Weekend evening. Dusk was slowly falling.
Ruslan cautiously observed Sarka’s mood while holding his breath in the corner of the living room, just as he had done for the past few days.
Like a mouse whose mousehole entrance had been blocked, Ruslan evaluated himself.
For the past few days, Sarka had leisurely left Ruslan alone.
He seemed to think there was no need to diligently torment a mouse that had nowhere to escape.
Since what Sarka wanted in the first place wasn’t Ruslan’s fear but Baigarten’s anxiety, the more nothing happened, the more he could leisurely enjoy the sight of Baigarten going half-mad with unease.
From Sarka’s perspective, it was a business with no losses.
When he learned that Ruslan had chosen to remain in Sarka’s room rather than return to the scholarship dormitory, Baigarten was furious like fire.
He glared at Ruslan with a frightening gaze as if reproaching a foolish child, but though Ruslan felt guilty, he turned away from Baigarten’s gaze.
Ruslan could also guess that after Baigarten had pressed Sarka with every possible method to somehow release Ruslan, he’d managed to cajole him to the point where Sarka gave that choice in a fit of anger.
The process of driving Sarka to the point where he’d become genuinely annoyed and irritated enough to give in, without provoking Sarka who normally wouldn’t budge an inch just to upset Baigarten, would have required very sophisticated and complex calculations.
Even understanding that effort, Ruslan hated the thought of ending so futilely more than death.
If Ruslan gave up here, Sarka would erase Ruslan’s memories. Perhaps, instead of risking being bothered in the future, he might even erase his memories of Kanya.
Baigarten, that cautious and strict man, would definitely urge Sarka to do so.
The fact that a classmate with extensive knowledge about vampires was searching for vampires with obsession bordering on madness within this school would be an unpleasant matter for those harboring dangerous secrets.
Ruslan unconsciously imagined himself having forgotten Kanya.
He’d probably just become an ordinary Frükan scholarship student and study diligently. While wondering at himself for having wasted time until now on useless books about vampires.
A few years later, he might graduate school with good grades, obtain Empire citizenship, find a decent job, and live comfortably.
In a better house than anyone in his hometown who had despised and hated Ruslan, living proudly as a successful immigrant.
But Ruslan didn’t want that.
Rather than forgetting Kanya and enjoying a smooth life, he wanted to remember that kind woman even if he lived the most miserable life.
If not for Ruslan, there wouldn’t be a single person to remember Kanya’s good and tender heart, that she was someone who desperately wished for the safety of the orphan she’d raised like her own child until just before her death.
When he thought about even himself forgetting that kind vampire, his heart felt like it was being torn to shreds.
Ruslan truly didn’t care if he was treated as Sarka’s slave or livestock, despised and hated—he wanted to remain in this painful life.
Beside that cold and beautiful vampire boy.
That afternoon.
Sarka was half-reclined on the living room sofa, indifferently killing time.
However, Ruslan couldn’t take his eyes off that extremely leisurely scene.
Like children do absentmindedly when bored, Sarka was folding paper with an indifferent expression.
Using only telekinesis without lifting a finger.
Sarka had both arms supporting his neck, his upper body half-buried against the sofa backrest, just slightly turning his head to look at the table.
His fingers didn’t even emerge from behind Sarka’s neck, but while Sarka quietly gazed with his red eyes, the paper on the table was folding itself into an airplane. It was a magical scene.
Ruslan gaped and frantically watched the papers moving on their own.
Sarka seemed to want to confirm how precisely he could use telekinesis. Just as children carefully align corners with their fingertips while folding cautiously, Sarka manipulated his telekinesis minutely to align the corners. Each time the thin papers made rustling sounds while forming sharp angles, Ruslan unconsciously felt a strange sensation.
Sarka was concentrating with an indifferent expression. Red light sparkled in Sarka’s eyes as he carefully slid the paper trying to align the edges perfectly.
The moment the completed airplane’s wings spread at a perfect angle, Ruslan unconsciously swallowed with a gulp.
“……”
As if reacting to that sound, Sarka’s eyes moved and met Ruslan’s navy blue eyes, which had been staring blankly.
“!”
Ruslan unconsciously stopped breathing while firmly closing his mouth that had been hanging open.
It felt like he’d been caught secretly peeking at Sarka immersed in his private time.
Ruslan made a guilty expression for no reason and wiggled his bottom, trying to move away from Sarka’s gaze.
After Baigarten’s advice, Ruslan had been restraining himself from <crawling up> to Sarka as he’d said.
He could endure Sarka tormenting him, but he was afraid that out of annoyance, Sarka might erase his memories and chase him out.
However, at that frightened mouse-like reaction, Sarka slowly raised his upper body while taking his gaze off the paper. Like a capricious child whose interest had suddenly changed.
Ruslan instinctively tensed.
He felt like it was the sight of a cat that had suddenly discovered a mouse it had forgotten was there, languidly stretching its legs.
Sarka’s red eyes, staring intently at the frightened Ruslan, blinked.
Beside Sarka lost in thought, the corners of the paper airplane on the table bounced—tap, tap.
Ruslan recalled the scene of a cat that had discovered a flying insect moving the tip of its tail while contemplating whether to reach out or not. A cat conflicted between boredom and laziness.
As if having made a decision, a languid voice slipped smoothly from Sarka’s lips.
“……Shall we play a game?”
Ruslan’s eyes widened. Sarka’s voice was soft.
When he stared blankly while blinking, Sarka slowly stood up and picked up the completed airplane with an elegant motion.
Sarka, who crossed the living room silently like a walking cat toward the terrace, passed by Ruslan who was vacantly turning his head following Sarka’s movements, and opened the terrace door.
Sarka’s silver hair fluttered, dyed purple and orange in the evening sunset. The sight of Sarka in white indoor clothes standing in the dazzling sunset while facing the evening breeze was like a painting drawn by softly stirring brilliant paints.
Sarka extended his white arm holding the airplane to aim at the air, then lightly flicked his wrist to send it flying toward the sunset.
The airplane smoothly glided through the air riding the wind.
Whether it was a tailwind, the airplane that had flown quite far finally fell between the trees only after reaching above the forest behind the dormitory.
Sarka turned his head to languidly look back at Ruslan sitting dazed in the living room.
With the golden evening sunset seeping into the outline of the boy half-turned with his arms draped over the railing, Sarka looked like a white porcelain doll rimmed with gold thread.
Standing leaning against the terrace in an elegant pose like a still life someone had deliberately placed there, Sarka indifferently declared.
“……If you retrieve that airplane just now, you and I will become friends.”
“……!!”
Ruslan’s eyes grew huge.
Ruslan froze for a moment unable to even breathe, looking up at Sarka smiling in the backlit shadow inside the golden rim.
Sarka just smiled serenely while blankly looking down at Ruslan.
Like a young child being capricious simply because the weekend evening was too boring and tedious.
Pop!
Ruslan threw off the blanket covering his knees and sprang up like a spring.
An excited voice burst out urgently lest he miss this opportunity.
“Okay, fine!!”
Sarka smiled silently while crinkling his eyes.
Ruslan rushed out of the room making crashing sounds, his shoes half falling off, and dashed toward the stairs.
While running panting into the forest behind the dormitory after leaving the building at a speed almost like tumbling down, Ruslan felt his head spinning.
……What is he thinking?
What does he want to do?!
It was clear Sarka was playing a nasty prank, but it was a game where Ruslan had no choice from the start.
Though faint anxiety, fear, and doubt made his head dizzy, Ruslan bit his lips tight and ran.
According to Baigarten, Sarka wouldn’t kill or injure Ruslan.
Actually, even if he did kill him, he would have jumped in anyway.
With the feeling of jumping naked from above a rough waterfall, Ruslan plunged into the forest where dusk was beginning to fall.
Even if his whole body shattered hitting the water surface like this, Ruslan thought he had no choice but to jump.
If it was a condition that Sarka, that arrogant and cold vampire,
would become <friends>.
***
Ruslan hurriedly looked around searching for the direction the airplane had fallen.
The surroundings were gradually darkening. He needed to find the direction at least while visibility was bright.
Around the time the sun was setting, Ruslan’s steps, which had been restless with anxiety, stopped.
Ruslan’s navy blue eyes, which had turned his head to look up at the tree branches, shone a brilliant blue receiving the last sun rays.
A white bird sat on a branch holding the airplane in its beak, tilting its head to look down at Ruslan.
His heart began to pound.
After observing Ruslan while tilting its head this way and that for a moment, the bird soon flapped its wings and flew up.
Ruslan frantically chased that bird as fast as his feet could carry him.
The sun was gradually setting. Visibility gradually narrowed to dim intervals. However, the white paper the white bird held reflected faint sunset light even in the darkness.
Ruslan got up like a roly-poly even after falling several times and ran chasing the bird.
He felt the forest was gradually deepening. He discovered fences and wire netting put up to prevent students from crossing over, but Ruslan pushed through them without caring that his clothes were tearing.
The white bird would fly away but when Ruslan fell or was delayed, it would sit on a branch and wait briefly, and when Ruslan started running again, it would immediately flap its wings and fly again.
Ruslan, who had been running around panting like a calf with a nose ring, finally stopped panting when the bird landed on a branch and put down the airplane.
The white bird put down the airplane among the leaves, then tilted its beak back and ruffled the feathers behind its back as if something was itchy.
While Ruslan was catching his ragged breath, when the bird showed no signs of flying away, he soon placed his hand on the tree trunk.
Ruslan quickly began climbing the tree like a small monkey. Though his old shoes were a bit slippery, Ruslan, who had grown up running through the mountains, skillfully climbed silently right below where the bird was.
The white bird was still spreading its wing joints and busily grooming between its feathers with its beak. Ruslan gripped the branches and held his breath for a moment. When the bird showed no signs of looking down, Ruslan swallowed and carefully reached out his hand.
The edge of the airplane wing briefly touched his fingertips trembling with tension. The bird suddenly turned its head and looked down at Ruslan, tilting its head. It was the moment when Ruslan urgently reached out his hand, thinking he should grab it before the bird grasped the situation.
Flutter!
The bird that had grabbed the airplane and flown up in an instant moved and landed on a tree a few steps away.
Ruslan bit his lips and glared at that bird.
……So it’s this kind of thing again after all.
His insides boiled, but the determined Ruslan soon steeled his resolve and gripped the branch tight.
There was no option to refuse even if he received mutt training all night long.
The moment he unconsciously lowered his head to check where to step next, Ruslan’s entire body suddenly froze.
Beasts glowing red eyes in the darkness were surrounding the tree Ruslan had climbed, gathering in a circle.
A few looked like wild dogs. A few seemed to be types like wildcats or wild foxes.
Though he couldn’t grasp their exact appearance in the darkness, the gazes of the animals glowing red were all directed straight at Ruslan without exception.
The reason the groundskeeper released and raised black dogs was precisely because of these beasts. Wild animals that occasionally entered the school at night and took away the rabbits raised in the hunting grounds—though they weren’t predators, they were incomparably more violent and skilled at hunting than the black dogs.
Ruslan had also seen the black dogs walking around with red claw marks on their noses from fighting with mountain beasts the night before, or occasionally limping around. Sometimes they seemed to have had deep wounds on their backs or napes, dripping blood.
As the beasts gradually approached closer, there was the subtle sound of grass being trampled. Ruslan felt cold sweat gathering and becoming sticky on his hands gripping the branches.
Darkness was rapidly descending. The sun sank below the ground, and even the faint purple afterglow that had remained at the edge of the horizon disappeared.
In the pitch-black forest shadows where even moonlight didn’t enter well, the beasts’ eyes glowed bright red.
“Grrrrr……”
Feeling the killing intent embedded in the low rumbling growls, Ruslan instinctively thought.
……This game won’t be easy.
