Episode 30

In the suffocating silence, the barrel of a gun was trained on Rosanna’s chest. The man holding it, calm and steady, was unmistakably the smugglers’ leader—his subordinates had called him “boss.”

“You’re no bounty hunter. Your fancy clothes give that away. What is it? Looking for some thrill in dangerous waters? Bad luck, miss. This world doesn’t cut slack for pretty faces.”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three rapid shots rang out, and Rosanna’s body staggered backward, collapsing onto the floor. Blood pooled quickly beneath her.

Breaths were the only sound as the stunned gang tried to process what had just happened. Laughter followed, uneasy and nervous at first, but it grew bolder.

“Damn, she scared the hell out of me for a second. Just some crazy broad.”

“Should’ve had some fun with her first, boss.”

“Yeah, what a waste.”

As they indulged in lewd chatter, the mood shifted with a single sound.

A sigh.

The soft exhalation froze the room.

Then came laughter—high, clear, and echoing unnervingly through the space.

“Ah, it hurts! Oh, it hurts so bad!” Rosanna’s laughter was chilling, her voice sweet yet filled with a terrifying glee. “I’ve never been shot before. Did you know it hurts this much?”

She rose slowly, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling brilliance. Her smile, though beautiful, was more horrifying than captivating.

The gang’s bravado shattered. Some fell to their knees; one even wet himself. Rosanna paid them no mind, her attention on her chest. The wounds had already begun to heal, bullets pushed out of her flesh as it regenerated. She casually dug her fingers into the closing wounds, pulling out the bullets, her hands slick with blood.

Once the last wound had sealed, Rosanna wiped her hands on her clothes and stood.

“How… how is this possible?” one of the men stammered.

“She’s a monster! Run!” someone screamed.

The smugglers scrambled to escape. Rosanna darted forward, blocking the door in a single stride.

“Turning your backs on me? So, you want to play tag? Alright, but here’s the rule—you can’t leave this room. Survive until midnight, and I’ll let you live.”

She clasped her hands together and tilted her head. “So, let’s play.”

One of the men, desperate, tried to climb out a window. He struggled to pull himself through, the height working against him. Rosanna strolled over, grabbed his ankle, and yanked him back inside.

“I said no leaving. Breaking the rules means punishment.”

With a quick twist, she broke his ankle. His scream was piercing.

Rosanna dropped him and turned away, losing interest in the now-crippled man. The remaining gang members, realizing there was no escape, lunged at her all at once.

Weapons swung wildly—axes, clubs, whatever they could find. Rosanna dodged with ease, grabbing one attacker and tossing him into the wall. The impact knocked him unconscious. Those who managed to wake tried to flee or fight again, only to meet the same fate.

Darkness fell outside. Rosanna glanced up at the night sky through a window, its stars sparkling like shards of glass.

“When’s midnight? Anyone got a watch?” Her voice carried a teasing edge.

Only heavy breaths filled the silence. Then, breaking the stillness, an axe flew through the air toward her. Rosanna caught it effortlessly, bending the blade with her bare hands.

“Throwing sharp objects at people? How rude.”

Her crimson eyes fixed on the thrower. He looked like a man on death row, resigned and utterly defeated. Boring.

“I’m tired of this,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s end it.”

Perhaps sensing they had no other choice, the remaining gang members charged her all at once. Just as Rosanna leaped into the air, a gunshot rang out.

It was Raymond’s turn. From his hiding spot, he fired methodically, aiming only at non-lethal areas. His precision left no doubt that he had training. Within moments, the room was quiet again, save for the groans of the injured smugglers.

Raymond emerged from behind a stack of crates, securing the wounded men with rope and using scraps of cloth to bind their gunshot wounds. Once finished, he walked over to Rosanna.

“I’ll alert the guards at dawn.”

“I’ll come with you. None of them are getting away in their current state.”

Raymond regarded her quietly.

Strength and beauty were one and the same—that was the saying among vampires. And Rosanna embodied it effortlessly. Even against mere humans, she had shown overwhelming dominance without revealing the full extent of her abilities.

It was clear she was someone worth watching closely.

“Let’s go together, then,” he said.

* * *

“How can we possibly repay you… Thank you! Truly, thank you!” The guards bowed deeply. Rosanna accepted their gratitude with an air of nonchalance.

“The smuggling gang has been poisoning this region. They were a real menace, especially with how many families suffered because of their hallucinogens. And their leader… he was cunning, always destroying evidence before we could pin anything on him. Thanks to you both, we can even arrest the sailors who helped with the smuggling. It’s a shame we couldn’t meet the mercenary you mentioned.”

In the story Rosanna and Raymond had told the guard captain, they were portrayed as lovers. While traveling, they had stumbled upon the smugglers’ hideout and been kidnapped but were fortunate enough to be rescued by a former mercenary who helped them take down the gang. Of course, this “mercenary” was a fabricated character, added for credibility.

“And about the bounty?” Rosanna asked curtly.

“Excuse me?”

“The bounty. Where is it?”

The captain’s lengthy speech of gratitude had been of no interest to her. What mattered was the reward—monetary compensation. Her wealth was irrelevant; Rosanna wasn’t one to leave a prize unclaimed.

The captain, startled, quickly recovered. “Ah, yes, of course! You don’t miss a thing, do you? You seem like a resourceful lady—one who’d be excellent at managing a household. Right, sir?” His eyes shifted to Raymond, dragging him into the conversation.

Raymond smirked, a faint glint of amusement in his expression. “Better than someone who spends frivolously, I’d imagine.”

One of Rosanna’s eyebrows twitched. Normally, she would have snapped back at such an impertinent remark, demanding an immediate correction. Yet, oddly, she didn’t feel annoyed.

Perhaps it was because last night’s operation had been more enjoyable than she’d expected. Upon reflection, even her brief partnership with Raymond—a dhampir, of all things—had been amusing. That might explain her uncharacteristic tolerance.

They accepted the pouch containing the bounty and stepped outside. Rosanna held the pouch in her hand.

“Here you go. You earned it. Hold out your hand.”

“You’re handing it over like it’s a paycheck,” Raymond commented, though he took the pouch without hesitation.

“That’s exactly what it is. Consider this my acknowledgment. From now on, I recognize you as an acquaintance of mine. It’s a rare honor.”

“And what do I gain from this acknowledgment?”

“Prestige.”

“Completely useless.”

“What?”

“Just kidding.”

Raymond’s sly grin caught Rosanna off guard. She hadn’t expected him to have an expression other than his usual dry smirk. Seeing him smile so openly, especially in a way that made her feel like the petty one, felt unfair.

“So, what’s next?”

“My business here is done.”

While she could return home, the idea of sightseeing in the port town before leaving sounded more appealing.

“I’ll take a look around. But first, I need to change.”

“Rest for a bit, and we’ll meet at the central square in two hours,” Raymond suggested.

“…We’re going together?”

“Do you mind?”

He was a puzzling man. Cold enough to seem indifferent, yet so casually forthcoming that it threw her off.

Regardless of his intentions, having someone to carry her bags sounded convenient.

“I’ll allow it. To commemorate our new acquaintance, I’ll treat you to a meal. You’re a ‘half-blood,’ after all, so you need to eat. I noticed you’ve skipped two meals during all this sneaking around.”

“Can’t tell if you’re being considerate or mocking me.”

“Hm? …Oh, ‘half-blood’? Does that bother you?”

Rosanna had used the term without much thought, forgetting its derogatory history. It had long been used as a slur against dhampirs, and Raymond had every reason to take offense.

The realization struck her. She often called her nephew Henry by a variety of affectionate nicknames—”darling,” “sleepyhead,” “half-blood.” It was a term of endearment for her, but Raymond couldn’t have known that.

“It wasn’t meant as an insult. My nephew is a dhampir too. His mother’s human, so he has more human blood than vampire. That’s why I use it as a pet name. It just slipped out.”

“I’m surprised you’ve accepted it. I’ve heard that high-ranking vampires don’t acknowledge dhampirs because they consider them impure.”

Rosanna’s expression shifted, her tone firm but not defensive.

“I didn’t say it was easy. My family exiled my brother for marrying a human. But Henry… he’s my family, and I protect what’s mine. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”