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Chapter 2: Werewolf and Vampire
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"Are you sure...?" I couldn't help but ask.
In those few minutes I had observed her, the impression she gave off was that of a clumsy, awkward girl. She didn't give me the vibe of being a true vampire at all, especially since she lacked that crushing pressure of Yōki I would have expected from a creature of her race beings that, according to every bestiary I'd ever read, occupied the absolute pinnacle of the monster food chain; supreme predators before whom most supernatural species would lower their gaze.
Yet, I clearly perceived a certain amount of Yoki. It wasn't negligible, nor was it insignificant; for an ordinary student, it would have been more than enough to instill fear, perhaps even make their knees tremble.
But in my eyes, it remained almost trivial compared to what I expected from a vampire. It didn't even reach half of what I released when I decided to slightly loosen my Holy Lock, and that wasn't even my full power, but only a restrained fraction since werewolves were also classified as S-rank, and that title hadn't been assigned lightly.
And yet, despite my cold and rational evaluation, there was something about her presence that continued to pull at me with persistence. It wasn't just her beauty, which easily surpassed any woman I had ever seen.
It was something deeper, something that escaped classification and measurement, something I couldn't reduce to a simple comparison between our Yoki levels.
Her blood—or rather, her essence.
I could do nothing but breathe in her scent, a subtle yet enveloping aroma that seemed to creep into my lungs and spread slowly into every fiber of my body. I felt my monster blood grow warmer than normal, almost boiling under my skin as if it had recognized something before my mind could even formulate it into rational thoughts.
The heat spread slowly from my veins to my chest, from my chest to my fingers, making every heartbeat feel heavier. Seeing this, I immediately tried to maintain control, not letting that simple proximity crack my self-restraint.
"E-ehm... y-yes, I am... but..." Moka stammered. I noticed her leaning slightly forward as she opened the collar of her white school uniform, giving me a clear view of the cross resting on her ample cleavage.
Hanging from her neck, I could see a shiny silver cross. "This rosary... I've always worn it as a seal and I can't take it off," she continued hesitantly. "Apparently, if it were ever removed, my true power would come to the surface and I-I would become a full vampire... much stronger... and much more dangerous than I seem now."
So... Her power was sealed.
Suddenly, everything made much more sense in more ways than one.
However, I couldn't help but narrow my eyes as a slow, unpleasant suspicion began to take shape in my mind. A seal of that kind wasn't something just anyone could create, let alone maintain over time without any consequences.
I knew this well because, years ago, I had attempted to study the basics, driven more by curiosity than necessity. However, I soon realized how far it was above my abilities back then and decided to abandon it, at least for the moment, until I had grown and matured some of my skills.
But getting back to the point, I knew very well that there were very few individuals capable of engraving such a seal without destabilizing the host or leaving obvious imperfections, ensuring the Yoki flowed without any problems.
And Mikogami was one of them.
Had that old bastard tucked himself into this matter as well? It wouldn't be the first time he intervened from the shadows, pulling strings while actually orchestrating everything in a very irritating way.
The feeling of déjà vu grew more intense, creeping through my thoughts like an echo of the past, while my gaze instinctively slid toward my wrist, where the Holy Lock rested hidden under my sleeve.
It wasn't a simple ornament, but a sealing artifact designed to bind and regulate the power of a Yōkai or a hybrid, acting directly on the blood—the primary source of our power.
It wasn't a complete seal; it didn't erase the user's power, it only suppressed it, allowing access for short periods and at controlled intensities, making it a tool of regulation rather than a prison.
Its true purpose wasn't simply to limit power, but to prepare the body to sustain it, gradually adapting it until it transformed into something more than human. At the same time, it suppressed the most dangerous side effects, preventing loss of control and physical collapse.
In short, the Holy Lock allowed for evolution rather than a forced mutation. I remember that I, too, had once been forced to completely seal my power, so as not to lose control or, worse, turn into a ghoul.
Ghouls were the unfortunate ones who were forcibly injected with monster blood, unable to contain it, and who ended up transformed into little more than brainless killing machines.
Returning to the point: the difference was that I could loosen the seal whenever I wanted. The Lock could even act as a battery for my Yōki, ready to release energy the moment I needed it.
A damn useful tool.
Too bad that old man was a pathological miser when it came to his artifacts. And, to tell the truth, I was still too weak to exploit more than one at maximum potential.
I shook my head slightly.
Now wasn't the time to think about getting stronger.
I had something else to face.
Her.
What did I want to do with Moka?
Honestly, it wasn't that I was eager to make friends with another monster. But I had come here for a very specific reason: to get stronger. And, as Mikogami had repeated to me ad nauseam, I couldn't let the past follow me forever.
One step at a time.
Let's try.
"My name is Siegfried, but you can just call me Sieg—actually, I prefer it that way," I finally said. "And... y-yes. I would like to be your friend, if that's okay with you. And, well... you would also be my first friend."
"Really?!" Moka exclaimed, surprised, before her face lit up with a smile.
I nodded, already starting to regret my decision, as I watched her glow with joy. Then, suddenly, she rushed toward me and pulled me into a hug, pressing her breasts against my chest.
"Thank you! Finally, I have a monster friend like me!" she said excitedly. "The humans at my old school always laughed at me and teased me..." She stopped for a moment, making a small sad pout, before smiling again as if nothing had happened.
"Alright, I get it," I sighed. "But you're a bit too close."
"I-I'm sorry!" she said immediately, taking a step back—
… and putting her foot in the wrong place.
She slipped again, falling face-down toward my chest, knocking me down as well. I watched as her skirt flipped up just enough to give me a view of her perfect ass and white panties something I never asked to see, but I certainly wasn't complaining about the free show.
I closed my eyes.
Yes.
For the second time already...
It was going to be a long day.
"Are you okay? Do you need help?" I asked as I stood up with ease, sighing as I held out my hand to help her up, even though a part of me wanted to stay where I was.
I had never encountered a monster so hard to hate in my entire life, and not just for one reason. Before me was not a bloodthirsty creature or something to be feared, but a fragile girl, vulnerable in an almost disarming way—someone who could barely manage to hurt a fly.
It was precisely that paradox that shocked me: I knew what she was, what she represented according to every possible classification, yet the image before me contradicted every preconception.
And I hated that I couldn't truly consider her "bad."
Moka turned her head toward me, glancing over her shoulder. "I-I'm sorry... I'm usually not this clumsy," she apologized in a sweet voice. She took my hand and, as I helped pull her up, perhaps I used a bit too much force, which ended with her leaning against my chest.
She looked at me, her face clearly flushed from our proximity.
"Believe me, there's nothing to apologize for," I said, realizing it had all been her clumsiness and I had just observed every time it made her skirt fly up. "In fact... maybe I should carry you the rest of the way so you don't fall so much. What do you think?" I couldn't help but joke, strangely amused by the idea of teasing her a bit.
"N-no need... b-but thanks anyway," Moka replied, smiling shyly at my words and quickly pulling away from my chest. "S-so... What kind of monster are you?" she asked immediately after, changing the subject with almost suspicious speed.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
It wasn't a trivial question at all, as I felt a familiar weight in my stomach—that tightness I always felt whenever someone tried to get me to reveal something personal, something that could reveal my true nature or leave me vulnerable in the eyes of someone else.
Should I tell her? Admit I was a hybrid? And if so, how far should I go? Should I tell her I was also a werewolf, or stop abruptly, letting my identity remain blurred, protected by ambiguity?
For years I had learned that the truth was a double-edged sword, since showing myself for who I was meant exposing myself to disgust, fear, and hatred, risking everything without any protection.
Hiding, on the other hand, guaranteed survival—but at a price, trapped in a mask that prevented others from seeing who you really were and prevented you from feeling truly free.
Mikogami's words resurfaced in my mind, as annoying as a wound that never stopped burning: the past can only hold you back as long as you let it; the first step is your act of rebellion; trusting someone who has hurt you doesn't mean forgetting, it's choosing not to let hatred decide who you become.
I grit my teeth, feeling that choice pressing against my chest as if it demanded an immediate price. "I-I'm a hybrid." Finally, I took a slow breath and spoke, doing my best to keep my voice steady, even though my instinct screamed at me to remain silent.
The word hung between us for a moment, heavy, almost tangible, as if it had a physical weight compressing the air around us. Moka blinked, and gradually the blush on her face faded, replaced by an expression of sincere confusion. "... A hybrid? Is that a type of monster?"
I couldn't hide a bitter half-smile.
According to the bestiary, the answer was yes and no: we were defined as hybrids, or "monstrel," because we weren't pure-blooded creatures and didn't truly belong to either world. Not completely human, not completely monster, but the result of two different natures clashing and merging in the same body, creating a fragile and unstable balance.
To some, we were an error, an anomaly born from a union that shouldn't have existed; to others, a dangerous aberration precisely because we were impossible to pigeonhole—and what cannot be classified always tends to frighten.
Often despised, feared, avoided, and looked upon with suspicion by both sides, given that in most cases we were stronger than our own parents—not by privilege but by necessity, because to survive we had to learn to master both heritages we carried inside.
"Something like that," I admitted. "I was originally human... Then, due to a series of circumstances not worth revisiting now, I took monster blood into me and became a hybrid between human and werewolf."
The reaction was immediate: Moka gasped and took a step back, as if that distance had suddenly become necessary. She stared at me with wide eyes, filled with shock and, yes, even fear—a detail that hit me harder than I wanted to admit.
"What's wrong?" I asked, genuinely confused.
She lowered her gaze for a moment, biting her lower lip before speaking. "... I hate humans," she said softly, almost as if confessing it hurt her.
I had to admit that a bitter pain shot through my chest and I had to stop myself from laughing, because I never would have imagined someone could say that to me in that way, with that fragility in their voice.
For most monsters, humans weren't people, but something inferior—tools or prey to be used and discarded without a second thought. To hear it pronounced like that, not with contempt but with suffering, made those words much heavier than I would have believed possible.
"Why?" I asked, without anger or judgment, holding her gaze and searching her eyes for something that would help me understand if she had experienced a pain similar to mine.
Her voice trembled as she replied. "Because every human I've known always made fun of me; they bullied me, laughing at me. They didn't want to believe I was a vampire who drank blood."
She clenched her hands as if trying to hold onto something invisible, then slowly shook her head, while her face grew paler and her gaze became clouded with a mixture of shame and repressed anger.
I remained silent, because honestly, I couldn't find a response that didn't sound empty or useless. In that moment there was really nothing to say; there were just two different hatreds born from the same pain meeting face-to-face for the first time, without filters or defenses.
I had learned to distrust monsters to survive, keeping them at a distance as my only form of protection. Instead, she had learned to despise humans for the same reason: every encounter with them had taught her that showing vulnerability meant exposing herself to cruelty.
Two different responses to the same deep wound, two understandable but imperfect reactions that, instead of protecting us, isolated us further, locking us each in our own resentment.
And I... what was I supposed to say to anger like that?
"There are good people and bad people, humans and monsters," I said slowly, choosing every word with care. For some reason I still couldn't fully understand, I didn't want to hurt the girl in front of me; I didn't want to add weight to the pain she already carried inside. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you were exposed to all that evil for so long... but not everyone is like that. Just like us: a few moments ago we were talking without any problems, right?"
She lowered her head slightly and immediately a sense of unease gripped my stomach, as if I were talking to a dog that had just been scolded, aware that I had put her in a delicate position. It wasn't a pleasant feeling; rather, it was strangely oppressive, almost paralyzing, as if I were facing something I couldn't quite decipher.
And yet, as I looked at her, I couldn't help but notice the charm she radiated—something subtle yet incredibly intense—as I wondered if it were possible for a woman to be so irresistible.
"... I suppose you're right. You haven't acted at all like those other humans with me," Moka murmured hesitantly, as if she were still trying to figure out if she could really trust my words.
"And besides," I continued, lowering my tone a bit, "you know well that monsters must stay hidden from humans and that they shouldn't even believe we exist, right? But even so, it doesn't justify them making fun of you for it."
Moka nodded slowly, then looked me in the eyes. "I'm really sorry for what I said..." Without any warning, she threw herself at me, her arms wrapping tight around my neck with warmth and strength, and for a moment, the world around us ceased to exist.
It wasn't a hug born of fear or anger.
It was just need.
Pure, simple need for comfort.
Seriously? For some reason, a part of me wanted to pull away. I wasn't used to that kind of contact, to that shared vulnerability. And yet I didn't, despite my rational mind trying to convince me to do so.
I held her in my arms, trying not to make her feel more fragile than she already was, and finally gave her a clumsy pat on the back. With a bit of surprise, I realized that I was the one feeling more comforted than she was, as if that hug had untied a knot inside me I didn't even know I had.
"I won't blame you if you're hurting too much right now to want to talk," I said, trying to keep my voice steady even though it betrayed too much of what I was feeling. "Things like that leave marks, I understand. I just hope you can see me for who I am rather than for what I've become."
Moka leaned against me, breathing slowly, while silence enveloped us, soft and heavy at the same time. For a few moments we stayed like that, without need for words, and after what felt like an eternity, I finally found the courage to speak again.
"So... are we friends?" I asked, making an enormous effort to keep my voice normal, feeling my heart beat faster than I expected.
I really wasn't used to things like this.
She nodded quickly, in a gesture that was almost timid but incredibly cute, and a small smile crossed her face.
In reality, I had never had many friends.
Most of the teenagers around me were too cowardly to get close, always ready to judge me or label me as "too weird" or "different" because of some of my dominant or violent behaviors—not that they were entirely wrong.
It would be nice, after so long, to have someone by my side to share something real with, someone who didn't judge me and who let me feel normal, at least for a while.
Her presence, her need for closeness, had filled something inside me: a void I hadn't even realized I was carrying. Until that moment, the only person in the world who really knew my fragile side had been my sister.
No one else.
And for that reason, no one would ever know what happened today. For various reasons...
Well, at least I had my first and only friend in this school.
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