As the early morning sunlight peeked over the horizon, gracing the lands around us, we looked at the old, worn out sign guarding the village's entrance from the direction of the forest. The chipped wood and faded paint clearly indicated that this path was not often frequented, at least not by any newcomers.

By us, I of course mean a sacrilegious band of strangers held together by a rickety, fragile truce. As I glanced at the profile of the priest, as tranquil as a meditating monk, I couldn't help but be amazed that my suggestion had been accepted. And then as I caught sight of the incensed nun behind him, I remembered that our foundation of trust could at any time be shattered by a well-timed spear to the face. I wanna go home.

“So this is your hometown,” Father Iscario addressed Rafi, heedless of my inner anguish. “Does a hamlet this small even have an inn for us to stay at?”

“Mm,” Rafi denied, shaking her head. “You can stay at my house.”

“Are you sure that’s all right?” I asked, to which she just nodded. I couldn’t imagine her parents happily welcoming a bunch of suspicious weirdos like us into their home, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“How can you really be sure of that, though?” Sister Rosalia asked indignantly. “Aren’t your memories confused, after all?”

It was a mean question, but while I aimlessly blubbered between them trying to figure out a way to smooth things over, Rafi just closed her eyes, as if thinking it over. And then a few moments later, she continued, her tone of voice as lacking in emotion as ever.

“It’s fine. They wouldn’t turn away people like you.”

“Hmph, really?” And so the exchange ended with a snort from Rosalia.

After silently watching over the proceedings, Father Iscario motioned for us to follow him, heading for the village. Nervously trailing behind them, I wondered just what truth might have been hiding in this unfamiliar place.

Earlier, in the abandoned shed.

“So? How do we proceed?” Father Iscario asked, looking at me for some reason. Wonder what’s up with that.

“―Eh? Wait, you’re asking me?

“Who else? You’re the one who came up with the idea, so it’s only right that you lead us, no?” His serene mask showed no hint of sarcasm.

“No, wait, how am I supposed to know what to do in this situation? I’ve never solved a murder before!”

“Come now, you say that like I have any more experience in this than you do,” the priest said, troubled.

“I-it’s not that out of place for a priest to moonlight as an amateur detective, is it? At least you go out and do fieldwork and such! I’ve just been collecting stamps and building ships in bottles, I’m not suited to this kind of―Wah!”

“Get your head in the game already, damn it!” A rough voice called out from behind, and I simultaneously felt my head being enveloped by a crushing pressure.

“Aaah! Unhand me, please! At least don’t be so rough! I’m made of soft tissue!” In a show of unexpected strength given her figure, Sister Rosalia was squeezing my head with her hand.

“Tch, even if I popped your head, it’d just grow right back. So there’s no problem for you, is there,” she spat as she swung my head around.

“It’s not fine! It is most definitely not fine!”

“Come now, Sister Rosalia, don’t bully our new companion too much―temporary though he may be.” You didn’t have to add that last part.

“Hmph,” she snorted in displeasure, though abiding by the command. “Anyway, what I wanted to say was this: instead of panicking, how about you consider the most obvious first step you should take?” And as she said that, she forcibly turned my head to the side.

“Ah.” What entered my sight was the girl that this entire incident revolved around: Rafi, who was currently crouching on the ground and intently watching the bugs crawling towards her blood.

That’s right! Shaking off Rosalia’s grip (which she’d probably loosened on purpose), I hurried over to the girl and crouched down next to her as she turned to me. Peering into her eyes, I addressed her as gently as I could.

“Um, if you wouldn’t mind, could… Could you tell me everything you remember from before you saw me? Everything that led up to this?”

No trace of distress on her face, she nodded lightly.

“I came here because my parents asked me to bring back some vegetables. We have some stored there,” she said, pointing to a crate at the back of the shed, near the pool of blood I’d found her in. Looking closer, I could also see a basket on the floor with some now-bloodied onions and potatoes scattered around it.

“Does your family own this shed?” Father Iscario asked.

Rafi shook her head. “It was built by Olga’s dad. We all use it.” She mentioned an unfamiliar name, probably that of another villager.

“I unlocked the door, I came in, and then… Then I locked the door, and then went to light the torch.” The room’s sole light source was a wooden torch, held right above the aforementioned crate of vegetables. If that thing fell to the ground somehow, it might light the entire shed on fire, though I guess whoever had set it up there held no such concerns.

“Do you still have the key to this shed on you?” I asked.

She briefly searched her dress pockets, and then took out a rusty old key attached to a string, showing it to me. I nodded.

“So you locked this room yourself? And right after entering? Why is that?” The priest asked suspiciously.

“...” She returned his gaze, but was seemingly unable to produce an adequate reply.

“M-maybe she’s just a particularly careful person,” I mumbled out in her defense.

“...” The priest looked unsatisfied, but for the moment said no more.

“After that, I just went to take the vegetables out, and then…”

“...Then?”

Rafi kept quiet. Though her face didn’t betray it, perhaps it was hard for her to say what came next. I didn’t try to rush her. We all watched her expectantly.

“...Then,” Rafi tilted her head, putting a finger to her cheek as if confused. “Then I saw you, Vio.”

“...Uh?” I couldn’t process her words for a second. The train of events failed to make any sense. “―Wait, what? You don’t remember anything else from before you blacked out? It could be anything, however small!”

“Hmm…” She crossed her arms and closed her eyes, as if straining to remember. “I think I heard some kind of clacking sound? That’s the last thing I can remember.”

“Could that be the sound of the door being opened, perhaps?” Father Iscario opined.

“So what, she got stabbed before she could even turn around?” Sister Rosalia asked.

“That sounds hard to believe. I mean, it’s just human instinct to turn around when you hear a sound behind you, right? How fast would someone have to be to stab her before she even managed that?”

“Well then what the hell happened here?” Sister Rosalia yelled in frustration, perhaps displeased at being rebutted by me.

“Hrmm.” Father Iscario put his fingers to his chin. “I’ve heard that there are cases of people losing their memories upon experiencing traumatic events. I’ve never seen a case like this myself, but I would presume being killed is quite the shock.”

So that’s what’s happening. Well, I could understand how an experience like this might mess anyone up. Still, I guess that meant we weren’t gonna solve this the easy way.

“Seriously!? What the hell do you remember then, girl?” Rosalia asked.

“Hmm? About what?”

“I dunno, anything in general?”

“Mm.” Rafi briefly considered the question. “Well, I remember that my name is Rafflesia Valpurga. I know I’ve lived in this village my whole life. I know Mom and Dad and Olga and everyone else. I remember how to read and write, and that we have to pray before bed every night, and that the mushrooms in the forest are poisonous, and―”

“Okay, fine, got it!” The nun sighed. “You’re a real odd one, you know that?”

“So it seems that her recollection of her identity and past is undamaged. That’s a relief, at least,” said Iscario.

Oh, that’s right. Speaking of her past… I didn’t have time to really think about it with everything that was going on, but I figured I should probably ask about that.

“Hey, Rafi. I… mentioned this earlier, but, well, when I drank your blood earlier, I saw some of your memories.”

“Hm?” She tilted her head.

“I didn’t mean to peek, really, it’s just an innate property of vampires! It’s not something I can prevent, so sorry about that. But…” I stopped. I didn’t understand the context of any of it, but given what I saw, I figured I had to be pretty delicate about how to approach this. “...You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. But… I saw some pretty horrible stuff. It seems like you’ve really been through a lot.”

“...” She stared at me in silence, and then, after a few moments, “...Mn?” She tilted her head again, this time in the other direction.

It really didn’t seem like she was trying to hide anything. I couldn’t see a speck of recognition on her face in regards to what I was saying. “I didn’t see much of what led up to it, but you were in a lot of pain, and starving… Honestly, it felt like being tortured. And then… you saw a horrific crime.” A human life trampled upon and disposed of. A hellish scene of brutality. I felt like a coward for not properly conveying the full atrocity of that memory, but I just couldn’t bring myself to give voice to it. As if properly describing it would be affirming that desecration of human life in some way.

Rafi didn’t immediately respond, putting her hands on her head as if trying to wring out any knowledge of what I was talking about, but she ultimately gave up, giving me an apologetic look. “...I’m sorry. I don’t remember any of what you said.”

“No,” I said. “You don’t have to apologize for that. If anything, I’m kind of glad you don’t have any horrible memories like this.” Then, I turned to the priest behind me and asked, “Hey, Father, I’m sure you’ve been taught all there is to know about vampires. Is there any possibility that these memories I saw were mistaken in some way?”

“Impossible,” he swiftly answered. “Viewing your prey’s memories like that is possible because of a temporary linkage of souls. It’s a magical process inscribed in every cell of your being. In this world without magic, nothing can ever defend against it anymore.”

“Don’t call her „prey’,” I grumbled. “But I see. So that’s how it is…” Then that means whatever I saw must have really happened to her. I thought the trauma of her almost dying would have only affected her most recent memories, but did it actually jumble up even more of her mind than expected? Or had she already forgotten those events long before as a form of coping with whatever ordeals she’d gone through? If so, I could at least be glad that my brash questions hadn’t provoked some kind of panic attack.

I honestly was glad that she didn’t have to remember something painful like that. But at the same time, I wanted to bring her closure, to find the person responsible for her suffering an inhuman fate like this and make them pay for it. Only then would she be brought to justice.

But would it even do her any good, when she’d been completely freed from it all? Wouldn’t it have been best for her to simply lead a peaceful life, since she’d miraculously gotten a second chance?

…No, regardless of whichever choice was best, there was no longer any chance of her living a normal life. I’d taken it away from her. I didn’t regret saving her, and I doubted I ever would, yet part of me couldn’t help but lament that fact.

Her remembering everything would have probably helped with our investigation immensely, but I didn’t have it in me to try probing her with more questions at this point. And it probably wouldn’t have borne any fruit anyway. Rather than stressing her out even more, it was probably best to let her mind rest and heal for a while.

Thump. “Ow!

“Don’t go contemplating shit on your own! You sitting there isn’t gonna help anything! What do you think you are, an armchair detective?” Sister Rosalia loudly complained, her iron fist raised in the air.

“Could you communicate your complaints without punching me in the head, please!?”

“But it’s the perfect height for it!”

“That hardly seems relevant!”

Rafi gave us a sidelong glance as she idly sat by, while the priest looked on in exasperation.

“Ahem.” Father Iscario audibly cleared his throat, calling our attention. “This memory issue is troubling enough on its own, but it obfuscates the real issue, which I’m sure both of you have noticed by now.”

“...” I shared a brief look at the nun, before we both sent our gazes back to the priest. He sighed, continuing his smooth explanation.

“Miss Rafflesia locked the door herself, right after entering. It’s not exactly a course of action I understand, but I can put that aside for now. However, it spawns a very clear contradiction, don’t you think? Until you broke into this shed with your bat, the door was locked. And the only one present here was the victim. So how exactly could the killer have entered?”

Both mine and Sister Rosalia’s eyes widened in realization. A murder and a locked door. In other words―

“―This case is what they call a locked room murder.” The priest declared it so with a faint smile, before turning to Rafi. “Is that key the only one for this shed?”

She quietly shook her head. “We aren’t the only family using it.”

“Therefore, if Miss Rafflesia’s testimony is to be believed, and this shed truly was locked before she arrived, then the culprit could only have been someone who had a spare key themselves. Either that, or―”

“Or there’s some other method of getting inside of this place without opening the door,” continued Sister Rosalia. “If that’s the case, then we ought to search this room, right?”

“That seems like a wise course of action,” Father Iscario said.

“...All right.”

Even though nothing about this felt right, going along with the flow was the best I could manage. My eyes wandered over to Rafi for a moment, who looked as placid as ever. I wanted to know what emotions laid behind that tranquil expression, but I couldn’t see inside her heart. For a vampire who’d just looked inside her mind, it was a truly selfish grievance.

We searched the grimy shed for a while, but found nothing of note. For how small of a space it was, it felt awfully empty. There were a few crates and barrels in the corners and along the walls, including the one holding the Valpurga family’s vegetables, but the room was clearly not filled to capacity. And even the containers that were there were either close to empty or just filled with random junk that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The walls were plain, without any shelves of any kind, the only fixture being the metallic torch holder.

“Hey, these walls aren’t exactly sturdy, are they? Plenty of gaps between the planks too,” Sister Rosalia brought up.

“That’s true…” The wood seemed weathered and not especially resistant to the elements. There were a few gaps, like the one Morry had snuck in from, that looked like they could fit the murder weapon, and a few could even fit a fist holding onto it.

“Certainly none in any beneficial position, though. Did you get close to any of the walls, Miss Rafflesia?”

“No… I just walked straight towards the crate in the back.”

“Not like the bastard could have thrown it in.”

While knocking on one of the wall planks, I idly mumbled out “Could they have… removed one of these from the outside?”

“Go in through the wall, huh? I can’t see them being able to nail it back in place very easily. It’d probably be half an hour’s work at least,” the priest said.

“Why bother doing something as stupid as that anyway?” asked Rosalia. “If they have the key then entering the shed shouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” It had been a ridiculous idea to begin with.

I focused my attention on the floor. It was also pretty dirty, full of dust and blackish grime, enough that I’d have to wipe my shoes after leaving this place. That wasn’t even counting the puddle of blood atop the wood. But we found nothing that looked like it’d been left by the culprit, aside from the stake itself.

“Is there any space beneath the floorboards? Could the culprit have hidden there?” suddenly asked the priest.

“What, you think he’s still here!? We’d have heard him breathe or something,” said Rosalia, slightly worked up. Perhaps the idea freaked her out.

“No, that doesn’t work,” I said, kneeling down with my eye to one of the gaps beneath the floorboards. “The ground is pretty much directly under this thing.”

“Meaning,” Iscario said, putting his hand to his chin, “that this crime really could only have been committed by someone who held the key. They would have had to unlock the door behind Rafi, stab her, and then lock the door again on their way out.”

“But why the hell lock it again? No one would have known that she’d locked it to begin with if she’d really died. So locking the door on the way out is just narrowing the pool of suspects to those who have the key.”

He had no answer for the nun’s very reasonable question. I certainly couldn’t come up with any myself. I just powerlessly looked around the room once more, my desire to uncover some clue dwarfed by my instinctual want to leave this musty, iron-smelling prison.

By the time we concluded our inspection, the light of dawn was already peeking through the tall trees of the forest. Incidentally, it seemed that Rafi and her family were quite the early birds, as they’d woken up long before sunrise, which is why she’d come to the shed not too long before I arrived. The more I thought about it the more of a miracle it seemed that I’d managed to find her still alive.

Regardless, we decided to finally hit the town. Before we left, though, the priest stepped back into the storehouse and left behind a small jewel, hiding it within one of the wooden crates.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“A ward,” he explained. “A simple precaution. If anyone enters this place, I will know.”

The church sure had a lot of handy knick-knacks. You’d think they’d be a bit more sparing in using them, considering new artifacts could never be made again now that Magic could no longer be used. They were probably worth a whole lot too.

With that done, the plan was to rest for a while at Rafi’s house and then continue the investigation by looking into all the villagers. It didn’t seem like too tall of a task, given that St. Purgatorio village apparently only had a population of about seventy people―really, it was more of a hamlet, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing it on a map before.

We continued past the sign welcoming us into the village, leaving the forest behind. The entrance to the village was surrounded by farmland, though we could see houses clustered together in the distance. The sun was getting brighter by the second.

“I presume you’re unharmed by sunlight,” Iscario asked.

“It gives me a nasty rash, but I can deal with it.” The sun is generally harmful to vampires, though the extent of the damage really depends on the individual. I heard that stronger vampires are affected more by it, but while I couldn’t exactly enjoy a day out on the beach, I was more or less fine with it.

“I see. What about her though?”

“Ah.” He was pointing to Rafi, who was walking behind us, covered by the priest’s tall shadow. “Crap, I forgot about that!”

I hurriedly took my jacket off and covered her head with it, prompting a startled “Hweh?” from her.

“Sorry, I don’t know how much this is gonna help, but you should probably avoid the sunlight. I don’t know how you’ll react to it, but I don’t want you bursting into flames or something.”

“Hey, why not try it out? She’d be fine anyway. Can’t hurt to test her new body’s limits, right?” Sister Rosalia said that offhandedly.

“I’m sure after all that’s happened the last thing she wants is to be a guinea pig right now. Right, Rafi?” I said, crossing my arms at the nun.

But Rafi just tilted her head beneath the jacket and then answered with a muffled voice, “Hmm… If you really want to, I can...”

“What!? Don’t just agree to that!” I yelled.

“Oh, okay…”

Looking back at the two of us, Rosalia shrugged her shoulders and sighed, “With a personality like that, I’m surprised you didn’t fall for a conman way before a murderer.”

As I thought about how to dissuade that gullibility of Rafi’s, I noticed Iscario stopping in his tracks. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, instead seemingly looking somewhere off to the side. And then, I noticed a sound coming from somewhere nearby, like something hitting the ground. Following the priest’s line of sight, I saw a human figure out on the farmland, using a hoe to till the soil.

“Hmm?” It was the first person we’d come across since entering the town, but for some reason, even squinting my eyes, I couldn’t make out what they looked like at all.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Oh. That must be old man Bolo,” Rafi said, not elaborating any further. Even though we were all looking directly at him, 'old man Bolo’ just continued working the earth, seemingly not noticing us at all.

“S-should we approach him? We’re gonna have to talk to everyone anyway, right?”

“I don’t see why not,” Iscario approved.

We all got off the main road to approach him, careful not to step on any of the crops. The man still didn’t pay us any mind. As we got closer, I finally realized why I hadn’t been able to make out any details about him―The man was wrapped from head to toe in black bandages, atop which he wore dark tattered clothes. Looked upon from a distance, his strange appearance gave the impression of a charred corpse.

When we finally got close enough, I looked at everyone around. However, Rosalia faced away from me, while Iscario held his eyes shut in contemplation. And Rafi stared back blankly, clearly not picking up on my intent. Of course… None of them are any help!

Gulping, I mustered up the courage to call out to the old man. “Um, h- hello there!”

“Ahn?” Finally aware of our presence, he turned his face towards us, sunken eyes peeking through the bandages on his face. “Whuh? Who’re ye’all? Outsiders?” His somewhat slurred speech was hard to understand. “O-oh, yes, but Raf―Rafflesia is here with us!”

“Mm? Ah, young Rafflesia? Didn’t notice ya there, kee-hee-hee!” Rafi lightly bowed her head at the cackling old man. “Good, good. Makin’ new friends, 's a good thing, I tell ya. Yer always by yerself, was makin’ me worry, kee-hee-hee! Oh, m’name’s Bolo, Bolo Bolobo. Good ta make yer acquaintance, kee-hee-hee-hee!”

“R-Right,” I stammered, trying to interrupt his dissonant laughter. “Uhh, I’m…”

“Rupert, m’son, lookit that young’un behind you, see how tall he is? Ye should eat more meat, ye should, get as tall as’im! Kee-hee-hee!”

“W-what?”

“Mr. Bolobo, Mr. Rupert died five years ago…” Rafi interjected with that quiet yet worrying statement, though I’m not sure if the old man had ever heard it through his own cackling.

“...Um, anyway, if you wouldn’t mind, could I ask you some quest―” I tried my best to get the conversation back on some kind of track, but Bolo Bolobo suddenly cut his laughter short, fixating on something. It didn’t seem like he was any more inclined to listen to me though, as he stared somewhere behind me. Confused, I looked back, but all that greeted me was the priest standing there in silence, the nun a few feet further away. The rays of sunlight made the Luminary hanging from his neck, the symbol of the Heliocentric Church, glint powerfully…

Thud. Turning around at the sudden noise, I saw the old man down on his knees, heedless of the dirt staining his pants, clasping his palms together, tears spewing from his dull eyes. “Aah, aaah, a guide!” His hoarse voice was trembling with emotion. “I thought ye’d forsaken us! Ta think ye’d grace such unforgivable sinners with your presence again!” The old man wailed.

I couldn’t understand it. There was no transition, no sign in our conversation that would have hinted at this. It was like his demeanor had flipped without notice.

Wordlessly, Father Iscario walked forward towards the crying elder, bumping into me in the process, causing me to stagger backward for a second. And then, stopping just a few centimeters in front of him, the priest slowly knelt down, dirtying his cassock in the process. He gently put his hand on the man’s shoulder, and, with a kind smile on his face, softly declared, “Please, dry your tears. Stand up.

“I am neither a guide nor a messenger, but a mere servant. I’m no different than you. Whether a saint or a sinner, the Sun’s light shines just as brightly on us all.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” With Father Iscario by his side, Old man Bolo… Bolo Bolobo kept on weeping under the morning sun, his shadow stretching along the farmland. I could do nothing but watch on in stunned silence.

Continuing on unpaved the main road towards Rafi’s house, I couldn’t push down the desire to ask.

“Say, Rafi, that old man… Is he okay?”

She tilted her head at my vague question. “...Well, he can’t see very well.”

“...Right.” I swallowed the rest of my words.

I couldn’t help looking at Father Iscario, walking quietly yet resolutely in front of me.

Once we reached the cluster of houses that was the village proper, we relied on Rafi to lead the way. And before long, we reached the front of her home, a two-story wooden house with a small perimeter. Aside from the old man from earlier, we never ended up seeing anyone else out and about, though I could feel eyes on us from the many houses around, which didn’t feel very reassuring.

“It’s here,” Rafi said, casually walking up to the entrance.

“Ah, wait!” I said, stopping her from opening the door. “Don’t just go in, we need to think of how to explain this to your parents first!”

“Mm? Explain?”

“You know, the fact that you’re bringing home a bunch of strangers and that both of us are covered in blood!”

“...?” Rafi put a finger to her cheek and thought for a moment. “„I got stabbed and this boy bit my neck and now these church people want to know who stabbed me so that they can then stab us themselves.’ Does that work?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Sounds clear and concise to me,” Rosalia said.

“Please be quiet!” I yelled that to her, then turned back to Rafi, “We absolutely can’t tell your parents what really happened, okay? Don’t let them know you’re a vampire either! For now, we just have to think of some other justification.”

“Mm.” Rafi closed her eyes, nodding to herself. “Okay. I have an idea.”

After saying that, she turned around to open the door.

“Wait, wait, are you really sure you’ve got this?”

Looking back at me, her face as blank as usual, she gave me a wordless thumbs up. Oh boy, I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I? Giving me no room to voice my misgivings, she finally opened the door and, stepping inside, called out,

“Mom, I’m back!”

After sharing a look amongst one another, the rest of us also got closer to the entrance, looking into the hallway beyond Rafi but not stepping in just yet.

And a few moments later, a skinny middle aged woman popped her head out from behind the corner, her hair in a bun. “Ah, Raff, you’re finally back―” she began, before noticing her daughter’s appearance. “Oh, dear, is that blood on your clothes? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just tripped,” Rafi said with a straight face. That was your ‘idea’!? There’s no way she’ll buy that!

“I see, I see. Is the young man back there fine, though? He’s also covered in blood,” Rafi’s mom said, sending me a look of concern. Wait, did she actually believe it!?

“Don’t worry, that’s just my blood,” Rafi clarified. How is she supposed to not worry hearing that!?

“...” Rafi’s mom continued staring at us with narrowed eyes for a few moments. I gave her my best attempt at a smile, beads of sweat rolling down my face. A few moments later, however, her expression turned into a sunny smile of her own. “Well, come on in, don’t just stand out there!”

“...Right, thank you,” I said, bowing my head and stepping inside. Mother and daughter are both pretty off-kilter, I guess… And as I crouched down to take my shoes off, I heard a gasp leak out from the woman’s mouth. Raising my head towards her, I saw her staring wide-eyed, her hand to her mouth. And then, feeling a sense of deja-vu, I turned back to see the priest and nun standing in full view behind me.

“My, I didn’t realize you brought a holy man with you, Raff! I’m terribly sorry for not greeting you properly! Oh, and look at me, making you stand out there, please come in! My, my, I have to whip up a feast!”

Facing the anxiously rambling woman with a gentle smile, Iscario said, “Please, don’t feel like you must treat us any differently than you would anyone else. We are most grateful for your hospitality.”

“Oh, you’re far too kind, Father…”

“Iscario. Iscario T. Rosenkranz. At your service.” The man introduced himself, still towering over the woman even as he bowed. “And you are?”

“Oh geez, I forgot to introduce myself! I really am scattered today,” Rafi’s mom said, pressing her hand to her temple in consternation, before correcting her posture and facing us with a smile. “I’m Sapria Valpurga. Go ahead and make yourselves at home.”

Rosalia and I also introduced ourselves (the former being a lot more polite to Sapria than I’d ever seen her up to that point). As we walked further into the entrance hall, Sapria called out to Rafi.

“By the way, dear, did you bring over the vegetables from the storehouse?”

“Ah.” The daughter froze, though it was difficult to tell the difference between that and her usual expression. Amid all that chaos, it’s inevitable she’d have forgotten about something like that.

“Oh Raff, do you get that forgetfulness from me, I wonder? I hope you at least remembered to lock the door like I told you. Thieves might show up again otherwise.”

“Yes, it’s locked,” Rafi replied.

“Thieves?” I asked. “People from the village?”

“Ah, no, that shed is outside the village, and it used to not have a lock, so one time some outsiders broke in. There wasn’t much to take, but after they left the door open some wild animals ransacked the place.” Hmm, so that was why it was so empty now? I guess most people wouldn’t have found it safe enough to use it after that. “But it was he who instructed us to put a lock on the door after that. We can’t disobey his guidance, you know―”

Sapria’s words suddenly cutting off there, she turned to look into her daughter’s eyes. Rafi was staring back at her mother, her face no different than usual. After a few moments of silence, Sapria spoke again.

“...Nevermind. But what are we gonna do about lunch? The pantry’s empty, you know,” she said, eyes downcast.

“No need to worry about that, dear!” Suddenly, a booming voice echoed from behind us. Turning around, we saw an unfamiliar man carrying a large cloth bag in his hands. He was tall, though not as tall as Iscario, his slim yet toned arms visible beneath his short sleeved vest. A bulky crossbow was slung across his back, alongside a backpack. His bright blue eyes were like replicas of Rafi’s.

“Dad.”

“Hi there, my daughter. Seems like you frolicked around a bit too much, huh? Gahahahaha!” Their personalities sure are polar opposites, for being father and daughter, I thought. He certainly seemed unfazed to see his child covered in blood. But then again, I suppose he could intuit that she hadn’t been seriously injured. “More to the point, here ya go!”

The man presented the bag he was carrying, opening it up to reveal numerous fresh vegetables and even cuts of meat. “Oh, how delightful!” Her eyes glittering, Sapria snatched the bag and ran off with it to the kitchen, dragging it across the floor with her thin arms with surprising ferocity.

“Gahaha, forgive my wife, will you? She sometimes gets overly excited like that,” Rafi’s dad said, turning to Iscario and offering a handshake.

“Name’s Rhizanthes. Nice to meet you, Father.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for. It’s wonderful to see such lively people,” the priest said, returning the handshake and giving his name. Rosalia also introduced herself with a bow, her face awfully solemn. And just as I was starting to feel left out, the man―Rhizanthes thrust out his right hand towards me with a smile.

“Ah, nice to meet you! My name is Vio Vaaaaaaagh―” After I timidly grasped his hand and started introducing myself, the man began shaking his arm―and me along with it―vigorously.

“Gahahaha, what’s with that soft handshake? You’re a man, aren’t you? Be more firm!”

“R-right, I’ll do my best!” I said, still being shaken about and desperately trying to keep my glasses on.

After a few seconds of that, Rhizanthes walked further into his home, still laughing boisterously and inviting us to come along with him. As I tried to get my bearings, the man turned his face to us once more, adding, “Hope you enjoy your time here in St. Purgatorio―and may the Sun’s light bless you.” And with that, he left the corridor and disappeared around the corner.

As Iscario and Rosalia followed him, I stayed behind for a moment, letting his words ring out in my mind. What a merciless blessing it is.

After being led into the tiny parlor, I apologetically asked Rafi’s parents for a temporary change of clothes―I couldn’t exactly afford to walk around covered in blood forever, and while other vampires could apparently manipulate their own clothes freely, I had no such convenient ability.

The exceedingly welcoming Sapria not only readily agreed, but also offered to wash my clothes herself. I tried dissuading her at first, but eventually gave in to her kindness―things were supposed to be going smoothly.

No, I mean, I really was grateful for her help and all, but―

“U-um, excuse me, don’t you have anything else I can wear?” I asked, doing my best to control my quivering voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we have any other clothes that would fit you. My husband’s certainly wouldn’t,” Sapria said in a troubled tone of voice.

“Riiight… I guess that’s to be expected…” I said, my head hung low in despair. As for the reason: while my clothes were to be washed, I was stuck wearing a silky white nightgown―one belonging to Rafi, to be exact.

I suppose it couldn’t be helped. I was about the same height as her, and really, my physique was such that most adolescent boys towered over me, so I didn’t exactly have much choice, but it didn’t make the situation any less embarrassing. I was rarely jealous of more powerful vampires, but this was certainly one such case.

Father Iscario was standing with his back to the wall next to Rhizanthes, cup of tea in his hand, watching me amusedly.

“Grr.” Something about his ever-content smile peeved me. “Having fun watching me suffer, Father?”

“Perish the thought,” he quickly denied, not perturbed in the least. “I would never rejoice at another’s suffering. For what is life if not a series of trials we must overcome?”

“I don’t really see you struggling all that much though.”

“Being prepared for the tough roads ahead is just another virtue,” he said, tapping the surface of a bag he’d apparently been carrying with him the whole time.

And just whose fault is it that I didn’t have the time to leisurely pack my stuff before leaving!?

Seeing my overt shame, Sapria offered to go ask one of the other townspeople for something else I could wear. I belatedly realized I shouldn’t be making the woman feel bad after she’d gone out of her way to help me, so I declined the offer with a smile. I was the older one here anyway, I couldn’t act immature―well, not that she knew about that.

With that settled, I approached Rafi, who was kneeling in front of a wooden tub of water in a corner of the room, and called out to her. “Sorry for whining like that. I’m sure it’s not pleasant for you either, having a guy like me wear your clothes.”

“I don’t mind,” she said plainly, not facing my way.

“Is that so?”

“I think you look good in it.”

“Err, thanks, but that doesn’t really make me feel better.”

“Really? But I think you look better in it than me, Vio.”

“No, really, you really don’t have to say that…”

Letting the conversation trail off, I turned my attention to the container beneath her. She was washing the bloodstains from the dress she’d been stabbed in. She’d have to sew the portion that was torn open, too. I didn’t have much experience cleaning blood stains, but it didn’t look easy.

“Hmm.” Looking at the much more plain outfit that she’d changed into, I realized that she’d been dressed surprisingly fancily for a village girl, especially compared to her parents. “That’s quite the pretty dress,” I said. “Looks like something you’d see out in the city.”

“Mm,” she muttered. “It’s a special gift. I have to take care of it.”

“I see.” I smiled, not prying any further. Gifts, huh? I thought I’d been taking care of all the things I’d received over the years, but looking at her diligently scrubbing that dress, I realized I might not have really paid them that much mind after all. I figured there’d always be another chance to say my thanks directly. All the way until there wasn’t.

I turned away from her, looking for a place to sit down and eventually settling for a wooden chair next to the dinner table, though the hard surface wasn’t what I’d call comfortable. A few feet away, the Valpurga couple watched the priest with glowing eyes as they listened to him talk, much like a pack of churchgoers enraptured by a sermon.

Sighing, I averted my eyes, and inadvertently noticed Sister Rosalia silently standing in a corner. Come to think of it, she’d barely said a word since we entered Rafi’s home. Maybe she wasn’t good at dealing with this kind of atmosphere. But when she’s not yelling or scowling, I guess even she can look like a regular nun. Idle thoughts like that crossing my mind, I relaxed my body and soul in the Valpurga family’s home.

After that, we all shared a modest breakfast―or maybe closer to a brunch. Sapria’s cooking was unsophisticated and somewhat lacking in flavor, but I enjoyed it nonetheless―truth be told, I’d have probably found any edible dish delicious by that point.

I tried sprinkling in some light questioning when I could, while trying not to give anything away―though in that regard, the couple’s laidback attitude was helpful, as they didn’t seem at all interested in asking about any specifics.

“This morning, when you sent Rafi to the storehouse, would anyone else aside from you two have known about her going there?”

“Hmm? I suppose not? Though anyone could have seen her going to the town’s exit.”

The Valpurga residence was located around the middle of the village, so she had to have passed quite a few other homes before making it to the path leading out to the forest.

“Does this village happen to have any hunters?” Iscario asked.

“'Course. You’re talking to one,” Rhizanthes said with a grin, pointing at his own face with his thumb.

“Ah, is that so? Then that means you should have access to this village’s stockpile of armaments.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s a funny way of puttin’ it. The storehouse ain’t locked or anythin’. It’s just a few blocks down, in the direction of the village’s southern entrance. We all just leave our stuff there for convenience.” That was the way we’d come from, so we must have unknowingly passed it on our way here.

“Isn’t it a problem if just anyone can take your weapons,” I asked.

“Hmm? Why? Hasn’t been any problem so far.”

I guess with a village this small there’s not much need to worry about security or anything. The town I lived in wasn’t particularly bustling or anything, but even we took some precautions against criminals. But in a community as small as this one that probably wasn’t on anyone’s mind.

“Then,” Iscario continued, “Do you happen to have anything like this in your stockpile?” As he said that, he took out a small silver stake from within his bag and showed it to Rhizanthes. I believe he’d called it a Sealing Sacrament before? It was the same kind of weapon that had been used to stab Rafi. I was a bit worried about how this kind of question would come across, but nonetheless I looked on in anticipation of an answer.

Rhizanthes craned his neck to look closer at the stake. As I viewed his face in profile, I felt like an expression of grief crossed his features for just a brief instant, though it disappeared quickly enough that I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t just seeing things. And then he said, “This is a church implement of some kind, ain’t it? I’m sorry, but this isn’t really my area of expertise, y’see, Father. At the very least, I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen it before.”

“That’s all right, thank you,” Iscario said, putting the stake away.

We didn’t manage to get much else of note out of the two. Sister Rosalia never broke her silence for the entire meal.

After we ate, Sapria showed us to the rooms we could use to sleep. Well, as it turns out, their home didn’t really come prepared with guestrooms, so I would have to sleep in Rafi’s room while the nun and the priest would sleep in the couple’s room for the time being. Rafi said she didn’t feel tired at all, so it was good enough for a temporary arrangement.

I was somewhat reluctant to sleep in a teenage girl’s bed, but my exhaustion overwhelmed any such apprehensions. Sleep wasn’t physically necessary for vampires, but it was still a psychological need without which we’d lose our minds. Perhaps no sentient creature could remain conscious forever without going crazy. In practice, the older a vampire got, the longer they slept, usually.

But before I could conk out, Rafi asked me to wait for her to clean up her room a bit. I told her she didn’t have to, but she insisted. I probably wouldn’t have wanted someone to go into my room without me getting the chance to tidy up either, so I obliged. So I was currently waiting in the hallway outside, absentmindedly playing with Morry. Rafi’s parents had gone downstairs, so there was probably no need to worry about them seeing him, though truth be told my tired brain just couldn’t keep up the precautions anymore.

“So that’s the only power you have? Talk about pathetic!” That rude tone could only belong to one person. And sure enough, when I turned to look at the voice, I saw Sister Rosalia, still wearing her habit but having taken off her headpiece.

Giving her scowling face a faint smile, I said, “Shouldn’t that be a good thing in your eyes? The closer I am to a human the better, right?”

“Hah! Whether you’re a monstrous freak or a loser freak, it doesn’t change that you’re a freak,” the nun said, smirking.

“Hmm. Well, you’re not wrong there,” I acquiesced, shrugging. “You seem spirited enough though. I’m glad about that. You were awfully quiet during the meal, so I was worried.”

“Huh? The hell are you on about? I don’t need your worry!”

“Maybe not, but I have the freedom to worry about it anyway,” I said, shrugging lightly.

“Tch―!” The vein pulsating on her forehead seemingly close to popping, she gritted her teeth and took a step forward towards me. And then―

“W-woah!”

―Suddenly, she pulled out her spear from God-knows-where and pointed it straight at my forehead, stopping it just a few centimeters from me. The surprise caused me to stagger backwards, almost toppling me over, though I managed to regain my balance before that could happen.

“Let me set things straight. The only reason why you haven’t been chopped into a hundred pieces and stuffed into a coffin is because Father Iscario ordained it to be so. But I have no intentions of palling around with you or joining in on your comedy routine. Once this case is over, you’re dead.” Rosalia delivered this declaration in an icy tone, her viciously glinting eyes boring into me.

“...” I was momentarily left speechless, but as a bitter smile crossed my lips I couldn’t help but ask. “...Say, why exactly do you hate me―hate vampires, so much?”

“Hah! Now there’s a fun question!” Her face once again twisting into a derisive smirk, Sister Rosalia answered readily. “It’s because you’re filthy cowards, that’s why.”

“...” The silver blade still glinting in front of my eyes, I gave her a questioning look.

“Not catching my drift, huh?” Her anger seemed to have entirely given way to sadistic glee as she continued. “Y’know, before we attacked you, we looked into you a bit. So I know the gist of your situation.

“You just lost the last of the people you spent your entire life with. You were so desperate not to be left alone that you even tried turning „em into a vampire, which is what led us to you.” Having said this much, she once again fixed me with an intense glare. “Say, what the hell are you still alive for? Wasn’t that your cue to die? But even though the people who loved you are no more, even though you have nothing left, you still hang onto life, you damn cockroach! The gall! Is there anything else to call that but cowardice? You’re all wimps who can’t bring themselves to go when their time’s come.” Rosalia pulled her weapon back from me and deftly spun it around before hiding it away somewhere. Then, turning her back to me, she craned her head towards me and added, “That is why I hate you.”

I hung my head. As much as I wanted to condemn her as an irrational killer, to pity myself as the victim of a cruel fate, her words just squirmed their way through my mind, through the deepest crevices of doubt.

It was true. By any ordinary human standards, I had led a full life. I couldn’t claim I’d have no regrets if I died, but then, who could? But I’d seen the world, I’d had my fun, I spent as much time as I could with my closest ones―it was the kind of life no one could complain about. Yet, having found myself at the end of that life, having lost the people whom I’d loved and who had loved me, I still wasn’t satisfied. I still felt like I wanted to live, like there was more for me to see and do in this world. Was that the fear of death at work, which Rosalia had accused me of? Or was I boundlessly greedy, unhappy with the share every other person got? Either way, having considered myself human in all but name for my entire life, I couldn’t deny my shame at these feelings of mine.

Perhaps it was because she’d managed to get at something in me that I felt the need to take some sort of revenge on her. I called out to Rosalia’s retreating back.

“Hey, let me make a guess, would you? Your hatred feels awfully personal. So how about this hypothesis: You lost one of your loved ones to a vampire. Maybe it was a parent or a sibling, I’ve no way of knowing. But isn’t that actually why you despise us so much? Just pushing all of your resentment onto our kind isn’t exactly mature, you know.”

She stopped in her tracks, keeping silent for a moment. Just as I began to regret my outburst, Rosalia turned her head to me once more, flashing me a wicked grin. “Is that your attempt at provocation? Good, that suits us way better than your bullshit sympathy earlier, keep it that way.” She shrugged her shoulders casually. “My sister was killed by a vampire, it’s true. But I hold no grudges over it. She died in the line of duty―for people like us, there’s nothing better to hope for. And you know, hating all vampires for a reason like that would be stupid. I wouldn’t have turned into a mass murderer if a human had offed her, I’ll tell you that much.” Resting her right palm on the back of her head, she stifled a yawn with her left. Turning away from me, she left me with one last frank declaration. “I just find your existence disgusting. That’s all there is to it. See ya.” And with that, Sister Rosalia left me behind, going to her own room.

“Sigh. There’s just no getting along with some people, is there, Morry?” Morry just squeaked delightedly as I rubbed his dark body with my finger, ignorant of our petty human struggles. Then again, I thought. Perhaps this ignorance, too, was one I’d projected onto him.

“You’ve given it a name, have you? How peculiar, indeed.”

Snapped out of my reverie, I quickly turned to the source of the voice: as if swapping places with Rosalia, Father Iscario appeared, his usual priest’s garb removed in favor of a comfortable black sweater.

“Sorry to startle you. Seems like Rosalia has given you quite the hard time as well,” the priest said with a gentle smile.

“...Not at all.” I couldn’t let my guard down around either of them, but as far as their usual intensity went, it seemed clear that he was preferable to the nun.

“But returning to my previous question, a vampire naming their familiars is certainly an odd sight.”

“I can see why. Other vampires can transform into a giant flock of bats, can’t they? Seems tough to keep track of all of them. I don’t have to worry about that though, haha.”

“More than that, they are not individual living creatures at all.” Iscario directed his gaze at Morry, who was currently flying haphazardly in front of me, as if trying to protect me. “That bat is no less a part of you than your fingers or toes. It doesn’t have any sentience beyond that which you impose upon it.”

“Heh, you’re the expert, so you must be right about that,” I said, rubbing the back of Morry’s neck with my finger. “But even if it’s just for my own self-satisfaction, I can’t help but think of this guy as a friend. We’ve been through a lot together, after all.”

“Hmm.” Iscario seemed to contemplate my statement. “Well, however you choose to think of it is up to you. Though I believe that cognition itself may be part of the reason why you cannot manifest many of the abilities other vampires can.”

“Guess I have a pretty troublesome personality for a vampire,” I said, chuckling. “Probably too late to change it by now though.”

“...Have you ever asked yourself why so many vampires can turn into or manifest bats?” the priest suddenly asked.

“Hm?” Putting my finger to my cheek, I considered the question. “Huh. I’ve never really thought about it. I always just chalked it up to one of our many inexplicable abilities.”

“There is an abundance of vampires whose powers are in some way related to bats. But there are also other types. Some can turn into crows, for instance, or cormorants. Some can even turn into creatures that don’t exist in our biological order at all. And,” adding with an amused note, “I’ve encountered at least one vampire that could turn into a swarm of kittens.” Now that was one heck of a mental image. It must have really wrecked the tension of whatever confrontation they were having.

“So then, the question is,” continues Iscario, “is this preponderance of bats due to some kind of quirk in your biology which makes you closer to them in some way? That’s one of the principal theories, but there is also another which I happen to subscribe to.” Spreading his arms, the priest delivered his explanation in the ceremonial tone of a preacher. “It’s because that is the popular perception of vampires. When people think of vampires, the image of bats is one that naturally floats into the mind. That association is one so widespread that it affects even vampires themselves. Because they subconsciously believe that vampires and bats are related, their powers manifest in the form of bats. In other words, the rumors and stories that circulate about your kind have shaped you just as much as you have shaped them, if not more. Of course, that extends not just to the prevalence of bats, but also other common traits. The weakness to sunlight that most vampires share seems to be a physical reaction of some sort, but other features, such as that of some vampires not appearing in mirrors, appear to be of an entirely psychological origin. A fascinating phenomenon, isn’t it?”

“S-sure is.” I found it hard to follow up on his impassioned speech, despite it being indirectly about me. “But I didn’t know our subconscious mind affected our powers that much. I thought it was mostly just up to luck.” “Well now, that’s no wonder, is it?” The priest said, amused. “After all, you’ve never even met another vampire before, have you?”

“E-eh?” I stammered at his abrupt non-sequitur of a question.

“Am I wrong?”

“W-well, I just like to avoid troublemakers, you see?” I said, laughing bashfully. I didn’t know why I was trying to make excuses for myself, but it felt like I’d somehow been exposed as a fraud or something.

“I don’t know your past beyond what we’ve been able to piece together from circumstantial evidence surrounding you and your family, but I’d wager that you were raised entirely by humans. In other words, you’re in a pretty unique position, as far as vampires go. Your only knowledge of your kind comes from rumors and urban legends, no different than the average human citizen.”

“I suppose so, yeah,” I said, scratching my cheek.

“Hm. And it’s precisely because of that ignorance that you fail to understand exactly what an extraordinary feat you’ve accomplished, you see.”

“Huh?” I didn’t understand what he was getting at. Me, performing an extraordinary feat? Now that was something that was hard to imagine. Watching me with amusement in his eyes, Father Iscario spoke. “Very few traits are common among all vampires, so much so that it is often difficult to believe that they all belong to the same race. But one thing is true, above all else―the ability to turn a human into a vampire is one that close to none have.”

“―Huh?”

“Regardless of how powerful or old they are, very few vampires are capable of turning humans. And even among those who do, it is often the case that they only ever manage to turn one human over the course of their entire lifespan.”

“W-what?” That couldn’t be right. Vampires were always spoken about as demons that would feast on human blood and turn their prey into slaves. Of course, I knew that rumor was off-base, but I figured it couldn’t have been that wrong if it was such a widespread image.

“Heh. Very few humans will ever encounter a vampire in their life, you know? Despite that, these monsters are an ever-popular topic of discussion. Under such circumstances, it’s no wonder that fiction would wind up overtaking fact.”

If I’d been calmer, I might have shot back that the church could correct those wrongful impressions if they just made their knowledge publicly available, but in the moment I was struck by something entirely different. What? Me? I’m one of the special few? No way! I’m just a small fry who can only survive by hiding! There’s no way I have some kind of special ability like that!

“B-but,” I stammered, desperately trying to keep my racing mind under control, “if that’s true, if I really am that special, then… then why did you agree to my deal? You only agreed because I’m weak, didn’t you? Because you could take me out at any time! If I have an ability this rare, how could you trust that fact?”

“Because,” the priest said calmly, evenly, in contrast to my quivering voice, “beyond anything related to your abilities, there’s something I understand about you beyond a shadow of a doubt, Vio Valakia―

“―You’re normal. A perfectly ordinary citizen, governed by perfectly ordinary common sense. And that is all I need to know.” His thin smile never wavered, and through the narrow opening beneath his eyelids I could see his controlling, appraising gaze.

“You…” I mumbled hesitatingly, trying to get out the question which had been plaguing me. “You don’t look at me like a monster. You can tell that I’m no different from a human.

“―So why? Why are you so intent on exterminating me?”

“I have no interest in pretending you are something that you’re not,” the priest replied bluntly. “I won’t deny that you can think and feel like humans do. Especially young vampires such as you.”

“Then why―”

“However, what you are, I―we cannot allow to exist in this world. I won’t let an immortal creature defile this earth, whatever it may be. That’s all there is to it.”

That’s all there was to it.

Leaving me without words, the priest wished me a restful sleep before vanishing into his own room. Alone again in the hallway, I felt like I’d just been punched in the face.

“Vio. I’m done.” And a short while later, Rafi came out of her room, letting me come in. I thanked her for her hard work, though more than ever before that day, I felt so out of it that I just wanted to immediately collapse into bed. Projected upon the back of my eyelids, I could see Sister Rosalia and Father Iscario’s eyes still firmly upon me.

As I laid upon the bed, before my world faded into darkness, I took note of one thing.

“This room… It’s so empty…”