Chapter 32

“Just call me Mago.”

“Right, Magogo.”

“No, not Magogo—just Mago. Who’d have a name like that?”

“Only joking, Mago. Give me a hand with the cargo.”

“Yes, Madam.”

I followed her to the luggage compartment.

“The other wagons are late because they took the usual route? Or maybe ‘late’ isn’t the word— you simply got here faster on your own.”

“Yes, Madam. Ignoring one wagon is easy, but two... my cousin would have been in trouble, so I stopped.”

“Good call. Getting waved through the checkpoint is already a huge win.”

“Madam Anne, what’s inside the barrels...?”

“Wine. Just wine.”

“If it’s only wine, why dodge the checkpoint?”

“The Empire loathes this street, the whole red-light district. They want to choke my growth. Every month they cap the liquor quota; anything over that is barred. But I can’t just shut shop—can’t cut back either. It’s money.”

“Ah, so that’s why...”

“Anyway, we got it through—lucky. No telling about the other wagons.”

I set an orc barrel down near the entrance of Madam Anne’s new premises.

“You’ve done well. An inside man in the Imperial Army—family, no less. Let’s keep this partnership alive, Mago.”

“Thank you.”

I ferried the rest of the barrels inside.

“Mago, ever worked in a place like this before? Word is you’re quick for someone so green.”

“Not a store. I was a house slave—maid, really.”

“Hmm? Still for sale, then?”

She flicked a finger toward me.

Being treated as merchandise felt ancient—until it wasn’t.

“No. Not anymore.”

I dug into my pocket and produced a wooden tag: a pair of overlapped wings.

Kinjo’s gift—the Mark of a Free Person.

“Sorry I pried.”

“It’s fine. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“They say you handle all the heavy lifting—famous for ‘horse muscle.’ Mind if I test?”

Her hand drifted toward my chest.

I clenched a secret fist—twist her wrist if she pushed...

“Kidding.”

Anne shrugged.

“You can drive, you’re strong, and you’ve got friends in uniform. Handy package.”

“How so?”

“Mago, ever seen the Third Floor?”

“No. You told me not to go above Second, and I’ve never helped with the lock-up.”

“Lock-up? Right, not yet. Don’t worry about that.”

“Saying that only makes me worry. I want to help.”

“Really, don’t. Later.”

Anne’s face hardened; she was clearly hiding whatever happened after closing.

“Then what about Third and Fourth? May I go up?”

“Still no. Fresh blood doesn’t get upper-floor duties.”

Even after today’s success, that rule looked immovable.

Anne liked me, but the upper floors were a different world.

“Want Third Floor privileges? Work harder!”

She slapped my back lightly.

“Still, I’ve a mind to give you Third-Floor work...”

“What kind?”

She glanced at the carriage.

“After we close. I’d like you to drive certain guests home.”

“You want me to drive?”

“More or less. Not the luggage wagon— a proper passenger carriage. Third-Floor patrons leave dead drunk, can’t even stand. That floor is...

“...for customers who want something wild.”

“Exactly. They stumble straight into the street, get robbed, worse... security nightmare. If Anakonda’s rumored to police the whole quarter, our reputation soars. We need our own private coachman.”

“You want me for that.”

“Bingo. Good coachmen are scarce, and here you are.”

“Just say the word.”

“You’ll earn a extra fee for every ride— I’ll cut you in.”

“Thank you.”

“Start tonight.”

* * *

“Where to, sir?”

The wagon had changed: two horses, a proper passenger cab behind the driver’s seat.

My first fare: a tall black-haired man.

“Sir?”

“Huuu...”

Too far gone to speak clearly.

“Your address?”

“One-forty... forty-ninth street...”

I checked the map spread across my lap— the whole red-light district in one glance.

“Got it.”

I flicked the reins and we rolled into the night.

While I drove, I tossed every question I could think of at him.

How often did he come to Anakonda?

What kind of liquor did he favor?

Was he close to Madam Anne?

What did he think of her?

The questions spilled out, but no answers came back.

He was completely out of it—looked like he’d drunk enough to split his skull.

In the end I reached his house knowing nothing more than when I’d started.

It was smaller than I’d expected: a two-story building set so far down an alley that the Main Gate could only be reached by leaving the cab. The passage was too narrow for the wagon, so I halted at the mouth of the alley.

“Sir, we’re here.”

“Nghhh...”

I climbed down and opened the passenger door myself. I wanted him out on the threshold and gone.

I hadn’t pried out a single scrap of information; conversation had been impossible. I hauled him upright.

“We’re here. That’s your house, right?”

He nodded without a word.

When his head dipped, the collar of his jacket shifted.

The back of his neck came into view.

“...What the hell.”

Two dark pits.

Marks that looked as if something had bored right in—two neat holes.

I leaned closer.

Vampire fangs.

The exact spot a fang would pierce, complete with dried bloodstains.

Whoever did it had aimed for the perfect feeding site.

“Sir?”

The moment I spoke, his legs buckled.

He almost knelt in the dirt; I caught him and propped him up again.

I dragged him to the gate and more or less dumped him there.

“All right, inside with you.”

“Yeah...”

His hands were slow but practiced; he found the key on his own.

“Coming back to Anakonda tomorrow?”

“Uh-huh...”

I waited only long enough to see the key slide home and turn, then walked away.

One-forty–forty-ninth. I memorized the address.

* * *

I headed straight back to Anakonda; another fare was waiting.

“It wasn’t drunkenness. It was anemia.”

He’d been bled.

Up on the Third Floor.

“The Vampires who work Anakonda drink their fill up there—human blood.”

That was why I was never allowed past the second landing.

I was human.

My eyes weren’t red.

Permission had never been given.

Yet the man had said he’d return tomorrow.

“Doesn’t look like it was taken by force.”

If it hadn’t been taken, then he’d gone up willingly—paid for the privilege of being dinner.

A customer who should have been paid for food and drink had instead paid with his own blood.

“Which means he must have gotten something in return...”

Something worth bleeding for.

I ferried four more passengers that night.

None of them could hold a coherent thought.

Five in all, counting the first.

I eased each collar aside and checked the nape.

Every single one bore fang marks.

My shift was finished.

I drove south to the inn I’d been using and locked the door the instant I stepped inside.

On the bunk lay the navy raincoat given to me by an Imperial Soldier.

Inside the half-open angular case rested the Red Sword.

The time to use it had come.

Time to ask my questions face-to-face.

* * *

Before the next shift began at Anakonda.

I stopped first at the carriage parked beside the building.

Passenger compartment.

Beneath the seat I’d hidden two things: the raincoat, folded as small as it would go, and the Red Sword, rolled in the inn’s white curtain. Squatting, I made sure nothing showed unless you already knew where to look.

I worked the shift in a daze.

Closing time crept closer.

“Bye, Mago. See you tomorrow.”

My senior waved.

“You’re leaving me to walk alone again?”

“Better to go first when you’re alone, right?”

While we talked, Madam Anne came down to the first floor.

“Mago, good work. Well—just a little more, please. I’m asking again tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I stepped outside.

As she’d said, the coachman job wasn’t over.

I waited for yesterday’s man.

He’d said he’d come to Anakonda again today.

“Home again, sir?”

As expected, he climbed into the carriage.

He looked exactly the same: dragging each breath, answering in mumbles, body too heavy to move.

140, then 49 again.

“Sir, we’re here.”

I pulled him out at his own gate.

Today, again, I had to haul him free.

He shook his head hard, trying to clear it, but it didn’t help.

His neck—

The punctures behind it hadn’t even scabbed; they looked freshly bitten.

Two nights in a row.

He staggered into the alley.

I slipped into the passenger seat, drew on the hidden raincoat, wrapped the cloth-dried sword in my hand, and yanked the hood low.

Then I followed, slow and quiet.

“...Raining...?”

He flicked me a glance and lifted his right palm to feel for drops.

“It’s not raining.”

“Then why the coat...?”

I pulled the hood lower.

A pre-dawn alley.

I shoved him deeper between the walls and spoke.

“Answer what I ask.”

“Wh-what...”

I unwrapped the cloth. The Red Sword glinted.

Still sheathed, I pressed it under his chin.

“Why did you go to Anakonda?”

“W-wait a minute—”

He flapped a hand.

“Answer.”

“Anakonda...?”

“Third floor, Anakonda.”

“Well... obviously to drink...”

“You spent more time pouring than swallowing.”

“H-how did you—”

“Ready to talk?”

“I—I can’t... I can’t say...”

I pretended to draw. I couldn’t actually free the blade from the scabbard, but—

“Eek...!”

It worked. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bolt past me.

I snatched his collar and slammed him to the ground.

“Ghk...!”

“I asked why you gave blood to a vampire.”

I pressed the scabbard tip against his chest.

“Hah... hah...”

“Vampires don’t drink their own. Why feed a vampire human blood?”

“B-blood was just... payment...”

The Coster family motto floated up.

Blood is the price.

The price comes from the demon.

“Payment?”

“So... the price.”

“The Anakonda staff didn’t ask for coin instead of blood?”

“N-no... I wanted it.”

“Tell me everything.”

I leaned harder on the sword.

“Ghk—fine...!”

“From the beginning.”

“To drink blood, you have to give blood...”

“Drink blood?”

“Yeah. They say if you give blood to the Anakonda vampires, you can drink theirs...”

“Why would you want to drink vampire blood?”

“Because... to become like them. To drink vampire blood on the Fourth Floor...!”

The answer caught me off guard.

Blood with blood.

Give blood, take blood.

That was the Third and Fourth Floors of Anakonda.

The Third Floor was for guests who wanted deviation—escape.

Twist the meaning slightly, and it became a different kind of escape: a daylight escape.

A place for those who wanted to step out of the sun.

And the Fourth Floor? For guests who didn’t come to drink liquor.

If not liquor, then certainly not water.

Only blood remained.

“Not everyone who drinks vampire blood becomes one.”

“I know that...!”

“Even if you’re one of the rare few who don’t reject it, the transformation’s incomplete.”

“I know!”

“Then why try to become a vampire?”

“Ngh...”

He turned his face away.

“Answer me.”

“It’s the war...”

“War?”

“We’re all going to die! As humans—weak like this—we’ll be trampled! Lowly creatures like us are just slaughtered...!”