He immediately lifted his upper body and grabbed her forearms with both hands. The sharp tip of his teeth stung and his tongue slashed inside. It was as if a beast that had suffered from thirst for days was possessed and poked at the small gap where the water was leaking out.
Angie silently endured the pain. She remained motionless, with her arm outstretched. She didn't think about anything. She didn't care about any medical knowledge or suspicions. She didn't care about Kyle being a vampire or anything, especially not about him. She just followed her instinct to save him.
If the strange nature of the island, the plants that gave birth to Eternity, made the host drink human blood as a nutrient, then all she had to do was give it hers. She felt like she could give half, or even all, of the blood in her body to save Kyle.
“Angie, what are you... Master!”
Jerome, who belatedly witnessed the situation, helped Kyle up. Fortunately, Kyle's eyes were slowly regaining their composure.
But Angie wasn't like that. Before he could realize his own eccentricity, she collapsed to the floor helplessly. Seeing Kyle's unharmed face, the tension in her body instantly disappeared, and the stamina she had barely managed to hold on to was instantly depleted.
“Angie! Angie, wake up!”
Angie couldn't open her eyes. But she felt a faint smile of relief on her lips. Warmth and body odor enveloped her, and she heard the sound of the boat docking.
The familiar feeling of strong arms lifting her up in both arms and pressing her head against his shoulder came over her. It was the last sensation Angie experienced before losing consciousness.
Michael's body was left in the middle of a desolate forest on the other side of Lake Te Deum. His pupils were empty, the blood draining from under his eyes, and his limbs were nailed to the cross, like the incarnation of the devil being crucified.
The residents of Scarbor Estate each lit a torch in their hand and placed it on the body. The women behind them touched the cross around his neck, sprinkled holy water, and recited prayers.
In the south of Trieste, many superstitions and folk customs remained, including the belief that the bodies of those who died from demonic possession should be burned to ashes so that the devil would never return to their land again.
Other things were also engulfed in flames. The secrets of the Caelum doctrine, as well as all the books, the contents of the vaults, the furniture, and the bedding within the Te Deum's library, were to be burned and the interior completely emptied. This was the order given by the Duke of Blackwell, the master of the house, who had been cleared of the charge of the Emperor's murder due to insufficient evidence.
While the main building was being cleaned up over the course of several days, Kyle was interrogated by the Vintergar Police Department in the annex between treatments. It was seen as a rigorous interrogation of a citizen in exile, but in reality, it was little more than a Q&A session.
In any case, both sides knew for certain that he was innocent. The investigation was merely a formality. The Director, with his help from time to time, devoted all his energy to writing a tremendous report to be submitted to both Trieste and Vintergar. Of course, not a word was mentioned about Black Mass or Eternity.
"Archduke Winston's body has not yet been found, but judging by the fact that his shoes were inside the boat, it is thought that he drowned in the lake. The water is deep, so the search is still ongoing, and it will likely take a few more days.
In addition, it is assumed that Michael Randall and the Duke's family were in some kind of collective hallucination state. It could be due to illegal drugs, or it could be due to supernatural phenomena caused by regional characteristics or weather abnormalities. We are investigating the detailed motive and cause, but it is difficult to give you confidence that the exact truth will be revealed at this time... (omitted)"
After Kyle returned to the medical room, the director rewrote and erased the report several times. Although he was experienced in field investigations, sitting at his desk and writing a document was still a difficult task.
“No matter how much I think about it, it’s strange. Those strange eyes... I can’t even convince myself, so how can I convince the authorities, the parliament, and His Majesty?”
He had no idea of the terrible doctrines his family had passed through, of the rituals that had underpinned their tragedy. He never would.
At the same time, another thing that the director was unaware of was quietly happening in the main building. As soon as Jerome's men put the piled-up bodies of the helpers and all traces into the underground incinerator and closed the lid, the ignition device was immediately activated. One of the village workers who had lit the fire flinched and turned around as he was about to close the incinerator door and leave.
“What’s wrong, Joseph?”
“Didn’t you hear a scream just now?”
It seemed as if a strange roar was mixed with the roaring sound. But the fellow worker tilted his head and touched his ears.
“Well, isn’t it just the sound of burning? Maybe it’s louder because there’s more than usual.”
“Ahh... I see.”
It sounded like someone was burning alive and screaming for help. Did I mishear?
Angie silently endured the pain. She remained motionless, with her arm outstretched. She didn't think about anything. She didn't care about any medical knowledge or suspicions. She didn't care about Kyle being a vampire or anything, especially not about him. She just followed her instinct to save him.
If the strange nature of the island, the plants that gave birth to Eternity, made the host drink human blood as a nutrient, then all she had to do was give it hers. She felt like she could give half, or even all, of the blood in her body to save Kyle.
“Angie, what are you... Master!”
Jerome, who belatedly witnessed the situation, helped Kyle up. Fortunately, Kyle's eyes were slowly regaining their composure.
But Angie wasn't like that. Before he could realize his own eccentricity, she collapsed to the floor helplessly. Seeing Kyle's unharmed face, the tension in her body instantly disappeared, and the stamina she had barely managed to hold on to was instantly depleted.
“Angie! Angie, wake up!”
Angie couldn't open her eyes. But she felt a faint smile of relief on her lips. Warmth and body odor enveloped her, and she heard the sound of the boat docking.
The familiar feeling of strong arms lifting her up in both arms and pressing her head against his shoulder came over her. It was the last sensation Angie experienced before losing consciousness.
***
Michael's body was left in the middle of a desolate forest on the other side of Lake Te Deum. His pupils were empty, the blood draining from under his eyes, and his limbs were nailed to the cross, like the incarnation of the devil being crucified.
The residents of Scarbor Estate each lit a torch in their hand and placed it on the body. The women behind them touched the cross around his neck, sprinkled holy water, and recited prayers.
In the south of Trieste, many superstitions and folk customs remained, including the belief that the bodies of those who died from demonic possession should be burned to ashes so that the devil would never return to their land again.
Other things were also engulfed in flames. The secrets of the Caelum doctrine, as well as all the books, the contents of the vaults, the furniture, and the bedding within the Te Deum's library, were to be burned and the interior completely emptied. This was the order given by the Duke of Blackwell, the master of the house, who had been cleared of the charge of the Emperor's murder due to insufficient evidence.
While the main building was being cleaned up over the course of several days, Kyle was interrogated by the Vintergar Police Department in the annex between treatments. It was seen as a rigorous interrogation of a citizen in exile, but in reality, it was little more than a Q&A session.
In any case, both sides knew for certain that he was innocent. The investigation was merely a formality. The Director, with his help from time to time, devoted all his energy to writing a tremendous report to be submitted to both Trieste and Vintergar. Of course, not a word was mentioned about Black Mass or Eternity.
"Archduke Winston's body has not yet been found, but judging by the fact that his shoes were inside the boat, it is thought that he drowned in the lake. The water is deep, so the search is still ongoing, and it will likely take a few more days.
In addition, it is assumed that Michael Randall and the Duke's family were in some kind of collective hallucination state. It could be due to illegal drugs, or it could be due to supernatural phenomena caused by regional characteristics or weather abnormalities. We are investigating the detailed motive and cause, but it is difficult to give you confidence that the exact truth will be revealed at this time... (omitted)"
After Kyle returned to the medical room, the director rewrote and erased the report several times. Although he was experienced in field investigations, sitting at his desk and writing a document was still a difficult task.
“No matter how much I think about it, it’s strange. Those strange eyes... I can’t even convince myself, so how can I convince the authorities, the parliament, and His Majesty?”
He had no idea of the terrible doctrines his family had passed through, of the rituals that had underpinned their tragedy. He never would.
At the same time, another thing that the director was unaware of was quietly happening in the main building. As soon as Jerome's men put the piled-up bodies of the helpers and all traces into the underground incinerator and closed the lid, the ignition device was immediately activated. One of the village workers who had lit the fire flinched and turned around as he was about to close the incinerator door and leave.
“What’s wrong, Joseph?”
“Didn’t you hear a scream just now?”
It seemed as if a strange roar was mixed with the roaring sound. But the fellow worker tilted his head and touched his ears.
“Well, isn’t it just the sound of burning? Maybe it’s louder because there’s more than usual.”
“Ahh... I see.”
It sounded like someone was burning alive and screaming for help. Did I mishear?
Well, even if they were servants who deserved to be punished, they wouldn't have thrown in a living person instead of a corpse.
The crematorium door opened again a few hours later. The inside was a complete mountain of ash. If anyone had been inside, there was no chance of them being alive.
A fortnight passed. It was an incredibly peaceful and cozy time.
Hessen, a resort town on the outskirts of the capital of Vintergard, had been transformed into a snowfield overnight. After the bitter cold of December continued day after day, the snow that had fallen from night to morning had piled up thickly, leaving only pure white snow everywhere you looked.
The manor of the villa they rented as a temporary residence was no exception. There was not a single corner of the deserted gravel road, the fountain and fence that had stopped working for a while, and even the obelisk that the snowstorm had not spared.
Jerome leaned against the annex gate and opened the letter from Vintergar. It was news that Michael Randall and Louis Dunst were quickly identifying the spies they had planted in the Citadel and that they were doing so with the active cooperation of Martin Silva of the Metropolitan Police and his father-in-law, Willem van Armitage.
“Thank goodness. Angie’s family is at peace now.”
The two babies would be safe, too. No more would the hand of the devil touch their precious lives. Jerome sighed in relief and quickly skimmed through the rest of the contents. There was one more piece of good news.
"There is also good news for your condition. Recently, Dr. Karl Landsteiner, a pathologist in Vicentine, announced for the first time the discovery of genetic characteristics of blood that differ depending on the constitution. In short, the composition of human blood is different. The results of this study have been proven to be true, and since last year, the state hospitals in Vicentine and Vintergar have actually started introducing blood type-based transfusions."
Jerome's eyes lit up. It was truly good news. In the past, the reason why the previous Dukes and Louis Dunst brought in so-called remedies, countless sacrificial lambs, was because of the uncertainty of the blood. The gender part was due to doctrine and superstition, but there was no way to know whose blood would be compatible until the actual blood was injected.
"I received a reply that if you continue to receive treatment at Vintergar after the situation there is sorted out, you will definitely see improvement. For now, I am enclosing a letter with some medicine that will be a temporary prescription for your symptoms."
The medicine that crossed the border came with a certificate proving that it had been officially approved by the Vicentine royal family. It was a real remedy, not a sacrificial remedy. Jerome headed inward to call the doctor that the Vintergar royal family had arranged for him.
As he was just passing the corridor of chambers used as temporary medical rooms, he turned around as if something had occurred to him. Then he took a few steps back and knocked on the door where the patient was staying. There was an immediate answer from inside.
“Yes, please come in.”
As he entered, Annette turned to look at him from the sickbed. The maid who had been standing next to him and caring for him greeted Jerome and left the room. Jerome pulled up a chair and sat down at the head of the bed.
“How are you? The doctor said your recovery is surprisingly fast.”
“That’s right. I feel like it’s getting better.”
Annette smiled faintly, her brow furrowing slightly. But soon her gaze turned worried.
“Angie... Angie? It’s been five days since I fully woke up from my coma. When will I be able to see her again?”
“You should think about getting better first. Then you can go see Angie.”
“I’m fine now! I can walk with crutches or use a wheelchair.”
“Don’t overdo it. It’ll just make the wound worse.”
Jerome waved his hand as if he was Arthur. Her back, where she had been stabbed with a dagger by Michael two weeks ago, was still far from fully healed. It was fortunate that it was in her back, but if it had been directly stabbed in the heart, she would have died on the spot.
“You don’t have to worry about Angie anymore. Just wait a few more days.”
“Yes, I can’t help it. I won’t be impatient anymore. As long as Angie is safe, I can wait as long as I want.”
“Yeah, that’s good.”
It wasn't a word to comfort the girl. He was relieved and thought it was fortunate. Since the day Angie collapsed at Te Deum, she had crossed the border to Vintergar and stayed in this temporary shelter, falling ill and waking up, then falling into a coma again and again, countless times.
The crematorium door opened again a few hours later. The inside was a complete mountain of ash. If anyone had been inside, there was no chance of them being alive.
***
A fortnight passed. It was an incredibly peaceful and cozy time.
Hessen, a resort town on the outskirts of the capital of Vintergard, had been transformed into a snowfield overnight. After the bitter cold of December continued day after day, the snow that had fallen from night to morning had piled up thickly, leaving only pure white snow everywhere you looked.
The manor of the villa they rented as a temporary residence was no exception. There was not a single corner of the deserted gravel road, the fountain and fence that had stopped working for a while, and even the obelisk that the snowstorm had not spared.
Jerome leaned against the annex gate and opened the letter from Vintergar. It was news that Michael Randall and Louis Dunst were quickly identifying the spies they had planted in the Citadel and that they were doing so with the active cooperation of Martin Silva of the Metropolitan Police and his father-in-law, Willem van Armitage.
“Thank goodness. Angie’s family is at peace now.”
The two babies would be safe, too. No more would the hand of the devil touch their precious lives. Jerome sighed in relief and quickly skimmed through the rest of the contents. There was one more piece of good news.
"There is also good news for your condition. Recently, Dr. Karl Landsteiner, a pathologist in Vicentine, announced for the first time the discovery of genetic characteristics of blood that differ depending on the constitution. In short, the composition of human blood is different. The results of this study have been proven to be true, and since last year, the state hospitals in Vicentine and Vintergar have actually started introducing blood type-based transfusions."
Jerome's eyes lit up. It was truly good news. In the past, the reason why the previous Dukes and Louis Dunst brought in so-called remedies, countless sacrificial lambs, was because of the uncertainty of the blood. The gender part was due to doctrine and superstition, but there was no way to know whose blood would be compatible until the actual blood was injected.
"I received a reply that if you continue to receive treatment at Vintergar after the situation there is sorted out, you will definitely see improvement. For now, I am enclosing a letter with some medicine that will be a temporary prescription for your symptoms."
The medicine that crossed the border came with a certificate proving that it had been officially approved by the Vicentine royal family. It was a real remedy, not a sacrificial remedy. Jerome headed inward to call the doctor that the Vintergar royal family had arranged for him.
As he was just passing the corridor of chambers used as temporary medical rooms, he turned around as if something had occurred to him. Then he took a few steps back and knocked on the door where the patient was staying. There was an immediate answer from inside.
“Yes, please come in.”
As he entered, Annette turned to look at him from the sickbed. The maid who had been standing next to him and caring for him greeted Jerome and left the room. Jerome pulled up a chair and sat down at the head of the bed.
“How are you? The doctor said your recovery is surprisingly fast.”
“That’s right. I feel like it’s getting better.”
Annette smiled faintly, her brow furrowing slightly. But soon her gaze turned worried.
“Angie... Angie? It’s been five days since I fully woke up from my coma. When will I be able to see her again?”
“You should think about getting better first. Then you can go see Angie.”
“I’m fine now! I can walk with crutches or use a wheelchair.”
“Don’t overdo it. It’ll just make the wound worse.”
Jerome waved his hand as if he was Arthur. Her back, where she had been stabbed with a dagger by Michael two weeks ago, was still far from fully healed. It was fortunate that it was in her back, but if it had been directly stabbed in the heart, she would have died on the spot.
“You don’t have to worry about Angie anymore. Just wait a few more days.”
“Yes, I can’t help it. I won’t be impatient anymore. As long as Angie is safe, I can wait as long as I want.”
“Yeah, that’s good.”
It wasn't a word to comfort the girl. He was relieved and thought it was fortunate. Since the day Angie collapsed at Te Deum, she had crossed the border to Vintergar and stayed in this temporary shelter, falling ill and waking up, then falling into a coma again and again, countless times.
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