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DATE:4th of May, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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I ran to the nearest store to buy proper attire for the occasion. I didn't know what the Jock's sister would like so I went with the classic white shirt and jeans. The ones I got from John and the professor would surely repulse her.
I hurried back to the dorms to prepare. My other clothes were filthy from being too preoccupied with the party, so I channeled this surge of motivation into hauling them down to the dorm's laundry room for a wash.
The room was tucked away in the basement, equipped with about ten washing machines and five dryers.
While I was waiting for the machine to finish its job, Alice came down looking for me. She said the teachers were summoned for an emergency meeting. But I couldn't care. I had a date with... What was her name again?
No, in the first place, why should I even care about some jock's sister? No... never mind! I must present myself well, no matter what.
All this for a date huh...
I went with Alice to the Dean's office still dressed in my sweaty jogging gear. I didn't expect this 'urgent meeting'.
The Dean was very concerned and talked about this morning's events as if a meteor hit our city.
I suppose it was normal considering they didn't know it was me who did it.
The damage wasn't unrepairable, but she didn't want to call a team of workers. Something about the local legislation and how this could be a team building exercise... Blah blah blah. Just admit you are stingy.
Anyway, the work was divided between the teachers. Alice and I were put in charge of investigating what needs to be repaired. Excuse me? After all the work I did for her party? I pulled Zilliam to the side and she said it was because "She thought me and Alice needed some time together". Hello? What exactly is this about? Did the girl put her to it? It really angered me.
Alice was the opposite. When we left the meeting she only talked about how great it was that we could search for that key's purpose. I gave it to her to shut her up. Does she actually care about it?
She wanted us to look at the library for more clues, but I had the excuse that I had to pick my laundry so I left… Is what I wanted to do, but Alice just followed me.
Defeated, I put the clothes in the dryer and went exploring with her.
Of course we didn't find anything.
She then came up with an idea. " Why not ask Zilliam about it?" Genius, I thought.
But when we presented the key to her, the Dean fell silent. She was clearly surprised and insisted we hand it over so she could protect it. I didn't really care, but Alice seemed oddly suspicious of Zilliam's reaction. Wasn't she supposed to be her motherly figure? Why second-guess someone so close? Of course, the same could be said about my own false identity.
Alice said we should steal it back, and by 'we' she meant me. Apparently, she had been peeking at my training regimen, so she knew I was capable of it. It's a mystery how she hasn't realized I don't care about her at all, especially if she paid that much attention.
The plan was simple: I'd take a dose, slip inside to retrieve the key—maybe peek at some documents—then get out. A moronic idea if I do say so myself, straight from her expertise.
I warned the girl that it would be obvious who took the key if it vanished right after our talk, but she kept fretting about how Zilliam might stash it somewhere else if we dragged our feet. I proposed a middle ground: I'd slip it back at night, before she left the school grounds. She called me ingenious, but I was still uneasy. The Zilliams must be a powerful clan. Hopefully, five hours would be enough for her to forget all about me..
I was debating whether to go with the cocaine or caffeine, but judging from the drawbacks, the professor's mysterious substance was safer.
Of course, I wasn't too happy about drugging myself three days in a row, but Alice wouldn't leave me alone if I didn't get the key and I still had a date tonight.
After retrieving my clothes from the dryer and arranging them neatly in my room, we continued the survey and realized there was little that truly needed fixing—at least, that's what Alice thought. She was a moron.
What she failed to notice was the crack in the building's foundation that I'd spotted. But I'll be gone in a few months anyway, so why volunteer for unpaid labor?
I spent the rest of my free hours taking a nap because I didn't have anything better to do, before brushing up. I saw myself in the mirror, cleaning my teeth. I was smiling. For who?
It was then that I realized the lack of instructions. Was I just supposed to look around the old city center? I didn't even know what his sister looked like.
And why do I even care about meeting her. Me? Something was strange, but I didn't know what.
Then I looked back into the mirror. Me? Smiling? For someone I didn't know? Something was wrong, very much so. Was I under the effects of a spell? I can't explain it otherwise.
Looks like my date just got more complicated.
I barely remembered to go to the Dean's office before leaving. Alice reminded me that Zilliam was looking at some library registries so it was a good time to go inside.
I drank a dose, covered my hands with some latex gloves and breathed in after I got to a nearby dead zone. I needed to be quick so that the camera wouldn't pick up even one frame of footage.
I've been here multiple times already, but I still immediately feel the shift in atmosphere. The air is different here—charged, almost suffocating. My footsteps sound louder than usual against the stone floor, echoing slightly in the vast space.
The light is dim, but not dark. Sunlight filters in through tall, arched windows, casting streaks of gold across the floor and walls, making the space feel both vast and intimate at once. I can see dust motes hanging in the air, caught in the shafts of light, swirling slowly like the weight of time itself. I imagine this place would be even more unbearable at night.
Hopefully I don't get found out.
The walls are lined with bookshelves that stretch to the ceiling, filled with old, leather-bound volumes. Some are so ancient that the spines are cracked and the titles have long since faded. Others look newer but no less serious. I feel their weight, too, as if each one holds more than just words—like they carry the very foundation of the school and its purpose. They may interest Alice, but I have no time to read them. It would also be idiotic to leave evidence of any bad behavior out in the open.
In the middle of the room, a large desk dominates the space. It is opposed by a long desk, the one we use for meetings.
Both of them are made of dark, polished wood, yet worn in places from years of use. I guess not even the hard wood of Kazo is eternal. There are papers scattered across it, organized chaos, along with an array of odd objects— things confiscated from students? The chair behind the main desk is imposing, large enough to seem almost throne-like, but somehow worn with the familiarity of everyday use.
As I take another step inside, I catch sight of portraits on the walls—past Zilliams, I'm guessing. Their eyes seem to follow me as I move, like silent observers, weighing and judging. But they have no right to judge me.There's an undeniable gravity here, the sense that every decision made within these walls ripples out into the world, affecting countless lives. The thought doesn't concern me at all.
Then there's the fireplace. It's off to the side, cleaned. It hasn't been used since winter.
Anyway, the key is probably in her desk so I start to look inside the many drawers.
There was a lot of meaningless paper I wouldn't go through, but no key. Could the Dean be holding onto the key? I don't think so.
There must be some kind of secret shelf nearby. I'm not the best at these things, but it's not my first time using my power to infiltrate an office. When hunting for hidden levers, the key is to watch for deformities in the surrounding wood.
These objects are usually made symmetrical so any change is a dead give-away. On each side of the desk were small sculptures of gryphons, the Zenik logo. I could feel the left one's head sticking out slightly, but I couldn't push it inside. This must mean there was another step I needed to take beforehand.
Then I started looking at the desk itself.
Beside the paper stood a large ornamental candle. A candle in this day and age? I tried to lift it, but it was secured to the desk by some clever mechanism. It allowed rotation, at least. Unsure how far to turn it, I leaned in close, pressing my ear against it, and began fiddling carefully.
Such a beginner's technique wouldn't work on a modern mechanism, but the old construction—with its obvious signs of wear—meant the inner metal was worn just enough to crank and reveal sounds. I rotated the candle until it met the least resistance, then pressed the gryphon.
A hidden panel clicked open above the gryphon, revealing a shallow compartment lined with trinkets—faded documents, an unsealed letter, and the oddly shaped key.
I slipped the key into my pocket, then unfolded the letter; the archaic dialect meant nothing to me, but it might keep Alice busy—and out of my way—for days.
After sealing the drawer, I slipped out of the office with barely a breath to spare.
In the camera's blind spot I peeled off the latex gloves, stuffed them deep into my pockets, and headed back to the dorms.
The Dean would never suspect a thing.
I handed Alice the key and the letter ignoring her incessant questions. She was taking this too seriously.
Anyway, I arranged my hair before slipping into my night attire and heading out for my date. I couldn't wait!
On the way to the city center I came across a jewelry store. Perhaps I should buy the lady something? Or so I thought...
There were many pieces on display, but my eyes were caught on a set of two, a sword and shield made out of silver. They were Soo~ pretty. I am sure the lady would like this! I bought them without a second thought even though they cost me 500 Zols. It was all worth it, right?
By 10:30 I arrived at the old city center of Cordon. The streets are cobbled with newly placed stone, with no reminder of the old paths that covered the area. The air smells of stone, earth, and a hint of woodsmoke, yet there wasn't anything classic about this place. Everything was either new or renovated.
At the heart of the square, a grand fountain stands, a statue of a man in its center. Was it the founder of Cordon? I'm sure he wouldn't be proud to have his estate swallowed by the old city he left.
The water trickles down in a soothing melody, adding a serene backdrop to the bustle around it. There is no moss or age visible on this ancient structure, a testament to how well it was kept. Cordon de Mau was a rich man. Extremely rich.
Surrounding the square are buildings that tell their own stories. Tall, narrow houses and shops, with facades of stone or brick, all prime real estate in the best shape. The architecture is a blend of different eras, with Renaissance arches over windows, Gothic spires atop churches, it was nothing like the skyscrapers of Concord. The windows of the older buildings are small, with thick, wavy glass that reflects the sun in irregular patterns, no doubt the most expensive on the market.
At one corner, the reinforced clock tower rises high above the square, its ancient bell marking the hour with a deep, resonant chime that echoes through the narrow streets.
People move fast through the square, all acting foreign with each other. This isn't a small community anymore. The cafes and taverns have Crystal tables guarded inside the brick walls. Surely an eye to behold.
The atmosphere is eerie, almost silent if not for the sound of high heels and boots from the passers-by. No musician is allowed inside Cordon, a decree of the old lord de Mau.
Everywhere you look, the city center feels dead, a passing reminder of what used to be. It was as if the recent lords have sold the heart of the city for material gain. Orrrr....-
Then I spotted her.
Seated at an outdoor café chair in front of the old city hall, the elegantly dressed girl stood out immediately, exuding an effortless grace that felt natural rather than contrived.
Her form was enveloped in layers of black lace and velvet, with a long, flowing skirt that brushed the ground as she moved.
The fabric flowed with an unnatural fluidity, subtly catching the light to reveal its rich texture while perpetually shrouded in shadow, as if the darkness itself clung to her.
Her skin is porcelain pale, almost translucent, but not in a sickly way—more like marble, smooth and unblemished. It contrasts sharply with her jet-black hair, which cascades down in soft waves, framing her face like a veil. A few strands fall over her high cheekbones, brushing against her lips, which are painted in a deep, blood-red shade that seems too bold for anyone else but perfect on her.
Her eyes are what draw me in the most. They're large, almond-shaped, and framed by thick, dark lashes, but there's something strange about them—something intense. The irises seem a shade too dark, almost like they absorb light rather than reflect it. When she looks at me, it's hard to look away, almost as if my attention was trapped. The spell!
She wears a black corset with intricate platinum details, cinched tightly around her small waist, accentuating her slender frame. Around her neck is an antique-looking choker, made of delicate black lace, with a small platinum pendant in the shape of an ornate cross. Platinum? What a choice of metal? Why not silver? Unless....
Long, fingerless gloves cover her arms, the lacework matching the rest of her outfit, exposing only her pale fingers, tipped with nails painted the same deep crimson as her lips.
Her presence is quiet, almost serene, as if she's part of the background despite her striking appearance. Yet she gives attention only to me. She moves gracefully, with a sense of purpose, but at a slower pace, as though time itself bends to her will. Like myself?
Something about her makes me feel a chill, similar to ...Her... . She's captivating, alluring, but there's a shadow that follows her, a subtle sense of danger that lingers in the back of my mind. But for now, I shake it off—after all, she's my date for tonight, right?
"You. I remember you!" She got close and grabbed me playfully by the shirt's collar.
"Why so serious? I liked the polka shirt more..." I couldn't respond as a strange sense of timidity came over me. Me? That is not natural.
"Come. Why don't you sit with me?" The lady seated herself again and pointed to her lap, but I strangely didn't mind it. This is something I would have punched her for otherwise I knew it. I surely was under some kind of ability. Yet I got on her lap and with cold hands she started caressing my cheek. Her nails were pointy, sharpened yet with masterful dexterity she didn't leave any mark on face.
"It feels like you have great burdens. Why don't you tell me what is on your mind."
No! What is this? She wants to know what I did to UltraMan? I won't tell her. I never will! To anyone. Not even if I am killed. But, I can't resist. Her eyes pierce my mind and it is as if the information comes out by itself, like a wooden raft deep in the ocean. Yet I knew more than she thought. Before she got her way, I decided to open my mouth myself.
"I fear... That you will kill me."
She was left in disbelief. Who would even react like that? From all she knew I was under her grasp.
While that was true, I am experienced enough to know that a special ability often means death. Heroes are not always good. With a concerned shrug, she turned my face to look better at hers.
Then her eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and I lost all sense of myself.
She pressed her ethereal lips to mine in a kiss that drained every ounce of strength from my body, leaving me numb but not limp.
She commanded me to rise from her lap and follow her, and my limbs obeyed without hesitation—my own body moving as if it were no longer mine.
Yet I remained fully conscious, trapped in the agony of it all, an unnatural torment like drifting between death and forced lucidity, far worse than any seizure.
If her intent was true control, she must not have realized I'd feel every excruciating moment.
Was it from the drugs I took beforehand? It hurt. It hurt so much. I was limp like a marionette, but at the same time I could feel my muscles being dragged forcefully by her unsightly ability. It was as if she was ripping them out with every order. She took me inside some apartment building in the city center... I couldn't even focus to see the number.
She got me on a bed and undressed me.
Her movements had lost all grace, replaced by the clumsy ferocity of a starved beast, and I felt every sharp pierce of her hardened nails digging into my skin.
When she finished with me, she began laying out that gothic outfit, piece by piece.
I tried to rise, but my body refused—devoid of any strength, reduced to a passive observer trapped within itself.
Never had I felt so utterly powerless, though perhaps I had... back then.
The lady eyed me with a greedy, insatiable hunger.
Her intentions were obvious from the frantic haste with which she undressed.
Was it rape she craved? No—those long, razor-sharp nails; her ethereal, otherworldly aura; the icy chill that radiated from her like a grave's breath.
She felt just like ...Her... But the lady wasn't a ghost. Was she a ghoul? A vampire perhaps?
Now clad only in intricate black-braided underwear, she straddled me and leaned close to my face.
Drool dripped from her mouth, revealing rows of jagged teeth that gleamed unnaturally.
Was she a cannibal intent on devouring me?
She tilted toward my neck, fangs bared and ready to strike, but in that instant—terrified for my life—my body instinctively inhaled, and time froze.
She hovered mere centimeters from ending me.
In this slowed time her control had no way of keeping me affected. Was it based on hormones? In any case, I was too fast for her.
Even with my strength returning, I couldn't shove her off—her physical power dwarfed mine, and without the wild rush of caffeine fueling my defiance, I was defenseless.
How could I possibly defend myself against a fiend like her? This was a deadly predicament.
I recalled that morning's warning from the girl, the one I'd foolishly dismissed. What had she called this woman? A vampire?
I don't have anything on me that could hurt a vampire. Anything except.... The jewelry!
I wasn't sure if silver would affect this kind—perhaps her power stemmed from some innate ability rather than a demonic pact as in traditional folklore, though that might be exactly why it could work.
Why else would she favor jewelry and intricate details wrought in something as heavy and cumbersome as platinum?
In her frenzy, she flung my clothes to the floor.
I couldn't budge from the bed, her slick grip clamping my arm like a vice, but I strained to twist toward the discarded pile as best I could.
The harder I fought, the deeper her nails sank into my flesh, searing pain that made it difficult to catch my breath—but losing control now would spell my end.
I couldn't afford to die here.
I pushed through the searing pain and stretched toward my coat, finally grasping it between my teeth while pressing it against the vampire's face.
I rummaged in the pocket for the gift packet; it tumbled out onto the shirt, but with time still halted, I snatched it mid-air without effort.
The box was swaddled in gift paper and secured with tight bands—no chance of tearing it free by hand.
A chill raced through me as I recalled the vampire straddling me, her skin unnaturally cold like polished marble.
I shoved the box into her gaping mouth and yanked it apart using her razor-sharp fangs—the irony of it all.
Gripping the blade-shaped necklace, I prayed it wouldn't snap and dragged its edge deep into her carotid artery, slashing multiple gashes along the vital vessel.
Then, twisting lower, I stabbed repeatedly at her femoral artery, the blade plunging without bending—proof that even the jewelry in Cordon was forged to superior standards.
The ideal next move would have been to pierce her aorta for a killing blow, but the blade was too short to reach, so I abandoned the attempt.
I snatched the pillow from under me and crammed it into her mouth, shoving it deeper toward her throat.
I heaved myself up, locking my hand around her neck in a vise-like chokehold with our faces parallel, then intertwined my legs around her waist to pin her down.
Finally, I released my breath.She erupted in screams of raw pain, bleating like a slaughtered lamb, but the irony of it all only amused me.
I couldn't hold back laughter as she hemorrhaged in my grip. Even her blood was cold.
Shivering as I recovered from the trauma, I still couldn't stop laughing—choking on my own ragged breaths while the vampire clawed futilely at my back, desperate to pry me off.
I howled like a maniac, gripping what was rapidly becoming a lifeless cadaver in my hands.At last, she went limp, but I held fast, submerged in a bath of her blood.
I didn't let go until I'd counted ten full minutes, by which point the blood had started to dry and crust on me, so I shoved her aside.
She cut my hand quite a bit, it was pulsating from the pain, but I was numb.
Not like how she got mehere, I was numb internally.
I looked at the naked vampire with an empty expression.
What was this terrible choice of action? Why did she try to pull this off in Cordon? Judging by how that girl talked in the morning this was a scheme started even before the death of UltraMan.
Did she think she would get away with it?
With so many heroes around?
Thinking about it, the fact that she got away for so long stands clear that she would have escaped with her crimes.
Yet she met me. Ironic.
An assassin did what the heroes couldn't.
I went to take a shower in her own bathroom. It took me quite a while to get rid of the blood.
A pretty gruesome scene if I do say so, but it wasn't like panic came over. For better or worse I was a professional.
Careful not to touch anything, latex gloves slipped on first.
A quick scan revealed bandages in a kitchen emergency kit—likely from one of her victims, as the lady had no need for them.The bleeding left arm wrapped securely, scratches on the back disinfected next.
I wrapped my bleeding left arm and disinfected the scratches on my back.
Then, dressing in my mostly intact shirt and jeans, I pocketed the jewelry and headed back to the dorm.
Hmmm… what else to do? Obviously getting rid of her body. But I was too tired to finish the job so I left the door ajar, knowing I'd have to return tomorrow.
I just caught a villain.
No…
I've just killed a villain...
I returned to the dorm and went to the nurse's office to replace my bandages. Being on the school grounds, my phone received a signal again and started crying horribly. Who put this ringtone? It was some kind of pop. Looking at the screen, Alice was calling. Obviously.
"Will. Will! Are you alright? I didn't find you anywhere. Where are you? Nevermind, I saw. I am coming!" What did she mean, she 'saw'? Did this device have a gps when I specifically asked not to receive one with it?
No, otherwise she would have seen me at the lady's lair. It was probably something about the Academy Wi-fi.
Alice saw me bandaging myself and jumped closer in a fit of worry.
"Will! What happened?"
I debated how much I should tell this emotional girl, but I was starting to lose consciousness from the drug overuse, so I spilled the beans regarding having been attacked. I left the stripping part out as this girl would overthink the matter. She wanted to immediately go find the villain, but I explained that it was gone. That wasn't technically a lie.
Even still, my words didn't reassure her as she was impatiently looking around the medical room. Some kind of impulse?
I had no idea at what her concern was directed, so I took the bloody, scratched box and handed it to her. The shield jewelry was left untouched.
" You... You got attacked while buying me this? Will, I don't know what to say!" I also don't. Where did she get this idea?
For all she knew the brand may just be something I found at the villain's place.
"Will.... Thank you!" She sat next to my seat and gave me a peck on the cheek. After all that happened, I felt like puking from such a gesture, but I kept it in.
"Can you... Help me put it?" She's really testing my patience, isn't she? Alice turned around and raised her hair a little.
I personally don't know why as her frills were barely covering her neck. Whatever. I secured it and let go of the jewelry.
"T-hank you so much." Alice had a strong blush on her face yet I felt empty. No, less than that.
With a tired voice, I decided to stop staying silent.
"Could you... Help me get to the dorms?"
"Y-yes! Of course. Give me your shoulder." Prompted on the strangely powerful girl I arrived at my room where a still broken door decorated my entrance.
"You k-know, you can sleep in my room... if you…want of course!" She glanced at me and got even red-er before looking away.
"I'll take the guest room, that is the least I can do."
"Shouldn't I take the guest room if we were to think about it?" Seriously, in what reality does this girl think herself into?
"But there's no need for that. I'll just sleep with the broken door tonight."
"No, how could you? It would be a crime against your intimacy." You are a crime against my intimacy.
"I'm too exhausted to discuss this right now. Please help me get into bed."
"O...okay..." With a hint of disappointment in her voice, Alice assisted me onto the bed before we exchanged goodnights.
Just as she got around the corner, I let my eyes close and fell asleep.
That night I was back in the void.