had been.
Though Sarka gave no answer, Ruslan continued cautiously voicing the questions that kept spinning in his head alone.
“Your parents, I mean…… they know, right? And regardless of that…… they acknowledge you as their son, right?”
Ruslan swallowed and looked up at Sarka with a gaze full of tension and worry.
If a vampire with such strong abilities had been born as their child, anyone would have been terrified. Especially from such an influential noble family—it would have been an enormous shock. If this fact were discovered, the repercussions that family would have to bear would be terrifying.
Especially since the Empire had declared as its state religion the New Church, which claimed that “vampires have been eradicated.” Sarka’s existence could perhaps even threaten the Empire’s security.
A Hütivras family loyal to the Imperial family should have killed Sarka the moment he was born. That was realistically the wisest and safest solution.
Even if their hearts had broken and they couldn’t bear to end their own child’s life, the most permissible compromise would have been to hide him at home under some excuse like being sickly, raising him hidden from exposure to other people. So that he could live confined his entire life without marrying anyone, quietly ending his life without leaving behind a bloodline.
However, Sarka had survived, and was sitting in a luxurious room at the Empire’s finest educational institution in spotlessly clean attire, surrounded by peers of similarly splendid backgrounds.
Even given the special privilege of using an entire four-person room by himself, as if to reduce the risk of his identity being discovered, without lacking anything.
Did that mean Sarka’s parents loved Sarka with a burning passion?
Did it mean that they loved and loved him so much that they wanted to give their child a life lacking nothing, even at the risk of great danger?
“……You sure are curious about a lot of things.”
Sarka, who had been calmly looking down at Ruslan, responded in a dry voice. Ruslan’s eyes sparkled at the interest he’d barely obtained, and he poured out his words as if he’d been waiting for this.
“The person who raised me was a vampire too! My grandmother. Not my real grandmother, but she was as good as my real grandmother to me. Grandmother could control dogs with psychic powers like you. She controlled a fierce dog that only bit young children and made it gentle as if by magic. The one who hypnotized the dog in our village that I mentioned back then—that was my grandmother!”
Despite the amazing story pouring out uncontrollably from his delight, Sarka’s expression remained dry. It was the expression of someone watching the neighborhood dog bark a bit noisily this time.
But Ruslan didn’t care and continued pouring out words with sparkling eyes and excited energy. He had so many things he wanted to say to Sarka, since just having him listen was good enough. Stories he wanted to hear answers to, even if just a little.
“It seems like such an amazing ability! That hypnosis that my grandmother and you used! The way you controlled that black dog that day was so fascinating too. How do you do that? Can you move them however you want? Is it possible with any animal?”
Ruslan, who had been pouring out words intensified with excitement and admiration, suddenly felt a strange sensation in his arms.
Like when an arm that’s been pressed somewhere for a long time tingles, the moment he thought his arms suddenly felt numb like someone else’s body……
*Thwap*, Ruslan’s arms moved on their own accord and blocked his mouth that had been pouring out words.
“……?!”
Ruslan looked down in shock at his two arms that had moved completely unrelated to his own will.
Though he could vividly feel the moist sensation of his lips against the palm covering his mouth and the breath puffing out from his flustered nose, his two hands wouldn’t budge at all no matter how much he tried to move them, as if they were someone else’s body.
“……! ……!!”
The flustered Ruslan struggled, going “Mmph mmph” while squirming his shoulders, trying somehow to remove his hands from his mouth, but his body only shifted dully like someone tied up tightly with rope.
Looking down indifferently at Ruslan, who was struggling and squirming like a caterpillar in the position of having covered his own mouth, Sarka answered with a still dry and expressionless face.
“Right, any animal.”
“……!!”
Ruslan looked up at Sarka with wide eyes blinking. Sarka looked down at Ruslan listlessly with the expression of a zookeeper who had tied up the muzzle of a noisy beast, and spat out in a flavorless, emotionless dry voice:
“So don’t act familiar and ramble on about your stories.”
