My heart felt heavy.
After all, I’d once been an ordinary person—deceived, suddenly thrust into this nightmare. If not for my vampire instincts saving me, I’d have died without ever knowing why.
That’s why I empathize with other ordinary people. The forces they can’t fight? They’re real. When disaster strikes, they won’t even know how they died.
They say, “A dying man’s words are kind.” But it cuts both ways—for the dying, and for the one delivering the blow. Standing before someone moments from death, you hesitate. You want them to understand, to die without regrets. That’s why villains in dramas talk too much before falling—it’s psychology.
But victims of supernatural incidents? They die with zero closure.
Thinking this, I sighed aloud:
“So… those who died in the incident were almost lucky. Death was a clean end. The truly unlucky are the survivors who witnessed the horror. They’ll spend their whole lives haunted by fear—their futures ruined.”
“Some end up in mental hospitals. Most suffer PTSD, struggling to live normally… Only a rare few, like me, stay optimistic enough to face tomorrow.”
Honestly? I’m resilient. I’ve walked through hell’s gates, constantly dancing on the edge of death and the danger of becoming nothing more than a plaything—yet I stay this upbeat.
Basically, a human role model.
An Li closed her eyes and murmured cryptically:
“Even being in the thick of it isn’t necessarily better than dying cluelessly like an ordinary person.”
I propped my chin on my hand. “Still better than being ordinary, right? At least we can fight with our own strength.”
Like Sister An Li—strong, commanding, stunningly beautiful. Truly enviable.
“Insufficient strength won’t cut it,” she said, standing and loading custom bullets into the magazine one by one. “So… being weak is a sin.”
My face fell. Silent.
Yeah. Being weak is a sin… and I’m *so* weak.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t fear the Holy See or the Queen.
“I’m sleeping. Use the computer if you want,” An Li said, heading to the bedroom. “Don’t disturb me. We leave at dawn.”
My spirits lifted. “Who needs the computer? I’ll rest too—I’m coming tomorrow.”
As a guy, how could I keep hiding behind Sister An Li? If I stayed hidden, I’d remain weak, pitiful, helpless—zero growth. Unacceptable.
I expected her to refuse, giving me room to persuade her. Instead, without turning back, she tossed over her shoulder:
“Do as you like.”
Joy flooded my face. “Great! I’ll rest and recharge!”
…Then I couldn’t sleep a wink.
“Sleep with determination” works about as well as eating a full meal to “gain strength for dieting.” Lying there, bloodshot eyes wide open, I just couldn’t shut them.
Two beds filled the single bedroom, neatly placed with barely enough space to squeeze between. Night dimmed the light slightly—but not enough. I saw everything clearly.
The summer quilt draped over Sister An Li’s slender, curvaceous frame. Her silhouette unmistakable.
I glanced down at myself: small hands, small feet, flat as a board.
*Stop looking. Just sleep.*
I wrestled with “determined sleep” until 2 or 3 a.m. before finally drifting off.
I woke yawning to An Li clattering around. Rubbing my eyes, I saw her tapping a blade’s tip with a small hammer.
*Clang! Clang! Clang!*
“What are you doing?”
“As you see,” she hammered on. “Tip’s not sharp enough.”
I looked closer. The blade’s curve was distorted—the tip unnaturally thin.
Yet she insisted it needed more.
Long, wide blade… tip razor-thin. Less a cleaver, more a flattened cone.
“Ah, *this* is why ‘wake up early’?” I checked the clock—barely past eight. “When do we leave?”
After snatching scarce sleep, her hammering jolted me awake. Felt lightheaded. Low blood sugar, maybe.
But the Loli Blood was down to three and a half vials—70 milliliters max. Couldn’t bring myself to drink it.
“We leave now.”
*Clang!*
Final strike. She didn’t wash it—just wiped debris with a damp cloth, tucked the blade away. “Let’s go.”
“O-okay!”
An Li pocketed her Senior Investigator badge, hefted the heavy weapon bag, and strode out. I followed close.
The receptionist froze, staring at our odd pair.
She’d seen guests leave with bags of used condoms before… but *this* massive, heavy-looking sack? Never.
*Must hold thousands… tens of thousands?*
