5.2

The forest surrounding the village was gradually shedding its darkness under the rising sunlight. Following Dennis’s trail deep into the woods, Helena was on the verge of exploding with frustration. She had grown suspicious of his strange movements and followed him to the chapel, where she overheard his conversation with Fred. Or perhaps Dennis had spoken knowing she would hear.

“You used such a filthy, underhanded method, Dennis.”

“It’s my chance to keep you by my side forever. What wouldn’t I do for that, Lena? Besides, I spared your village, didn’t I? If I hadn’t, that rat might have spread rumors.”

Perhaps he was right. That little rat, who resembled Mila, had the fanatical gleam of a zealot in his eyes. But it was already a game Helena had nearly won, so she forced herself to calm down.

“No matter how much you interfere, I’ll win.”

“Oh? Even in this situation, you’re confident you’ll win? How exciting, Lena.”

Recently, Helena’s relationship with Isaac had grown so close that others might mistake them for lovers. They occasionally kissed in secret, and though they hadn’t openly declared their love, his small gestures and the sweetness of the blood she had tasted were proof enough. By today, the fruit of her efforts should have ripened.

“Keep your promise. About ‘Uncle’s’ whereabouts.”

“Of course. You know I always keep my promises to you.”

‘But there are so many things he doesn’t say.’

This was the biggest reason Helena had rejected Dennis’s proposal. He acted as if he would give her everything, but he always hid the most important things. How could she trust such a man and spend eternity with him?

On the other hand, Isaac was completely transparent. It was as if he could make her feel his love even without words.

“But Lena. Do you trust his love? Do you think you can surpass the Goddess?”

Dennis’s provocation made Helena’s suppressed irritation surface on her face.

“Do you think I can’t surpass the illusion of the Goddess?”

“I don’t know. Even if he loves you, in the end, you might still be beneath the Goddess in his eyes.”

“Ha, that will never happen.”

“Is that so? Then why not make him swear his love for you in front of the Goddess?”

In the end, Helena fell for his provocation and gritted her teeth as she marched toward the chapel. Behind her, Dennis’s cheerful humming spread through the trees, as if he was enjoying himself.

The Goddess had always been a source of inferiority for her. From the moment she was born until the day she would die—and even after becoming a vampire—the enormous light of the Goddess constantly followed her. The brighter the light, the darker and longer the shadow it cast. Dennis knew this weakness of hers all too well.

Her gloomy footsteps eventually brought her to the treatment room, where Johann greeted her.

“Dr. Helena! A blessed morning to you under the grace of the Goddess.”

“Good morning, Priest Johann.”

The frown that had marred Helena’s face earlier was now gone, replaced by a polite smile that made her seem like a decent person. She couldn’t bring herself to speak of the Goddess’s grace, but she could at least pretend.

For some reason, many people had come to the treatment room early that morning, keeping Helena busy throughout the morning hours. Isaac, however, lingered nearby, making his presence known but never approaching her directly. Growing tired of waiting, Helena decided to take the initiative and approached Isaac, who was pacing in the hallway.

“Didn’t you miss me?”

“Ah… Helena….”

He no longer called her “Miss” or “Dr.” and instead addressed her by name. Helena stepped closer to Isaac and whispered into his ear.

“I missed you.”

A faint blush spread across Isaac’s previously somber face. Thump, thump. The pleasant sound of his heartbeat filled her with joy.

“I missed you too, but….”

As his expression darkened, Helena’s mood plummeted as well.

“Isaac. Are you free tonight? I have something I want to tell you in the prayer room.”

At Helena’s words, Isaac clasped her cold hand tightly.

“…Whatever it is, I’ll listen. Anything you have to say.”

He could never know how much comfort those words brought her. When Helena smiled at his kind words, Isaac smiled back at her.

Tonight, he had no idea what sorrow her words would bring him.

* * *

Late at night, when the entire village was deeply asleep, the chapel stood silent. Isaac sat alone in the prayer room, fervently offering his prayers.

“May she remain under Your blessing… May Your servant not waver in the face of wickedness….”

The sound of his voice echoed softly in the still room until the sharp clack of heels filled the air. The footsteps stopped near him, and someone took a seat a short distance away.

“What are you praying so earnestly for?”

Isaac turned to look at Helena, who had spoken to him. Her face overlapped perfectly with Ippolita’s in his old memories.

‘No matter how much a mother and daughter resemble each other, isn’t it strange for them to look exactly the same?’

‘Vampires neither age nor fall ill.’

Fred’s words and Ippolita’s words surfaced in his mind one after the other, causing him to clamp his lips shut mid-prayer. The vampire tales Ippolita had shared with him in his youth suddenly felt more vivid than ever.

‘The Holy Order says that the blood of vampires is stagnant, but it’s not stagnant—it flows slower than human blood. That’s why their skin is pale, and their bodies are colder than ours.’

The pallor of Helena’s cheeks and the chill that brushed against him whenever her body moved near sent Isaac’s heart pounding. He couldn’t tell if it was from fear, terror, or something else entirely.  

‘Vampires emit something called pheromones, which are said to enchant people!’  

‘They have a pleasant scent, like flowers luring bees.’  

Fred’s and Ippolita’s voices seemed to intertwine in his mind, but soon only Ippolita’s threatening tone remained.  

‘If you ever meet someone like that, little one, run. Run far away.’  

At the end of that memory, the scent of roses wafted from Helena. When Isaac didn’t answer her question, she asked again.  

“Isaac, what were you praying about?”  

“…That you aren’t…”  

At his incomplete sentence, Helena curled her lips into a crimson smile and gazed at him intently as he avoided her eyes.  

“What do you hope I’m not? Ippolita? Or… a vampire?”  

“…Please.”  

As he listened to her complete his thoughts aloud, Isaac clasped his praying hands tightly.  

“Ah, so they mean the same thing. If I’m Ippolita, that means I’m a vampire. Isn’t that right?”  

“…Tell me you’re not.”  

Though his mind had already concluded that she was a vampire, his heart desperately clung to even the slightest chance—just 10%—that she wasn’t.  

“What should I do? I am… ‘little one.’”  

The way she addressed him changed from “Isaac” to “little one,” just as Ippolita used to call him long ago.  

When Isaac finally met Helena’s gaze, her peculiar eyes glimmered with an otherworldly light.  

‘…They’re the same. Green eyes tinged with brown….’  

The moment he realized that Helena’s eyes were identical to Ippolita’s, his own soft green eyes trembled in stark contrast.  

“Even so… you still love me, don’t you, Isaac?”  

Her gentle, whispering voice nearly made him nod without realizing it. The fresh scent of roses seemed to grow stronger, and Isaac tried his best not to inhale it. Though, by now, it was already too late.  

“And… I still remember. You can’t hate me the way the Holy Order does.”  

Helena—or rather, Ippolita—spoke words that had once been part of their past conversations. Those words brought back a memory Isaac had never truly forgotten, a conversation that now rang clearly in his mind.  

‘That apostle eventually sold their soul to the devil and gained immortality. That’s how vampires came to be.’  

‘Ah! So that’s why the Holy Order hates vampires!’  

The young Isaac had eagerly responded to the story she told him. And Ippolita, for some reason, had smiled sadly as she asked him:  

‘That’s right. Will you be like them too, Isaac?’  

‘I’ll follow the will of the Goddess and become a priest. But….’  

In the faint memory that surfaced, Isaac recalled the words he had said next:  

‘But if you’re a vampire, Ippolita, then I won’t be able to do it. I like you too much, Ippolita.’  

Even back then, and even now as a priest, Isaac liked her—loved her—too much. That was why he couldn’t hate her, even if she was a vampire. Even if it went against the will of the Goddess.  

The priest’s robe he wore felt unbearably heavy, as though it was crushing him.  

“Why….”  

“Are you curious about why I became a vampire? Shall I tell you an old story?”  

At his sorrowful question, she, who had shifted from Ippolita back to Helena, gazed at the Goddess Statue and began recounting a story from long ago.