Disgusted with himself, Sarka sighed and leaned back against the backrest.
His body still felt limp from the drug’s effects, and cold sweat continued to pour out.
Sarka steadied his breathing and closed his eyes.
I might as well sleep. Wasting time on useless thoughts is pointless.
Not long after falling asleep, the dreams he’d grown accustomed to came visiting.
By now, even Sarka knew he was dreaming. He just didn’t know how to wake up.
He was running through a forest where his mother’s screams could be heard. This is my memory.
Watching Sarka standing in the arena, she believed without doubt that her son would surely win. This is my mother’s memory.
He was afraid, watching his mother crush his younger siblings’ kneecaps. This is my memory.
But the anger and disillusionment that followed—those weren’t emotions I felt.
Sarka felt something similar to motion sickness as memories and emotions mixed together.
The dream broke down the boundaries of memory and stitched things together at random.
The memories he’d seen while rummaging through his mother’s mind became corrupted into Sarka’s own memories within the dream, turning his entire head into a confusing mess.
He was hugging a thrall’s neck and crying. He seemed to have been afraid of losing the next day’s match.
Did my mother see this memory? His heart sank.
It was the day his mother had held a helper. Pleasure and desire to conquer, secret joy and blatant desires. So vivid it felt exactly like his own memory.
The moment in his first match when he tore out his opponent’s intestines and looked down at the suffering loser with pure joy. This is my mother’s childhood memory.
Amid the tangled images and emotions, one clear memory suddenly surfaced.
His mother was bathing young Sarka.
The tiny baby appeared to be about one year old. Sarka hadn’t yet experienced Awakening Fever, so his bloodline rank hadn’t been determined.
That day, his mother sent away the servants, saying she wanted to bathe Sarka herself.
Alone in the room, as she placed young Sarka in the bathtub, his mother thought:
If this child were a Complete Pureblood, his Awakening Ceremony should have been held by last week at the latest.
If the Awakening Fever continues not to manifest like this… then it will be the worst possible ending.
It would mean I gave birth to a No-Blood.
The thought that a human came out of my body—there could be nothing more horrifying and disgusting than that.
His mother laid Sarka’s body down into the bathtub and slowly poured water.
She had waited long enough.
She had already finished manipulating evidence from the duel, and now stood at a crossroads: spend another two years or so conceiving a second child, or end it here.
She could delay no longer.
His mother continued pouring water.
Before long, Sarka’s small body was completely submerged in water.
The baby flailed its limbs and coughed up air bubbles.
His mother pressed down on Sarka’s body with her palm to prevent him from surfacing.
Sarka’s limbs continued thrashing, then began to stiffen.
Watching the baby begin to drown, his mother waited carefully.
If he’s a No-Blood, I have to kill him anyway.
But if he’s a Complete Pureblood… perhaps this method could trigger his awakening.
When they sense the crisis of death, babies sometimes instinctively manifest Awakening Fever.
If Awakening Fever comes too early, it creates a disability where they can only use abilities lower than their innate bloodline rank, but this child had already spent sufficient time as a Complete Pureblood.
Either he’s a Complete Pureblood with abilities superior to the average Complete Pureblood, or he’s a No-Blood.
One or the other.
Either way, there needed to be a conclusion now.
“……!!”
After a long wait, the bathtub exploded.
A baby’s piercing cry rang out fiercely throughout the bathroom.
The baby who had bloodied even his mother’s hands clenched both fists tight and wailed frantically.
Pieces of the bathtub that had shot up to the ceiling rolled around scattering water in all directions before stopping.
From deep in her chest, joy exploded like a burst.
The red-eyed baby was screaming and crying. When she touched him, he was hot, as if she’d touched heated iron.
Heat flowers bloomed all over his body as Awakening Fever began. Grabbing Sarka under the armpits and lifting him high, his mother cried out filled with ecstasy.
“As expected of my son! You didn’t disappoint me. I knew you wouldn’t!”
His mother pulled her bloodied son into her arms and kissed him frantically. Joy boiled up from deep in her heart and overflowed.
My son will overcome Awakening Fever.
In a few days, I’ll leave this disgusting place full of human dogs and return to my proud homeland.
My son will inherit my family name, not that stupid man’s, and bring honor to my name.
He’ll become my proud treasure!
His mother was genuinely happy and genuinely trusted him.
Those emotions were so vivid that Sarka even had the illusion that they were his own memories.
Suddenly the scene changed.
His vision was blurry and unclear. The water surface rippled and distorted, his hearing was dull, submerged in water.
Fear, pain, and desperate earnestness vibrated through his body making it tingle.
Air bubbles that escaped from his mouth and nose wobbled as they rose to the surface.
He couldn’t breathe.
This was Sarka’s own memory of drowning.
A young child’s emotions are indistinct and crude, but were pure enough to make him shudder.
Sarka could vividly feel the sensation of his small limbs thrashing in fear, and his mother’s large hand pressing down on his stomach and chest.
Even the dull noise heard underwater and the pain in his nose and throat growing sharp as he swallowed water were as clear as if he were experiencing them again.
The baby who didn’t yet know language didn’t know how to say “save me” or “I don’t want to die.”
The baby who didn’t even know what death was could only struggle instinctively.
Trying somehow to escape from this frightening place.
“……!!!”
Sarka opened his eyes almost convulsively, swallowing a scream.
His entire body trembled, crushed by the one-year-old baby’s enormous and desperate will to survive.
The clammy cold sweat made him feel the horrible sensation that his whole body was still submerged in water.
Feeling his stomach beginning to churn, Sarka covered his mouth and barely held back vomiting. Bile kept rising.
It was a horrifyingly vivid nightmare. When his mother’s memory was triggered, it seemed his completely forgotten memory from age one had been dragged up from deep below along with it. Having exhausted his stamina by forcibly using his abilities during class and being under stress, even very old memories seemed to be getting stimulated.
Sarka closed his trembling eyes. His head throbbed.
It was the first time that last memory had appeared in a dream. It was a memory even Sarka hadn’t known he had.
Just how much more fear is hiding inside me?
The hand covering his mouth was cold. His stomach began to sting. His body was limp but his mind stood sharply on edge.
……There’s no way I’m falling asleep.
If he continued being consumed by emotions like this, his body’s recovery would be even slower. Sarka tried to shake off the memories.
I need to think about something else. Focus my mind elsewhere…
Looking around, Sarka fumbled open his bag, searching for something he could concentrate on.
His fingertips caught on a book. Sarka hesitated.
It was the classical literature that human had proposed a game about.
Sarka slowly picked up that book.
Closing the bag and leaning against the seat, Sarka settled himself as comfortably as possible.
Please let it be an interesting enough book to be immersed in and forget everything.
Sarka opened the book and began reading.
Before long, he could tell it was a rather well-written novel.
But Sarka found himself completely unable to concentrate on the book’s content, his mind continuously stolen by invading thoughts.
[Let’s make it so the loser grants one wish of the winner’s choosing.]
……What does that human want?
What does that human want from me?
From the moment he first accepted that human’s proposal, he hadn’t been curious about the book’s content at all.
He was curious what that human would want to demand.
What on earth that human was thinking when proposing this game.
If he wanted, he could open that human’s mind and read it directly.
But opening a person’s <mind> and freely reading their thoughts or memories is, in principle, something only permitted with one’s own semi-slaves.
In an <equal> relationship, rummaging through someone’s mind without permission was terribly rude.
It was a fact that human didn’t even know, but somehow he was reluctant to use such a method.
But no matter how much he tried to guess, he couldn’t fathom either the purpose of this game or what that human wanted.
Sarka barely finished reading the book in the carriage and train, gathering his concentration that kept scattering due to these thoughts.
Arriving at school, Sarka picked up his bag and got off the carriage.
Climbing the dormitory stairs, as his room drew closer, he could feel his body growing increasingly tense.
Since that day, since that moment when he was absurdly protected by that human.
It felt like every cell in his body was on edge, all focused on that human.
Sarka thought of that morning when that human brought breakfast without ever getting tired.
While he was exasperated by that human’s stubbornness in setting down the plate and watching for his reaction, his head was in confusion.
He still didn’t want to eat that food.
But if I reject this again, what will that human think?
He became anxious with worry about that.
Even while thinking such a self was pathetic, he was helplessly concerned.
Every time that human approached, his head grew complicated about how exactly he should respond.
What should I do?
How should I…
Make it so that human doesn’t get offended,
Doesn’t fear and avoid me,
Continues to offer me that blind loyalty?
[I think humans and vampires are completely equal beings, no different from each other.]
If that human thinks of himself as an equal being to me, then the way things are now won’t do.
Letting him sleep in the living room like a dog, like a servant, contradicts the logic that human demanded.
Let’s change positions first.
He brought that human into the room and divided off half the room to give him.
He also removed the symbolic objects that had emphasized they were not <equal>,
Like ordinary humans do, as roommates in an equal relationship…
……Is this how it should be?
If I do this, will you be mine now?
In the quiet room where that human hesitated and lingered, Sarka was desperately crying out within the silence.
Please teach me the method.
During the breakfast that human brought to share, every nerve was on edge.
Just trying not to show his tension in front of that human was exhausting enough to drain him.
Sarka realized he was now watching that human’s reactions.
Every single aspect of that human hesitating whether or not to speak to him was so concerning it was maddening, yet when he actually spoke, even Sarka himself didn’t know how to respond.
How should I treat him so this relationship doesn’t go wrong?
He had neither the courage nor confidence to rashly attempt anything.
He was afraid and again afraid of failing and losing it all again.
All he knew was…
I can’t crush him with <power> like before.
That human had said clearly. That crushing with power changes nothing. It’s just an endless repetition of power struggles.
Then, with what…
Small things caught his eye.
That he liked hot coffee with butter, or liked sweet foods.
That he ate more than expected, and devoured two or three pieces of bread with jam spread so thick it dripped, sweet enough to make one’s mouth tingle.
That when sausages appeared he ate more than usual, and never left bacon and eggs uneaten,
That he liked hot drinks so he drank them all before they cooled, but sipped cold drinks slowly over a long time.
That he always made sure to eat jelly or pudding.
That he liked cherries…
The moment their fingers touched over the cherry, Sarka was so startled he was flustered at himself for such a reaction.
He was tense down to his toes about what that human would think of him freezing up like that.
But suddenly, realizing that human was similarly tense in a way similar to himself,
His feelings became strange.
Are you concerned about me too?
Like me… are you also observing me while being wary?
The one holding their breath trying not to upset this relationship—
It’s not just me alone, is it?
……Then right now, are we
<Equal>?
If our emotions are <equal>,
Will you continue to stay by my side?
Every time that human made small talk, Sarka’s stomach grew cold with tension.
His head grew complicated with how to answer and he became irritated.
Every time that human spoke to him, Sarka wanted to run away in fear,
Yet was afraid again that that human’s interest would disappear.
You’re interested in me right now, right?
How much?
How far can you go?
How much can you see and still stay by my side?
Sarka had done nothing for that human. He had no right to demand anything.
You just became obsessed with vampires because of your step-grandmother, and I was just the first vampire you found.
Honestly, I don’t think your step-grandmother truly loved you.
Vampires are carnivores. There’s no way she loved a human as an equal.
But if that’s the case, you’d leave me, wouldn’t you?
You’re just clinging to me out of your own selfishness, to ease your guilt about failing to protect your step-grandmother.
Any vampire would have been fine.
You don’t know anything about me.
If you learn what kind of person I am, will you run away?
Even knowing I’m this miserable despite my abilities and bloodline,
Even knowing I’m full of such weak greed and madness,
Are you on my side?
My mother loved me.
She loved me so much. Enough to willingly give up her life for me.
But she never said what you said.
She never said she’d love me even if I were nothing.
[Why… did you accept me?]
Because I wanted to have you.
Because I wanted that blind loyalty and goodwill to be mine forever.
[Is there anything… I can do for you?]
Don’t leave me.
Don’t abandon me.
Don’t leave me alone.
Stay by my side.
Keep staying by my side and look at me.
Don’t look elsewhere, only look at me.
[If there’s anything you want to ask me, ask. I’ll answer no matter what.]
I have so many questions I want to ask, but there’s not a single one I can voice.
They’re too pathetic, trivial, and utterly childish desires.
If I had to express them,
‘Do you like me?
How much do you like me?
Will you continue to like me?’
That’s the level of desire.
Even if my breath stopped, I could never spit out such questions, but ultimately what Sarka was primitively curious and anxious about was that sort of thing.
Even though I have the power to snap your life without lifting a finger, to open and rummage through your mind as I please?
Even though I’m a dangerous vampire who can dominate you and make you my slave?
Won’t you fear and hate me?
Not fearing and obeying me the way I do with my father, with Belial…
Can you like me?
[……To be honest, sometimes… I’m scared.]
That answer made his breath catch.
[I don’t really know what you think of me…
I’m worried that… maybe I’m mistaken.]
What do you think?
I want to devour you as mine. I want to clutch you. I want to possess you.
What are you mistaking that for?
[Are we… <friends>?]
<Friends>?
No.
Your and my emotions are absolutely not equal.
Your <goodwill> and my <possessiveness> don’t resemble each other at all.
However, I… if giving it that name is what allows you
To remain by my side,
I want you to be mistaken.
That we’re <friends>.
Climbing the stairs, Sarka thought.
Finally all his thoughts organized clearly and gathered into one conclusion.
So the only thing I can do is
Imitate your attitude.
Copy your emotions
And steal the way you treat me and return it to you pretending not to know.
Deceive you as if we can be <friends>.
So you’ll mistake that you and I are <equal>.
Finally, Sarka ended his hesitation and turned the doorknob to open it.
