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If the graves of deceased family members or friends have been disturbed, suspect foul play.

If, one day, someone knocks on your door in the dead of night without revealing their name, it is a relative who has not found rest. Endure and hold on until dawn breaks, then seek out a priest at first light.

However, if the voice that answers your inquiries is unmistakably familiar, speaking in the tone of someone you know…

Lock all doors immediately, and embrace your holy symbol, praying until the moment the sun casts light upon all beings.

Never open the door.

Welcoming an uninvited guest is an act that invites danger, and for an uninvited soul to knock at your door is a grave discourtesy. If tonight, a guest comes knocking, insist they explain their situation and recommend they find shelter in the church. Even if they plead for you to open the door, refuse firmly.

The church doors are open to all, and it is natural for travelers to spend a night in the church. Recall that priests do not deny guests who come calling in the dark of the night.

If you find yourself wandering in deep darkness, follow the priest or monk with the lantern. If you are a good citizen, they will guide you to a safe church; if you are a poor soul seeking rest, they will lead you to the riverbank.

Regardless of what horrors or temptations entice you, do not look or listen.

Even if you hear the cries of livestock or the barking of a once ferocious dog fall silent, or if a neighbor knocks at your door asking for help…

You must first ensure your own safety and that of your family.

What now knocks upon your door is neither kin, friend, nor neighbor.

…This passage is an excerpt from the novel ‘Vampire and Nosferatu,’ penned by Friedrich von Rinyu (918-979). Friedrich, famed as one of the greatest writers and prose stylists of his time, made his literary debut with this vampire-themed novel.

Ironically, Friedrich’s death bore many similarities to the demise of the victims depicted in his stories. He was killed by a mysterious thug who visited his home while he was writing a letter to his child, alongside a friend.

The cause of death: excessive blood loss.

It was early morning when everyone was fast asleep, leaving no witnesses. The only witness, his friend, reportedly suffered from a mental illness resembling aphasia, refusing to give any testimony before retreating into a monastery, and thereafter, his whereabouts vanished from any article or document.

The investigator who performed Friedrich’s autopsy later recalled, “I have never seen a corpse so horrifying in my life.”

– Book review excerpt from ‘Understanding the History of the Undead through Literature’ / Part of the records submitted during my Academy days.

[Teacher’s Note: Ms. Ayla Nostrim. While reading a variety of books is commendable, please focus on texts related to your intended field of study as you aim for university admission. Still, as the Kien language teacher, I pride myself on your achievement in reading foreign literature in its original version. The revised edition of ‘Introduction to Elemental Science’ that you submitted last April has been newly published in the Kien Empire; please read it again and provide a new book review.– I expect your language skills to be high. Further, we will question you on current issues related to the Kien language and Empire in your upcoming interview.]

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

If you’ve served in the military, you’ve likely heard that security is an obsession drilled into employees’ ears by the information agency. It pertains to a place that produces and disseminates national secrets.

As is often the case with murky and closed organizations, the company’s fixation on security borders on madness, perhaps even veering into a form of perversion.

The same could be said for a company headquartered in Seoul, and those that moved to Gwacheon and Anyang, as well as a company in Seongnam, the heart of the IT industry in Pangyo.

Yet, as they say, ten years can change an era. Even those companies akin to clogged toilets had to yield to the tide of the times.

I can’t recall the exact date, but I vividly remember an incident shared by a junior who had just completed their training and joined our team. It was said that a colleague was caught late at night engrossed in their smartphone while a disciplinary officer barged in and gave them a tongue-lashing.

When I was in training, all phones were confiscated, so I wondered if the world had changed or the rules had simply loosened; at some point, they allowed smartphones during training periods.

According to what my junior shared, the individual caught engrossed on their phone was reading a novel. Specifically, a web novel.

‘Everyone knew they were reading until dawn, but… how did the officer find out when the colleagues in the same room didn’t say anything about it? It remains a mystery.’

‘Was that smartphone theirs, or was it company-issued?’

‘The officers provided it for us to use.’

‘See? It’s no wonder you got caught. Why would the company give smartphones, which you can’t even bring into the duty room? Did you not find that odd while using it?’

‘Ah.’

‘…You’re in for a rough time moving forward. Hang in there.’

At first, I worried about how to mold this kid into a proper person, but as time passed, I recalled the junior who got caught for reading a novel.

What could be so fascinating that it kept them up reading until dawn?

So I decided to give it a read myself.

From works published by conglomerates like Naver and Kakao to those serialized on platforms featuring mascots devouring tteokbokki, I sometimes found myself laughing with acquaintances upon discovering familiar company names in novels.

Yeah.

There was certainly a time when I would laugh and chat while peering at the words shining on my screen.

“……”

Yet this time, I could not muster a single laugh.

*

The steel framework supported the rocky cavern, the sharp lights illuminated the concrete.

Within the nurturing embrace of the Earth God, beloved by Al-Yabd, people gathered in a vast underground cave.

The dazzling lights descended from all directions, yet a subtly swaying shadow licked out like a starving snake. Gazing into the pulsating darkness along the edges felt like peering into a well whose depth remained unfathomable.

Ultimately, I could do nothing but avert my gaze, turning my head away.

“I can’t believe that vampires from stories still exist… It’s unbelievable.”

I turned my head to speak, and my eyes met those of Ibrahim.

His shirt, patterned like camouflage, paired with military boots made it clear to anyone that Ibrahim was solidly in soldier territory. I posed my query to him.

“Aren’t vampires extinct?”

With arms crossed, Ibrahim cautiously responded to the inquiry.

“Correct. They were officially deemed extinct following the Pope’s final decree regarding the vampire ‘Count Erzsébet’ in 1614. Both formally and informally.”

I gestured toward the coffin.

“Then what about that?”

“……”

The glow of the strategically placed lights illuminated that very spot—there lay the coffin.

Crafted from cedar, it shone with a sleek luster, a red aura encircling its angular edges forming a hexagon when hands came together, and the subtle scent of cedar wafted through the air.

While its sturdiness may not rival that of sandalwood, the exceptional fragrance of cedar was its claim to fame.

Given that all coffins of previous popes were made from cedar, its reputation as a premium material meant to soothe the resting departed was well established.

However,

An angelic statue crushed with a serpent’s head underfoot, a single page of the holy scripture concealing even the tiniest of gaps,

The thick band of salt encircling the coffin and lighting that kept darkness at bay,

A plethora of holy water vials densely stored within magical tools alongside rigid-faced religious figures.

Looking upon such a scene would undoubtedly lead anyone to ponder.

That a monster lies asleep within that coffin.

“……”

Ibrahim averted his gaze.

“…We are also doing our utmost to assess the situation. Alongside many clerics.”

Following the report of a coffin housing a vampire discovered in the Necropolis, the Holy See acted swiftly.

The Order of Knights stationed in the sacred land at Lateran sprang into action, dispatching specialized personnel that included Inquisition Officers, exorcists, and scholars. Moreover, they did not stop there, quickly notifying Al-Yabd. They requested support to resolve the vampire issue.

The fact that the cult readily accepted such a request without any rebuttal indicated just how seriously both factions regarded the matter, scrutinizing one another as if they were livestock, fowl, or swine.

I lowered my head, taking in the facilities provided by Al-Yabd.

“I thought that as long as we safely retrieved the blood, it would be over.”

Nimiral. Now, I have to worry about a monster that has likely lived for hundreds of years.

With a heavy heart, I stroked my jaw. The coffin gleamed with a red tint. A vampire lay within.

“What does the investigation reveal?”

“At present, we have confirmed that the coffin was not crafted in the Mauritania Continent. The habitat of cedar only exists on the continent, so it is likely…”

“An item that crossed the sea?”

“…That appears to be the case.”

With a grim expression, Ibrahim nodded, and I found myself lost in thought, staring intently at the coffin.

As he had stated, the coffin did not originate from Mauritania; it was an item that came from the continent. Even if the cedar’s habitat exists here, it remains the same.

Burial culture is not part of Mauritania’s traditions.

The religion encompassing the entire Mauritania continent, ‘Al-Yabd,’ shares many similarities with Islam. This is evident in their funeral customs, whereby Islamic funerals in the Middle East—dominated by the faith—typically adhere to burying the deceased within 24 hours from the time of death, contrasting starkly from European or Eastern practices.

For a natural death or someone succumbing to illness, a Muslim nearing death would perform Wudu (الوضوء: the act of purifying oneself) and begin the Shahada (الشَهَادَة: the declaration of faith) while gazing towards Mecca. If unable to move, a family member or acquaintance may undertake this process in their stead.

At that time, the deceased would be clothed in their favorite attire, wrapped in clean cloth, and secured with rope.

Post-preparation, after the funeral rites conclude, family and friends would transport the body on a makeshift stretcher to the burial site, akin to a funeral bier in Korean culture.

They would then place the body in the grave and cover it with stones, concluding the funeral. This ritual occurs in daylight hours, and unlike other cultures, the practice of placing coffins into graves is nearly unheard of. This reflects Islamic doctrine. Even when a Saudi king passes away…

They buried it according to the barrel.

Thus, that coffin inevitably stands out as an alien object not aligned with the burial customs of the Mauritania Continent.

“Have you perhaps identified the corpse laid in the coffin?”

As I pointed at the coffin with my finger, Ibrahim, who was filling his cup with water from the dispenser, brought it to his lips.

“We found no clues to ascertain the identity, both from the exterior of the coffin and at the scene at the time of the investigation. However, thanks to scholars analyzing the coffin’s style, we can roughly estimate the burial period.”

“So, how many years ago was the coffin buried? 300? 400 years?”

The Commander of the Holy Knights added shortly.

“800 years ago.”

“Wait a minute. What did you say? 800 years ago?”

“Yes. The coffin’s style is similar to that from 800 years ago, so the creation of the coffin at the very least dates back to that time.”

My eyes widened at the utterly unexpected number. If it was 800 years ago, that means the 1100s.

Damn it. How can a coffin made back then still exist? By that time, even vampires would’ve turned to dust.

While I was grumbling about it internally, I noticed that Ibrahim, looking down at the paper cup, began to grimace.

“The information inferred from the period when the coffin was made might not align with the actual age of the vampire.”

“You’re not saying the vampire might be older than 800 years, are you?”

“Unfortunately, yes. There’s also a possibility that it was laid to rest in a coffin crafted long ago…”

Usually, when both positive and negative assumptions emerge simultaneously, the negative one tends to be the answer. Just like Murphy’s Law.

When I read novels about vampires, they were just fun. But now that I was facing it, fun was nowhere to be found.

I clicked the flint and asked Ibrahim.

“Could it be that the cultist took the saint’s blood intending to feed it to the vampire?”

He considered it a fairly plausible hypothesis.

“The Inquisition Officers and exorcist priests have similar opinions. Al-Yabd’s judgment aligns as well.”

“You successfully recovered the blood, right?”

“Yes, we recovered everything. It is currently being securely stored in the Lateran’s vault.”

The blood of Lucia, the target for both the Order of the Holy Knights and the cult, is now tightly guarded by the cult. Since we retrieved every drop, we can say that whatever the cult’s purpose was, they have failed for now.

Now all that remains is—

“How do you plan to deal with that vampire?”

*

The discussion commenced.

The topic was about how to kill the vampire. How can we safely kill that monster without allowing it to escape?

“What if we open the coffin and pour holy water inside? Undead creatures should be weak to holy water. If we bash the barrel open, that thing won’t withstand it, right?”

“That probably wouldn’t work.”

“How about driving a stake through its heart or burning it with blessed oil?”

I proposed common sense solutions for dealing with vampires.

To be precise, they were at a level that would pop up if you Googled “How to kill a vampire.”

Among all sorts of races like beastmen, orcs, goblins, elves, dwarves, dragons, etc., it was a melange of a neighborhood, but information regarding undead was hard to come by. Historical religious groups, including the cult, sought to prevent the spread of “unclean knowledge.”

How the cult found out about China’s beautiful culture is beyond me, but they followed the traditional games of the Chinese people of old.

They dragged out scholars researching the undead and had them boiled in oil, smashed all samples and research data to bits, and burned every book.

Of course, this was during a time when villagers stigmatized any widow who seemed to have some wealth as a devil-worshiper or witch and made her into a bonfire (albeit a rather large one) to be taken down by the Inquisition.

If even a magician could die back then, naturally, someone caught researching the undead would also meet their demise.

Anyway, due to the zeal of religious groups concerned about the educational intake of academy children in later years, all historical records on the undead were burned, so today, information about them can only be sourced from materials that barely survived through the suppression of literature, and creations mixed with the imaginations of authors.

That means it’s utterly useless knowledge.

“If that were possible, we would have done it already.”

“Hmm…”

Today, even with the lousy Wikipedia and the lack of interference from the Inquisition, as I was cursing the authors who hadn’t properly done their research, Ibrahim explained why we couldn’t kill the vampire.

“I’ve tried most of the methods you mentioned, but none worked. When I sprinkled holy water, high-temperature steam was produced, injuring people, and when I hammered down a silver stake, it just rebounded and slammed into a wall.”

“The coffin?”

“No, the one that rebounded was a person. He died instantly upon colliding with the rock wall.”

“……”

“It’s presumed that the coffin itself may be the cause of the problem, although that is not a certain guess. Perhaps if we open the lid and spill holy water, the vampire might die, but… both the cult and Al-Yabd have agreed to leave opening the coffin as a last resort.”

Hearing that, I looked at the footage stored in the surveillance equipment, and it was quite a sight.

The coffin, far from being made of wood, was impervious to hits and pokes, and when fire was brought near it, not even soot appeared. No matter how hard we tried, the cedar coffin’s smooth shine remained untouched as if mocking us, while the shadows on its edges only writhed ominously.

Moreover,

-Pit!

While playing back the video, there was a sudden cut-off in the display. The facility manager came and tried to revive the device, but every effort proved futile.

“The alchemical card has completely burned. I think we’ll need to replace the terminal?”

“Why did it suddenly burn?”

“Honestly, I don’t know…”

The cult and Al-Yabd utilized numerous means to kill the vampire, resulting in three deaths and 49 injuries, yet they gained no results. I don’t know what the deceased thought, but it seems they were quite shy.

At this point, wouldn’t it be better to just leave it alone? The old folks have trouble sleeping at night, so why wake them up unnecessarily? Maybe we could just weigh it down and toss it into the ocean.

Thinking it over, I cautiously suggested the idea, but it was met with staunch opposition from the priests of the cult and Al-Yabd. Their logic was that we needed to confirm the vampire was definitively dead to prevent any further harm.

Just before I was set to return, I approached Ibrahim one last time to pose a question.

“You mentioned earlier that the coffin was made 800 years ago, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s assume the vampire is about 800 years old. How strong would it typically be?”

He was loading bullets into the magazine. They were not ordinary rounds but shimmering blessed bullets.

“The age of an undead does not proportionate to its strength, so gauging a vampire’s level based on its age isn’t feasible. However, living so long means it has survived against risks aimed at it. Most undead that survive for an extended time tend to be either cunning or strong. It must belong to one of those types.”

Clack, as the trigger moved forward, the blessed bullet climbed into the chamber. Nearby, firearms that seemed to belong to the cult were neatly displayed, and a priest was pacing around shaking a holy water sprinkler.

The Commander of the Holy Knights posed a question.

“The vampire I spoke of. The ‘Countess Erzsébet’, eliminated in 1614, was a monster that took the lives of tens of thousands on the battlefield. She was the fourth most powerful vampire taken down by the Order of the Holy Knights and the Inquisition. How many years do you think the ‘Countess Erzsébet’ lived?”

“Well… since she’s fourth, around 400?”

“183 years.”

Clunk! Ibrahim closed the gun cabinet.

“The Holy See didn’t fail to capture her because they didn’t know of her existence. It’s just that they didn’t dare to eliminate her. She was far too strong of a monster. Therefore, let me ask again.”

He slung the strap over his neck. The silver cross swayed above his uniform.

“How strong do you think a vampire that has lived for 800 years or more would be?”

*

Ibrahim decided to remain at the facility.

“We must find a way to kill the vampire, no matter what.”

It seemed he intended to stay here for a while.

The timeline would presumably last until either the vampire was dead or a method to kill it was found.

For now, he mentioned he would remain here with his subordinates until reinforcements from the cult arrived. However, based on his gaze and demeanor, he seemed quite resolute about it.

“What’s with the serious pondering?”

On the way out of the facility, as I walked through a narrow pathway between rocks, Matt asked me.

“Just thinking about the vampire.”

“You planning to kill it?”

I shrugged my shoulders and pouted my lips. Matt raised his eyebrows momentarily.

“Is it necessary to be concerned about such things? The conflict between Asen and Sanya has yet to be resolved.”

“Work is work.”

“I don’t mind as long as it doesn’t affect your duties…”

The information officer walking ahead paused.

Then he turned back and cast me a glance, saying this.

“Stay out of unnecessary incidents. It’d be lucky if it just gives you a headache, but you might find your life on the line… well, you know that already.”

“……”

“I’m saying this out of caution. I mean no harm.”

“I’ll heed your advice.”

“I’ll contact you as soon as I hear news from the warlord. Keep the lines always open.”

Matt stepped onto the magic circle and disappeared in an instant.

I stared blankly at the spot he had vacated, then perched on a nearby rock, waiting for my magic to recharge.

“……”

As he said, the vampire is a secondary issue.

Just as the conflict between Asen and Sanya is a critical problem for Matt, I only need to focus on successfully completing the mission to Mauritania.

No matter how strong the vampire may be, with the cult and Al-Yabd stepping in, I’m sure they will handle it. If they can take down demons, surely they could deal with an old geezer that’s been hanging around for centuries.

…

That was what I thought just a moment ago.

“…What are you doing here?”

“Oh, it seems my return doesn’t excite you much after all this time.”

I slapped my forehead with a *smack!* and shut my eyes.

“Colonel?”

Oh.

I had completely forgotten about him.

 

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