THE BLOODSUCKING SLEUTH

"My father told me that he was saved by a guy named Vincent Valakia. Said he owed him far more than he could ever pay, and moreover that the guy refused to be paid. I never got to meet him, but I sure would've liked to. Vio? Never heard that name before."

"Vincent Valakia? Yeah, of course I know him! Our store was named after him. Apparently he made a deep impression on my grandmother. I heard so many stories that I'm not sure what to really believe, but the guy seemed amazing. I don't know about any Vio, but I think I heard he had a son named... something like Victor?"

"I was so young when I met that old man Vincent. Now I'm an old man myself, but when I think back to him I feel young again. No, maybe I just don't want to lose. He was far more lively as a geezer than I ever was as a young man. "Vio? Yeah, come to think of it, he did have a grandson named that. I don't remember him very well though."

"Vincent. I knew him. Met him only twice, but twice was enough. Maybe too much. I can barely remember anything at this age, but him I can't forget. Went to his funeral too. His poor son couldn't be there. Victor died young. But his grandson was there. Looked so much like his father. What was his name again? ...Oh! That's right. Vio."

- Testimonials about Vincent Valakia, collected by G. M. Ziggurat

THE BLOODCURDLING HUNTERS

"You're asking about Iscario T. Rosenkranz, huh? It's a name I haven't heard in a long, long time.

Years ago, he used to work directly under me. The 6th Division―we were neither full of the most promising young recruits, nor did we have a track record of taking down particularly powerful vampires. Nonetheless, people respected our work, and they respected us. Because what we didn't have in terms of quality, we made up for with sheer volume.

Out of every division in the Thirteenth Chamber, it was the 6th that took down the most vampires. And it was that man―Rosenkranz, that personally saw to it to inflate that number as much as he could.

He lived like a monk. He didn't have any hobbies or passions outside of work that I knew of. I probably ought to commend a man so devoted to his faith, but honestly, I found him to be a creepy bastard. I could never read him.

(Takes drag from cigarette)

Oh, this? Sorry. I guess it doesn't exactly gel with the scripture. Though I've lived my life for the sake of faith, I don't consider myself a saint for it. If anything, I'd say I racked up a far bigger share of sins than most.

It takes dirty hands to keep the world clean."

- Excerpt from an interview with Morrigan Z. Gyldenstern, Cardinal of the Thirteenth Chamber of the Paethon

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Vio Valakia
The narrator. A vampire. While on the run from hunters, stumbles upon a mysterious locked room...

Rafflesia Valpurga
The victim. A taciturn girl. Found near death in a locked room. She was saved by being turned into a vampire.

Iscario T. Rosenkranz
Number IV of the Thirteenth Chamber. Vampire hunter. Dispatched to exterminate Vio, but the two come to an unorthodox agreement.

Rosalia X. Dornenkrone
Number IX of the Thirteenth Chamber. Vampire hunter. Dispatched to exterminate Vio. Just what is it that fuels her intense hatred of vampires?

THE BLOODSOAKED LOCKED ROOM

St. Purgatorio village―a small settlement on the western periphery of the Dukedom of Grimgrave. Its location is not recorded on any well-circulated maps, and even most locals living around the area would tilt their heads in confusion if they were to hear the name. The existence of the village is only known to a few traders working in the nearest town who happened to have conducted business with its inhabitants.

Given the lack of any solid records, it is impossible to say how long the village has existed, but there are historical traces which suggest that it had been established as far back as three hundred years ago. For a settlement near a border which had constantly shifted over time, its territory likely switching hands between multiple nations, that is a staggeringly long lifespan. And for all those centuries, St. Purgatorio had stood by quietly, isolated, away from prying eyes, neither expanding nor dying out, simply existing.

Who was it that first set foot in the idle meadow between a forest and a mountain and decided to remain there for the rest of their days? As none of its inhabitants saw fit to record that fact, it is something no chronicler can ever set down upon the page now. It is a truth that only an immortal being could possibly remember.

- Notes on St. Purgatorio village, written by G. M. Ziggurat