Mistaken for a Masked Munchkin

Vulgar Slaughter, Cowardly Survival (4)

Elsewhere.

The control room at the heart of the human farm.

The place that commanded every atrocity committed in this underground space.

Inside that dim room stood a single vampire.

"Hm-hm~ hmm, hm-hmm~"

A cheerful hum.

His hips swayed in time with the tune, side to side without a care in the world.

The vampire was thoroughly pleased with himself.

Both hands moved busily, picking up tools and setting them back down over and over. When they got dirty, he rinsed them with clean water.

"Good, good... I've got a good feeling about today."

Satisfaction written all over his face.

The scene was so mundane it was almost drowsy.

That was how things stood, the vampire lost in his hobby, when the door flew open.

Bang!

"Director!"

Another vampire burst into the room.

The man, deep in his work, frowned.

Annoyed at having his concentration shattered.

"I thought I made it perfectly clear... no one was to enter while I was working."

"I-I'm sorry! But this couldn't wait,!"

"Do you want to die?"

"N-n-no, sir! I've committed a sin worthy of death!"

"Haah... fine. What is it? What's gone wrong now? Did someone cause a scene?"

He bit it back and let it go.

The director, as he was called, kept his fingers on the tools laid out in front of him. That alone was enough to make the vampire across from him break into a cold sweat.

"It, it's an invasion! Enemies have attacked the farm!"

"What? Did we spring a leak somewhere? How did they find this place?"

"I don't know. More to the point, those people have already taken down nearly twenty of our men,!"

"Taken down? Vampires who've been gorging themselves on human blood? Did an entire knight order march in?"

"N-no! Nothing like that..."

"Then what? How large is the enemy force?"

"Two, sir! We believe it's one human and one vamp..."

Burst!

Before the words were out, the vampire's head exploded like a balloon.

Blood manipulation. The director had twisted the bloodstream inward and detonated it from inside.

Brain matter scattered in every direction.

"......"

Thud.

The body crumpled to the floor.

The director looked down at it, eyes cold.

Like something he couldn't understand. Something fit for the trash.

"Just two? And twenty of my men went down to a human?"

Tsk.

He clicked his tongue.

"Worthless bastards. All that blood they've been gulping down, and they can't handle one unexpected situation."

Not worth the feeding.

A long, aggravated breath.

Half the irritation was for his incompetent underlings, the other half for the intruders themselves. They had interrupted him right in the middle of something enjoyable.

"Every last one of them is useless."

He set down his tools.

Rose from his chair.

"Always cleaning up someone else's shit. Every time."

Twitch.

He kicked the chair aside. Something on the table stirred, a broken life clinging to the thinnest thread, struggling with everything it had left.

A lump of raw red flesh, laid out on the table.

"And it was just getting to the good part."

Art.

The director's artistic hobby.

It had once been human, but it had been ruined past the point of recognition. Skin peeled away, organs removed, the heart laid fully bare.

The most horrifying part: it was still alive.

A refined pastime.

"I'll finish the rest when I get back."

More of them stood arranged before that central piece. Identical figures, lined up like exhibits. The director gazed over the gallery he had built with something like fondness. Then he turned and walked out of the control room.

"Hm... that said, if the intruders have managed this much, they must be fairly capable. I should have heard more before silencing him."

He pulled a heavy bottle from his coat.

Whatever had been in it before was long gone. Now it held nothing but human blood.

He popped the stopper and drank it down in one go.

Gulp, gulp.

Blood running down his throat and spreading through every vein.

His taste buds rang sharp, and a wave of dizzy pleasure crashed in right after.

Every cell in his body felt like it was waking up at once.

The source of his power, stirring and rising.

"Hrk... doesn't matter."

In his current state, he wouldn't lose to anyone.

The director was not an ordinary vampire.

Pureblood lineage ran through him, faint but real. A collateral branch of the royal family, somewhere down his line.

Twice as strong as other vampires, and now brimming with human blood on top of that.

"I might catch them and make them into a piece."

He couldn't imagine losing.

He walked on, still humming.

"Hm, hmm~"

He didn't anticipate it, though.

That he would never pick up his tools again.

***

He stepped out of the control room and walked the long corridor.

Before long, his footsteps stopped.

As though he'd spotted something.

"......Oh."

Across the corridor.

Standing right there was the very person he had been looking for.

"Didn't expect you to come find me first."

"......"

A human.

A boy wearing a grotesque mask.

Interest flickered in the director's eyes.

"Strange."

He had been told the boy was dangerous, but he felt nothing from him at all. No mana, no sorcery, no dark energy, not even the faintest trace. Not even a hint of muscle on his frame.

Frail. Feeble.

The jester spoke first.

"Pleased to meet you."

"You're greeting me... so I suppose I've got the right person."

"Probably. If you were looking for the intruder, that would be me."

"Figured as much. Your presence was so faint I almost second-guessed myself."

"I get that a lot."

Weak.

The one thing that did catch his attention was the weapon in the boy's hand. A silver dagger gleaming like it had been soaked in divine energy.

That must have been what cut through his men.

"Good grief... my lot, beaten by something like that?"

His brow creased.

No matter how he looked at it, the boy was nothing but a brat leaning on a decent weapon.

"Hm."

He looked around.

A thick smell of char hung in the corridor. Across the floor, several vampires lay scattered, arms and legs severed, eyes burned shut, nothing but a thread of life remaining. The kind of sight that made you think death would have been kinder.

"Ha... quite a fiery taste you've got."

It came out light, almost playful.

His red eyes were measuring the boy.

'Well... even if the weapon's something, I don't think he pulled all this off on his own.'

Right, the intruders numbered two. The other one was a vampire, he'd been told.

So that was the real threat.

This boy was the errand runner. The vampire was the brains.

'I'll put this one down first. The other will show up on their own.'

Until then, he could take his time.

He'd been interrupted during his leisure, after all. He had no intention of letting the boy die quietly.

The director walked forward with an easy, unhurried stride.

"I'll play with you for a bit, kid."

"Wonderful. I've been wanting to talk to you anyway."

"Oh?"

"You're the director, aren't you. The one who oversees this entire farm."

"My, my. They really told you everything."

"Very helpfully. Every detail."

"Honestly... useless bastards, every last one." He laughed, short and dry.

Slowly rolling his fist closed, he threw a question at the jester.

"I've got something I'm curious about too... where did your companion go?"

"I asked them to handle something else. I decided I'd face you alone."

"Kid. Confidence is a fine thing, but too much of it turns into poison."

"It's not exactly confidence."

"Then what is it?"

"I just didn't want them to see. It's going to be a fairly gruesome sight, I think. My master always puts on a strong front, but she's actually quite delicate. So I'd rather she only see the good parts."

"Pfft... gruesome? You think this is going to be gruesome? What exactly are you planning to do?"

The director laughed.

"Your head's come completely loose. Spouting nonsense like that with a straight face."

"Haha, maybe so."

Perfectly calm.

The director shifted his weight forward, slow and deliberate.

He was just about ready to knock the boy down and pull out his organs.

"Kid, you're not in a position to puff out your chest here. Especially not when all you've got is one decent weapon."

"Oh dear, you've seen through me. I was laying it on a bit thick, I admit..."

"It's fine. I'll make you one of my pieces."

Crash!

A light push off the ground.

The force was enough to crater the floor beneath his foot.

At the same moment, his body launched forward like an arrow.

Shriek!

Tearing through the air. A shape appearing in an instant.

Right in front of the boy's face.

"Die!!"

His fist shot out.

The jester didn't react. Just stood there.

The punch was about to connect. The boy's face was about to shatter.

Right then, the director was sure of it.

Click.

A small sound.

"......?"

The director's fist veered wide.

No, "veered" was too modest a word for it.

The trajectory had shifted entirely, as though something had shoved it aside.

Whoosh!

His fist carved through empty air.

Nothing but the rush of displaced wind.

'What...?'

A moment of confusion.

The jester hadn't moved.

All he had done was swing his hand lightly to one side.

With no strength behind it at all.

Like someone waving away a feather. Loose and drifting.

"Ha."

A hollow laugh.

He'd missed, he told himself. Not deflected, just missed. A movement like that couldn't possibly have stopped his strike.

"Maybe I'm getting old... my body won't follow orders anymore. Making a stupid mistake like that."

"I wonder if it really was a mistake."

"Quiet, would you? That kind of luck doesn't come twice."

He balled his fist again.

No holding back this time. He drove his full strength into it, a punch so ferocious it kicked up a spray of blood just from the force, and aimed it straight at the jester.

And yet.

Click.

"What...?"

Same thing.

A punch that slid right past the boy.

His fist landed nothing.

The grin on his lips went stiff.

"Looks like luck came twice."

"......"

The jester said it lightly, not a trace of tension in his voice.

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