2.5

At the sound of a gentle voice and the warmth that settled on his shoulder, Isaac turned his gaze away from the abandoned Delphan house he had been staring at absentmindedly.  

“…High Priest Francis.”  

Isaac looked at the priest, who stood beside him with a warm smile, and returned the smile. The priest, who had raised the abandoned Isaac with love and kindness, was like a father to him.  

“She’s a truly wonderful person, isn’t she?”  

The priest, faintly guessing who the question was about, nodded lightly and raised the corners of his lips. Helena was as kind to Isaac—or indeed, to anyone in the village—as Ippolita had been.  

“Perhaps because of old memories, I feel like I return to my childhood when I’m in her presence. No, perhaps I’ve become even more… pathetic than I was as a child.”  

“Is that so? To me, it feels like you’ve grown a little more.”  

The elderly priest, who now stood much shorter than the young man, reached out to gently pat his head with a kind touch.  

“To my eyes, you were still a child, but when did you grow into such a man… Haha.”  

“Priest.”  

“Do you remember how the entire village marveled at how you followed Miss Ippolita around like a baby bird?”  

Unlike his vivid memories of Ippolita, Isaac’s recollection of the villagers was faint. He hadn’t played with children his age, instead constantly hovering near the stranger. To the village adults, this must have been a curious sight.  

“Today, you looked just the same as back then, yet somehow different.”  

“What do you mean…?”  

“You looked restless, trailing after Dr. Helena, just as you used to with Miss Ippolita. But I think the direction of your heart is different now.”  

…The direction of my heart is different. 

Isaac mulled over the priest’s words. When the priest casually touched upon feelings Isaac himself didn’t fully understand, it felt as though something inside him collapsed.  

“To thirteen-year-old Isaac, Ippolita, the stranger, must have been an object of curiosity, admiration, and reverence. But do you think the feelings you have for Helena are the same?”  

“…I don’t know.”  

Isaac truly didn’t know how to describe his feelings. At first, he had found her fascinating because of her resemblance to Ippolita, and for some reason, he had felt a sense of welcome. As time passed, it felt as though the void left by Ippolita was gradually being filled by her.  

‘Isaac.’  

Just the memory of her soft voice made his heart pound.  

Was I searching for the Ippolita I had lost in Helena? Was the lust I felt in my dreams merely a belated adolescence? What was the source of the discomfort I felt toward the men who approached her today?  

Isaac grew increasingly confused by the rising tide of questions. But one thing was certain:  

He wanted to stay by her side.  

“I would have been fine with you not becoming a priest. Growing up to lead an ordinary life and build a family—that, too, is the will of the Goddess, don’t you think? Just as it was her will for you and me to meet like this.”  

High Priest Francis patted Isaac’s chest lightly, as though brushing away the heavy burden weighing on his heart, and then turned toward the chapel. The early summer night air was beginning to grow warmer.  

“Oh, Fred. Where have you been wandering so late at night?”  

As High Priest Francis was about to enter the chapel, he noticed Fred lingering nearby and called out to him.  

“I’m sorry, Priest.”  

Fred, who had been silently listening to their conversation a few steps behind, bowed deeply to the priest in apology. The priest, as if to say it was alright, helped Fred straighten his back and then entered the chapel. Fred, however, continued to silently stare at Isaac’s back as he looked down the hill. The moonlight, now rising higher, illuminated Isaac’s reddened ears, which stood out clearly in Fred’s gaze, causing his neatly arranged eyebrows to twitch.  

‘Priest Isaac is the one who will succeed High Priest Francis as the priest of this place.’  

By the time Fred had taken his first steps as a toddler, Isaac had already been ordained as a priest. To Fred, Isaac, who was more noble and devout than anyone else in the village, was both an idol and an ideal. Wanting to emulate him, Fred had begun reading the scriptures at a young age and had undergone his ordination ceremony at an age as young as Isaac’s. To Fred, Isaac was someone who, by the will of the Goddess, was destined to perfectly fulfill the role of a priest. And it was Fred’s lifelong wish to follow in Isaac’s footsteps.  

‘That woman is ruining Priest Isaac.’  

Fred clenched his fists tightly. He believed that the arrival of the outsider, Helena, was not only unsettling the village but also ruining Isaac’s life. The anger he felt toward someone who was destroying something precious began to stain his pure faith with a dark, crimson hue.  

* * *  

“Please enjoy your meal, Dr. Helena.”  

For days now, Helena had been forced to eat human food, which she couldn’t even taste, because of the persistent little mouse who kept bringing her meals. Today’s menu was tomato stew with garlic.  

“Priest Fred, it’s alright; you don’t have to keep doing this.”  

“No, I must. My mother told me to bring back the empty dishes only after confirming you’ve eaten everything.”  

While volunteering in the treatment room, Helena often found herself having meals with the people from the chapel. She could barely manage to swallow a few pieces of rye bread, and Fred, who had noticed this, began bringing meals from home, claiming that his mother, Mila, was worried about Helena’s health.  

At first, Helena had found Fred, who used his mother as an excuse, somewhat endearing.  

But then she noticed ingredients like spearmint, hyssop, shallots, and garlic—foods mentioned in the scriptures as poisonous to vampires—and she couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. However, when she drank orange juice mixed with holy water, she nearly spat it out, unable to dismiss it as a mere joke. While the other ingredients didn’t affect her, the holy water, which coursed through her bloodstream after passing down her throat, caused her immense mental anguish. It even made her dream nightmares she had never experienced in her life as a vampire.  

Recalling the dream in which she was beaten by fanatics, Helena set down the empty bowl and smiled faintly.  

“It was delicious. Please tell Mila I enjoyed it.”  

Seeing that she had finished the tomato stew, Fred made a disgusted expression. By now, one would think he would give up, but his persistence was truly impressive. Vampires couldn’t taste anything except blood, so Helena could only imagine the flavor based on scent, temperature, and texture. As soon as she set her spoon down, the priests’ gazes turned toward her.  

“Mila’s… cooking isn’t particularly good. You must be very kind.”  

Johann looked at Helena with eyes full of admiration, and Isaac’s gaze was not much different. Unlike Helena’s empty bowl, Johann’s bowl remained untouched, and Isaac was forcing himself to swallow the stew by soaking it in rye bread. It was only then that Helena realized Mila’s cooking was unappetizing, and she smiled bitterly. Johann, unable to bear it any longer, set down his spoon and spoke.

“Fred, please… spare this poor brother of yours. It’s not like our chapel is suffering from a lack of budget. How much longer do we have to eat Mila’s cooking? It seems like she’s improving, but… with all due respect to Mila, it feels like a waste of ingredients.”

“…Understood.”

Thanks to the worldly Johann, Helena was finally freed from her torment. If the little mouse hadn’t been a child born in this village, he would have long since been sent to the embrace of the Goddess. Helena suppressed her murderous intent as she recalled Mila, who had once thrown her a bouquet.

‘…This is my limit.’

What she felt wasn’t the limit of her murderous intent but the limit of her hunger and thirst. Her eyes, which had turned green, returned to their usual brown with a hint of green, but fortunately, no one seemed to notice. Last time, Isaac appeared to stare intently at her changed eyes, but he hadn’t said anything. The only person who remembered Ippolita’s eye color—a hunter elder—had not visited the treatment room since, so the risk of being discovered had diminished.

While Helena contemplated ways to sate her hunger, Johann, who was also forcing himself to eat Mila’s stew, struck up a conversation with her.

“Come to think of it, Dr. Helena, weren’t you planning to visit the neighboring village today?”

“Yes, I was just about to leave.”

Helena responded as she stood up. The last time she tracked the pheromone left behind by a man named Bill, who had visited the treatment room, she confirmed that he was still staying in the neighboring village. She needed to meet him before the pheromone faded, so Helena had to hurry. Missing out on such a fragrant prey would be a shame for someone as famished as she was.