Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 1 - Part 1

Read the table of contents to learn more about this version

While you may already be familiar with these terms, I’ve provided their English definitions for those who may not be.

1. さん (san): This is a general, respectful suffix used to address or refer to someone. It's similar to "Mr.," "Mrs.," or "Ms." in English. It's commonly used for people of all ages and social statuses in both formal and informal contexts.


2. 君 (kun): This suffix is often used for addressing younger males, or in a more familiar or casual setting. It can be used with people of the same or lower status, and it's commonly used among friends, students, or in professional settings where there is a clear hierarchy (like between a superior and a subordinate).


3. ちゃん (chan): This suffix is used to express affection or endearment, typically towards children, pets, or close friends. It conveys a sense of familiarity and warmth, and is often used with people who are younger or of the same age but with whom one shares a close, informal relationship. While it can be used for both males and females, it is more commonly used for females and children.


The text contains dialogues in both Japanese and English. To indicate the difference between the two, dialogue in brackets [ ] represents speech in English.

TOC Next

"Oh?"

At the storage warehouse of Akamaru Processed Foods, Kitahara Shikayo, a part-time employee, was in the freezer room for thawing imported beef when she noticed it and instinctively stopped what she was doing. There was something like a black ball of yarn inside one of the cardboard boxes containing meat. A bad feeling washed over her. Could this be a rat? She gingerly poked at it with her finger, but it didn’t move, nor was it soft. ...It was frozen. The meat was imported frozen, and only the portion needed for the day was thawed in the freezer room. If it was frozen, it must have been mixed in with the imported meat from the start.

A few years ago, there was a big commotion when a frozen rat was found in a box of frozen beef. When the company lodged a complaint with the supplier, they insisted, "Our management is flawless. If there was any contamination, it must have happened during transportation, so it’s the shipping company's problem. We have no obligation to take responsibility." They absolutely refused to admit that the rat had been mixed in at their facility. The meat was transported in frozen containers, and Shikayo couldn’t help but think it was unreasonable to say there was a chance for a rat to sneak in, but they reluctantly accepted the supplier's stance. Shikayo, who had first discovered the rat, ended up being blamed and reprimanded by her boss. She had never gotten along with that boss, and she knew they used the rat incident as an excuse to harass her.

Now that she thought about it, the print on the cardboard boxes had changed since last week, perhaps indicating a new supplier. Could there have been an issue with storage at the new supplier? Oh, but if a rat was found in the meat, that would mean a full re-inspection of all products and discarding all of today’s materials. And then, she would probably get blamed again...

Shikayo quickly glanced around, but no one else was in the freezer room. She picked up the frozen rat from the cardboard box, quickly slipped it into her apron pocket, and walked out as if nothing had happened.

“Oh, Shikayo.”

Outside the freezer room, she unexpectedly bumped into Yoshie. They were both 45 years old, and since they got along well, they always chatted during breaks. Did Yoshie see what just happened? Shikayo’s heart skipped a beat.

“I was wondering where you went since you weren't in the processing room.”

“I came to get more thawed meat since we were running low, but I needed to use the restroom first,” Shikayo replied, lowering her gaze slightly and quickly walking toward the exit. She changed her shoes, took off her cap, mask, and apron. With her gloves still on, she felt inside her pocket, quickly grasped the object, and dashed to the restroom. Once inside the stall, her heart pounding, she slowly opened her hand. The creature was about 12 or 13 centimeters long (4.7-5.1 inches), with a tail roughly 5 centimeters (2 in) in length. Rats usually look grayish, but this one seemed more brown. But wait a minute. This rat's feet looked strange. Its hands had claws, and upon closer inspection, it seemed to have something like wings.

A bat! The thought flashed through her mind. Could this be a bat? If it’s a bat, it probably wouldn’t eat leftover food, and since it’s more like a bird, it should be much cleaner than a rat... probably. She let out a sigh of relief.

Most of the meat processed here ends up as minced and cooked hamburger patties, the kind that you can heat up in a plastic pack with hot water or pop in the microwave to make. Since the meat was cooked before shipment, Shikayo reassured herself that it would be fine.

But still, why was there a bat mixed in with the beef? Oh, that’s right, bats do suck blood, don’t they? This bat must have traveled all the way from America with the beef, freezing along with it. How foolish of it to get itself frozen.

What should I do with this? After a moment of indecision, she finally wrapped the bat tightly in paper towels and threw it into the trash bin next to the restroom sink. Feeling much lighter, she retrieved the meat from the freezer room and returned to the processing room. Yoshie greeted her, "You were gone a while. Are you okay? You’re not feeling sick, are you?" Shikayo shrugged, "I'm fine, just a bit constipated."

Back at the table with the newly thawed meat, Shikayo eagerly grabbed a knife. With practiced ease, she separated the sinew and cartilage.

“Hey, Yoshie, bats are kind of like birds, right?”

Yoshie, who was holding a knife beside her, tilted her head in confusion.

“Bats are bats, aren’t they? What’s with the sudden question?”

Shikayo laughed, “Oh, my kid asked me about it yesterday.”

And with that, Shikayo forgot all about the bat she had thrown away in the restroom.

:-::-:

Crash!

Beside the toppled garbage bin, Albert Irving was on all fours, completely naked, on the cold tiles. Scattered in front of him were crumpled paper towels.

Al shook his head violently from side to side. Just his luck—to finally thaw out, only to find himself in a trash can. And to make matters worse, he had returned to human form the moment he thawed, causing him to burst out of the trash can with force.

It was dark around him, so it must have been nighttime. A shiver ran through him. October had arrived, and with the setting sun, the temperature had dropped sharply. While it was no surprise that he was cold being naked, it still felt somewhat less biting compared to the chill of the past few days.

The pervasive smell of ammonia in the air made him wrinkle his brow. That unmistakable odor—this was likely a restroom. Through the open door, he could see a toilet bowl, which seemed unusually low. He had no idea why he, who should have been frozen, had ended up in a restroom trash can. And where was he? There was a faint scent of beef in the air, but it was overwhelmed by strong smells of spices and disinfectants.

How long had he been frozen? As he pondered, it occurred to him that, no matter how many seasons had passed while he was in the freezer, it didn’t really matter to him. A more pressing issue was the fact that he had no clothes and was starving. Without something to wear, he couldn’t leave this place. Should he wait here until morning when he could transform into a bat? That was not an option he wanted to consider. The ammonia smell felt like it was seeping into his very skin.

What a terrible ordeal this had been. Slowly, he stood up and lightly moved his limbs. Just his luck—this was the worst... A sigh escaped him.

For a long time, Al had lived in an old, decaying boathouse by a river, near the home of Gaddis, a solitary old hunter who lived deep in the forest. Gaddis was often hired by the local ranchers to chase away wolves and coyotes or to cull the overpopulated deer. He also hunted occasionally to feed himself.

Gaddis would bleed out the animals he hunted for food right there on the spot by cutting the thick blood vessels in their necks. If Al followed Gaddis on his hunts, there was a good chance he could be there when this happened. The fresh blood spilled on the ground became Al’s meal.

However, Gaddis’s hunts were irregular. Sometimes, after stocking up on enough meat, he wouldn’t hunt for nearly a month, leaving Al with no choice but to endure hunger and sleep in the boathouse.

Whether Gaddis hunted or not was entirely up to him. Not wanting to miss a rare opportunity for a meal, Al would visit Gaddis’s house every morning, peeking in to see if he was going out hunting that day. On that particular day, as usual, Al hung around near the eaves by the window, but Gaddis’s house was eerily quiet. Normally, Al would see him through the window, having breakfast with coffee and bread, but even the curtains were drawn. Gaddis’s car was still in the garage, so it didn’t seem like he had gone out. Inside, Al could hear the continuous barking of Clute, Gaddis’s beagle, who lived with him alone.

By the second day with the curtains still closed, a nearby rancher came by to check on Gaddis and found the front door unlocked. When he opened it, Gaddis was found collapsed inside. When he was carried out of the house, and four days later, when he returned, it was in a coffin. Gaddis probably never noticed the bat flying around during his hunts... But even though it was a one-sided relationship, Al felt a deep sadness for the loss of the man who had unknowingly sustained him.

The problem now was that with Gaddis gone, Al had lost his irregular yet reliable source of blood. He had once tried to feed on the blood of animals killed by coyotes or wolves, but he was always chased away by hawks and eagles, who were also scavengers. He had even found a skilled coyote once and followed it persistently, but after being attacked in the middle of the night and having his right arm bitten off, he gave up.

In comparison, Gaddis hunted during the day, and if Al was patient, he could safely, reliably, and without interference, feast on fresh blood. Gaddis had been an invaluable source of sustenance. Now that he was gone, Al had to find a new hunter to secure his meals.

Al flew through the forest searching for another Gaddis, but he couldn’t find anyone like him. On the ranches, people would sometimes fire warning shots to scare off pests, but as far as Al knew, hardly anyone actually hunted.

Ten days passed without a drop of the blood that was his food. Weak with unbearable hunger, Al found himself wandering closer to the town. That’s when his keen vampire senses, developed from years of bloodlust, caught the faint, delicious scent of what he craved. Drawn by the smell, he flew towards it and found himself at a meat storage facility. The sign outside indicated they sold beef.

His first thought was whether he could lick the blood from discarded meat that had gone bad. He flew around the building, looking for a trash bin, but couldn’t find one. Unlike the town’s restaurants, it seemed this facility kept its waste inside the building.

Al looked for a chance to get inside. People were coming and going through what appeared to be the main entrance, but if he tried to slip in when the door opened, he might get caught and chased around. While Al was contemplating his next move, a box truck passed by him. The truck drove around to the back of the building and stopped in front of a closed shutter. The shutter began to rise with a rumble.

The back doors of the truck opened, and a dolly came over to load up the cardboard boxes, which had pictures of cows printed on them. Al quietly flew onto the truck. He crawled along the roof of the truck, inching his way forward to peek inside. The workers were too engrossed in loading the boxes to notice the bat watching them from above.

Though the meat was frozen, Al could faintly smell the blood, and his mouth watered. Starving and unable to resist any longer, he seized a moment when the workers had their backs turned to slip into the cargo hold and perched on a box in the back. Naturally, the cardboard boxes were sealed with tape. He tugged at the tape, managing to create a small gap to squeeze inside, only to find himself staring at the reality of vacuum-sealed, frozen beef. It was obvious, but he had hoped otherwise. There was no way he could lick this. Just as Al decided to climb out of the box, a heavy thud landed on top of him. The lid wouldn’t budge. The weight on top of the box was crushing.

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!!”

His cries were drowned out by the sound of the cargo doors slamming shut. Being trapped inside a cardboard box with frozen meat—this was the worst. His only hope now was to escape the moment the box was opened again.

Desperately, he kept crying out, “Squeak! Squeak!” but it only made him hungrier. Feeling utterly defeated and sinking into the worst possible situation, Al suddenly realized something. It was cold. Really cold. Could this cargo hold be a freezer? That was bad news. If this kept up, he would freeze solid.

He scrambled around inside the small box for a while, but gradually his body began to shiver uncontrollably, and he could no longer move. In his bat form, muttering “This is the worst, the worst,” Al eventually became a frozen bat, wedged between the cold, hard slabs of beef.

:-::-:

Suddenly sensing someone’s presence, Al quickly turned around. It was a mirror. There was a mirror. He searched for a switch and turned on the light. Reflected in the mirror was a man with short chestnut-colored hair—himself.

Below the mirror was a sink, and beside it was a plastic artificial flower. Just above the flower, there was a piece of paper with yellowed edges.

"Water conservation! Use water wisely!"

He placed both hands on the mirror and stared intently at the strange characters. What language was this? Chinese? He felt like he had seen similar characters at the Chinese restaurant where he had dined with his girlfriend.

This is the restroom of a Chinese restaurant! He was sure of it now. That would explain the smell of raw meat and spices. He must have been delivered to the restaurant’s kitchen while still frozen, discovered in the box, and then thrown into the restroom trash can. But wait a minute. Why the restroom? Why not the kitchen trash can?

Click, click... The sound of footsteps approaching from afar. As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he suddenly realized—he wasn’t wearing any clothes. The clothes he wore when he turned back into a human were left at the old, decaying boathouse he used as a hideout, but in this situation, he had no idea where he was and couldn’t go back to retrieve them.

That’s it! He clenched his right hand into a fist and slapped his left palm with a smack. He could say he was mugged. He could claim he was threatened with a knife, stripped of his clothes, and shoved into the restroom. If things went well, they might take pity on him and lend him some clothes.

That would explain why he was naked, but he glanced down at his lower half. He needed something to cover at least his crotch. Looking around, he saw a gray locker next to the sink. It wasn’t locked, and inside were what appeared to be cleaning supplies. The footsteps were getting closer. With no time to hesitate, he grabbed the nearest yellow item and pressed it against his crotch.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

A sharp voice pierced his back. Steeling himself, Al slowly turned around.

"Whoa... Who are you? And why the hell are you pressing a mop against your crotch?"

Standing at the restroom entrance was a man in light blue work clothes. His eyes were wide open, and his face was pale as if he had just seen a ghost. The man had an Asian face with a mole on his forehead. Asians were notoriously difficult to gauge age-wise; he looked like a teenager, but who knew how old he really was. If he was a kitchen worker or a waiter, the work clothes were odd. Perhaps he was a customer?



"This is the women’s restroom! What are you doing here completely naked?"

Al didn’t understand a word of Chinese, but he could tell the man was extremely agitated. Since this was America, Al thought the man could at least speak English, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. The important thing now was to somehow communicate his situation to this Chinese man with the mole. Even if he couldn’t speak English, maybe he could understand it, so Al deliberately spoke slowly and clearly.

[“I’m not a suspicious person.”]

As he said this, he took a step forward. The man with the mole yelped and backed away rapidly, as if he were being approached by a bank robber or serial killer. Al wondered why he was so terrified when he was standing there naked and unarmed, then realized he was holding the mop against his crotch. The man probably thought Al was hiding a weapon there.

Animals show their bellies to gain trust, exposing their vulnerable parts to show they mean no harm. To ease this man’s suspicion, Al realized he might need to make a similar gesture. With a resigned sigh, he slowly removed the mop from his crotch.

"Why the hell are you showing me that? You pervert!"

Despite Al’s embarrassing gesture of “showing his belly,” the man with the mole only grew more agitated. Unarmed and naked, [“what more could I do? I was at a complete loss.”]

[“I don’t have any weapons. Some stranger dragged me here and took my wallet and clothes. Please help me.”]

Al tried the excuse he had just thought of.

"Don’t speak English! This is Japan, so speak Japanese!"

It seemed the man with the mole didn’t understand English at all. Al slumped his shoulders and let out a long sigh.

The man with the mole slowly backed away and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. Al gulped, thinking he might pull out a gun, but instead, he produced a smartphone.

"Uh, excuse me, this is Tokimatsu. Hiroo-san, are you still in the office? I came to check the East Wing because I heard noises even though everyone should’ve gone home, and I found a man in the women’s restroom. He’s a foreigner, and he’s completely naked. He seems like some kind of perverted flasher. He’s speaking English, but I don’t understand what he’s saying, so please come here right away. No, I’m not joking! I wouldn’t joke about something like this!"

After ending the call, the man with the mole glared at Al. Even though Al was naked, the man’s suspicion was extreme, almost abnormal. Could it be that his true identity as a vampire had been discovered? But he hadn’t done anything to give himself away.

Then again, China had a history spanning over 4,000 years. Al recalled a kung fu movie he had seen where a man used strange powers. Could this man have detected his true nature using some ancient Chinese magic?

The sound of slow, plodding footsteps drew near. The acoustics of this place were unique, producing a hard, linoleum-like sound. Just listening to the sound, it felt like walking down a long school corridor. Maybe this wasn’t a Chinese restaurant after all, but a much larger building.

Another man entered the restroom. This man also had an Asian face, but he appeared older than the man with the mole. His face was flat and somewhat reminiscent of a bulldog a friend once owned. This man was also wearing light blue work clothes, and when he saw Al, he furrowed his brow and let out a grunt.

"What the hell is this guy?"

The bulldog-faced man said something in Chinese.

"See? He’s weird, right? This guy’s not normal. I’m calling the police."

The man with the mole took out his phone again. The bulldog-faced man gave Al a slow, disdainful look from head to toe. Being scrutinized while naked didn’t feel particularly good.

"How did you get into this building? What were you planning to do?"

It seemed the bulldog-faced man only spoke Chinese as well. The lack of communication was incredibly frustrating.

"I guess I have to say it in English for a foreigner to understand. Hmm... YOU, YOU... HENTAI?"

"Hiroo-san, ‘hentai’ (pervert) is a Japanese word!"

The man with the mole snapped at him, and the bulldog-faced man’s cheeks flushed red.

"I-I know that… But still, there are exhibitionist-type perverts in foreign countries too. When you think about it, perverts are universal."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

As Al listened to their sharp, prickly exchange, he heard the sound of sirens approaching from afar.

:-::-:

Al was subdued by a group of police officers who had rushed into the women’s restroom. When he first saw them, he thought they might be police officers, but their uniforms were so different from any he had seen before that he was confused. Moreover, all of them had Asian faces. Why were there only Chinese people here?

This must be Chinatown—he was sure of it. That would explain the Chinese-style uniforms and the Asian officers. But he didn’t think there was an area large enough to be called Chinatown in Nebraska, so perhaps he had somehow ended up outside the state. He must have been shipped far away while still frozen.

Among the young officers, there was one who spoke English, and finally, Al was able to communicate. The officer told him, [“You were caught sneaking naked into the bathroom of a processed food company, so you're being arrested for trespassing and public indecency.”]

Al was startled when the police car he was in began driving on the left side of the road. If they kept to the left, they would collide with oncoming traffic. He began to panic, wondering if anyone else noticed, and as expected, a car approached from the opposite direction.

[“Watch out!”]

His shout made the officers flanking him jolt violently. The approaching car passed by smoothly in the right lane, as if nothing had happened.

[“Why did you shout like that?”] asked the English-speaking officer with a tense expression.

[“Well, um…”] Al stammered as one car after another passed by in the right lane.

[“Is it okay for this car to drive on the left side?”] he asked.

The officer's expression softened. [“Maybe in your country they drive on the right, but here we drive on the left.”]

Despite the officer’s perfect English pronunciation, he had confused the words "country" and "state." Al had never heard of any state in America where people drove on the left. Had the laws changed while he was living in isolation?

As they passed streets lined with factory-sized buildings, the scenery suddenly changed. A bustling, urban landscape appeared out of nowhere. He squinted his eyes in surprise. The tightly packed buildings, narrow streets, and a stone bridge he had never seen before—all the people walking around were Chinese. The scene, illuminated by streetlights and signs, had an exotic feel, far removed from the familiar rural American landscape he was used to.

[“This Chinatown is huge,”] he murmured, only to be met with a surprised look from the officer.

[“Are you talking about the Chinatown in Yokohama? That’s in Kanagawa, so this is different,”] the officer replied.

Al didn’t understand what the officer was talking about. Yokohama? Kanagawa? Those were place names he had never heard before.

[“This isn’t Nebraska, right? I don’t know where I am,”] Al said, confused.

[“Are you talking about Nebraska in America?”]

[“Yes.”]

[“This is Japan. You really didn’t know?”] The officer’s voice grew sharp.

[“Japan?”]

[“This is Japan, not America. How did you even get here? Do you have your passport?”]

Unable to hide his shock, Al’s mouth hung open. Japan… this was Japan? Japan, the Asian country famous for Mount Fuji, geishas, and Akihabara. Movie stars often went there to promote their films. But where exactly was Japan? Next to India?

Regardless of its location, why had he ended up in Japan? The reason was clear: he had been exported to a foreign country along with the frozen beef. That much was unavoidable, but if it had to happen, he wished he had been sent to an English-speaking country.

It was the worst possible situation, being caught by Asian police officers and taken to an Asian police station, unable to communicate properly. He began to imagine himself starving, unable to find any blood, and growing more and more miserable in this strange land. The thought made him sink into gloom, and he didn’t say another word until they arrived at the police station.

During the ride, he had been wearing a disposable smock meant for visitors at the processed food company. Once at the station, they handed him a well-worn blue tracksuit with noticeable pilling and some underwear that didn’t seem new, saying, [“Change into these.”]

Although he managed to put them on, the sizes were too small, causing his limbs to stick out awkwardly, throwing off the entire balance of his appearance.

In his experience, tracksuits were meant to be worn for sports, designed for easy movement. Did the Japanese wear tracksuits even when not playing sports? It was baffling.

After changing, he was taken to a small, gloomy room, reminiscent of a rat's nest, and was prompted to sit on a folding chair in front of a steel desk. After he sat down, a young detective informed him that this was an "interrogation room."

Across from him, a middle-aged detective with puffy eyes, as if he carried the weight of the world's sorrows, slumped heavily into his chair. His suit was wrinkled and worn. Standing next to him was the young detective who had been translating, his face stiff with tension.

The middle-aged detective sneered, Even a handsome foreigner looks ridiculous in such a tacky tracksuit.

Though Al couldn’t understand the words, he could tell it wasn’t a compliment.

The young detective intervened, Torii-san, I think that’s a bit inappropriate.

Inappropriate? This guy doesn’t understand a word of Japanese. That’s what I’ve heard,the middle-aged detective replied, letting out a big sigh that reached Al. It smelled slightly.

He might be pretending not to understand. If we say whatever we want and he later claims a human rights violation, it could be a problem. After all, America is known for its lawsuits.

Hearing this, the middle-aged detective’s face changed color.

You should’ve told me that first, you idiot! he roared like thunder, causing Al to flinch. The young detective trembled as he muttered an apology. It was clear that the middle-aged detective held the power in their relationship.

The interrogation began, and the young detective started asking questions in English: his name, age, occupation, and the reason for coming to Japan. Al answered with his real name, Albert Irving, and said he was twenty-one—the age he was when he became a vampire. Technically, eight years had passed since then, so he was actually twenty-nine, but his appearance hadn't changed. After a moment of thought, he answered "actor" when asked about his profession, explaining that he came to Japan to shoot a movie.

“Oh, I knew it! He said he’s an actor. I thought he looked handsome from the moment I first saw him,” the young detective said excitedly to the older detective.

“An actor? Must be in adult videos,” the older detective retorted, causing the young detective to fall silent.

“Isn’t he in some kind of perverted adult video? Ask him.” When asked what kind of actor he was, Al proudly responded, "Film actor." He explained that he had started as a model, but was discovered by a famous director and transitioned into acting. His manager handled everything from his schedule to his passport, so he didn’t know much about the filming locations or even where his valuables were. He had gotten separated from the crew during filming, was attacked by a man… Ninety-nine percent of the story was made up, but the more he spoke, the more into it he got.

It was true that he belonged to a modeling agency and had done some work as an underwear model for mail-order magazines, as well as appearing on posters promoting dairy farming in the state. He had planned to attend an acting school after graduating from college, though he had wanted to enroll right after high school. However, his family strongly opposed the idea, so he went to college instead. Still, he couldn’t give up on his dream and continued working for the modeling agency. But in reality, there was no such American Dream where a mere model caught the eye of a big-time movie director; he just kept doing job after job for mail-order magazines.

“Say that again, Sasama,” the older detective’s voice snapped, and Al saw the young detective next to him flinch and straighten up.

“J-just as I said earlier. He got separated from the crew during filming, was walking down the street when a strange man caught him, stripped him of his belongings, and pushed him into a restroom,” the young detective stammered.

The steel desk banged loudly as the older detective slammed it with force.

“It’s one thing to say he was attacked while walking down the street, but claiming he was shoved into a restroom inside a factory that requires a passcode to enter? That makes no sense,” the older detective barked.

“If it’s true, then the person who stripped him must have been connected to the company, right?” the young detective suggested.

“Are you stupid? It was a company employee who reported it!” the older detective yelled.

“I think the person who reported it and the person who attacked him might be different people...”

“Isn’t it more likely that this guy sneaked into the factory on his own and hid in the women’s restroom to pull some kind of prank on the women there?”

Al watched the two detectives argue with each other, not understanding a word they were saying. It was like two incompatible dogs barking at each other. Meanwhile, his stomach growled. He discreetly held his stomach. He hadn’t had a single drop of blood since being thawed.

“It’s him who said he was brought into the factory, Torii-san,” the young detective insisted, his expression desperate.

“I talked to the people at the factory. It’s mainly a meat processing plant, and the job requires standing all day. It’s hard work, so young people quit quickly, and most of the employees are veterans. All the female employees are in their forties or older.”

“Then this guy’s just a pervert targeting older women!” the older detective shouted, pointing at Al.

“Hey, you! Lying is bad, you know, lying!”

The older detective’s slightly swollen eyes suddenly widened, as if a switch had been flipped.

“Stop with the bad acting and just confess, you bastard! You sneaked into the factory yourself, didn’t you? You were hiding in the women’s restroom to prank the older ladies!”

[“Weren’t you hiding in the women’s restroom to mess with the factory’s female employees?”] The young detective translated, his voice much gentler than the older detective’s aggressive tone.

[“No, I was really brought here by a man.”] Al clasped his hands together and pleaded sincerely. He really felt like an "actor" in that moment. The young detective, looking as if he might cry, said, “He says it’s true,” while the older detective leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and let out a loud, irritated click of his tongue that echoed through the room.

“Then ask him to describe the man who supposedly took him—his appearance, age, clothing!” the older detective ordered.

The young detective, looking as though he was the one being interrogated, asked Al about the man’s appearance. Al stroked his chin, thinking. Since it was a lie, he couldn’t describe the person. Still, if he didn’t say something, they’d only press him harder, making things even more troublesome.

Even if he had to make it up, the person should at least look like a villain. When he thought of an Asian villain, he pictured someone with a tough expression, like the older detective who was glaring at him with a deep frown on his nose. Staring at the man’s face, Al slowly began to speak.

[“He was about 165 centimeters tall (5’5’’), probably in his forties or fifties. His hair was black, thinning in the middle. His face was diamond-shaped, with swollen eyes, thick eyebrows, and a unibrow forming. His nose was low and round, his beard was thick, and his face was greasy.”]

As Al spoke, the young detective’s face gradually turned pale, and the older detective seemed to finally realize why.

"...So, you're saying he’s someone like me?"

"He didn’t mean that. He just said there’s a slight resemblance. There's no way you’d be a robber, Torii-san..."

“Of course not, you idiot!” the older detective roared, his voice vibrating through the small interrogation room.

In the end, Al was yelled at one-sidedly by the older detective and wasn’t released from the interrogation room until after midnight.

[“There’ll be another interrogation tomorrow morning,”] the young detective informed him, and although Al was fed up, he nodded obediently and entered the holding cell. He had never been in trouble with the police in his home country, so he never imagined he’d end up in a situation like this in a foreign country.

The Japanese detention center where Al was taken had a  semi-circular formation and two stories tall. Each room was very small, only about the size of two closets put together, and housed one or two people. Foreigners seemed to be a rarity, and Al could feel eyes on him just as he walked by.

Al was placed in a corner cell on the first floor. There was nothing inside except for a blanket. There seemed to be a toilet, but it was embedded in the floor and shaped so strangely that he couldn’t figure out how to use it. Well, ever since becoming a vampire, he no longer needed to relieve himself, but the faint smell of waste that lingered in the air was hard to bear, especially with his heightened sense of smell.

The cell was chilly. He wrapped himself in the thin blanket, which was mixed with the various body odors of others, and lay down on the linoleum floor. A meal of some sort was brought to him, but he didn’t touch it. Such food would never satisfy his hunger.

Staring at the iron bars, he wondered what to do next. From America to Japan... He should have studied the world map more carefully. How far apart were America and Japan? Could he fly back? Even if he could, he wouldn’t get far on an empty stomach—he would have to find blood somewhere.

He wouldn’t die from starvation. He knew that, but hunger was still painful. His body would stop functioning properly, and he would grow increasingly irritable. If he didn’t put something in his stomach, this unbearable feeling would torment him forever.

When dawn breaks, he would turn into a bat. If he transformed while wrapped in the blanket, he could probably avoid being detected. Once he became a bat, he could fly. Then he would just need to blend in with the people coming and going and make his way outside.

"I’ll look for food in the morning," he thought, closing his eyes and enduring the hunger. The floor was hard, but he could handle it. He had gotten used to not sleeping on a bed. At first, he despaired at how he had descended into a primitive, beast-like existence and wanted to die many times, but now he felt nothing. He didn’t care anymore.

People adapt to their circumstances. Even sleeping on the floor no longer made his joints ache, and he could sleep soundly. For two years, he had struggled to maintain a normal human life, and in the third year, by giving up on everything, he had accepted his body. It was only last year that he had begun living in the boathouse near Gaddis’s house, starting his wandering journey. Since then, even when in human form, he had ceased interacting with people. There was no point in making friends—he couldn’t form deep relationships, and no one would ever understand his situation.

He had spoken to many people today. It might have been the first time in two years that he had used his voice. And tomorrow, he would return to the same life he had before—leaving the detention center, searching for blood to survive, and living as a vampire who existed only to feed.

He didn’t know how long this life would continue, but he felt that in the not-too-distant future, he might forget his own name and what kind of person he had once been.

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