Chapter 10

### Chapter 10: 2. The Moon's Flower and the Vampire (1)

* * *

There are countless humans, and their sources of entertainment are diverse.

Some might consider the pleasure of eating delicious food the greatest, while others might say the pleasure derived from sexual relations between men and women is the highest.

Still, there are those who find the greatest joy in sports.

But the emotions of a man named Ash Ronmore were a bit different from the norm.

He found the greatest pleasure in life-and-death situations.

This was not the kind of thrill one gets from extreme sports that many on Earth enjoyed, risking their lives.

The acrid smell of gunpowder and the flash of gunfire.

The sensation of bullets grazing his skin.

And the look of shock in the eyes of his opponents when he broke through the rain of bullets.

The thrill of tightrope walking over a cliff without any safety equipment, where a single wrong move of just 1 cm could mean death, was what truly made him feel human.

Even his superhuman physical abilities, which far surpassed those of ordinary humans, and his mental resilience, which quickly adapted to any pleasure, could not match the intensity of that sensation.

So, Ash always approached battles with a joyful heart, but in recent days, he could not do so.

Because his mood was very, very bad.

* * *

"Dieee!!"

* * *

The loud gunshots pierced the air as bullets were fired. The gangster, who had fired wildly in a fit of rage, found that his enemy had already disappeared from the front.

The figure seemed to have vanished into the ground like a ghost. His bloodshot eyes frantically scanned the surroundings, but he saw nothing except the furniture destroyed by his and his comrades' bullets.

"Wh-Where are you!! Come out!!"

* * *

Panting heavily, the gangster's fear deepened with each passing moment, like being swallowed by a swamp.

In the silence, the only sound was the gangster's heavy breathing and the crunch of broken glass under his feet.

* * *

*Crack.*

A sound of something being crushed came from behind him.

* * *

"Wh-What?!"

The gangster turned reflexively and caught a glimpse of a blue streak.

Then, he heard a heavy thud.

* * *

*Thud.*

"…Huh?"

The gangster belatedly noticed what had fallen to the ground.

It was his own hands, still gripping the gun as if it were his last lifeline.

* * *

*Crunch.* The sound of broken glass reached the gangster's ears as he knelt down in a daze. He slowly lifted his head to look ahead.

* * *

"…?"

Black and white sneakers, dark blue jeans.

Looking up, a white T-shirt splattered with blood and a black coat.

Further up, ashen silver hair and eyes that burned with a blue flame looked down at him.

Despite the casual attire, as if he had just gone for a walk, the man held a knife dripping with fresh red blood in his hand.

His appearance was so calm that it seemed almost eerie.

* * *

*Step, step.*

The 'grim reaper' who had taken the lives of his comrades and was now coming to take his own approached.

The gangster, seeing the world stained red with his own blood and the approaching reaper, felt an intense dizziness and soon lost consciousness.

* * *

"Ah, a full load of work. The incineration truck will be busy."

"Hey, shut up and clean up. We have more to do today, so don't make a fuss."

"No, but this is a bit too much. We were told not to kill them if possible."

"Sure, they said that, but they picked the guy who always kills. If you don't like it, go complain."

"Ah, that…."

To be honest, it's a bit scary.

At a gang hideout, the special response team members of the police, dispatched for a confidential mission, grumbled.

Their task was one: to clean up after a certain hitman's job.

While they referred to him as a hitman, no one in the team was unaware of who he was.

"Still, he's really impressive. How can a human do this?"

"Well, he didn't get famous for nothing."

They picked up scattered body parts and roughly cleaned the bloodstains. The fine traces would be properly cleaned by the post-operation team later.

While the special response team in the slums was generally used to such tasks, even they had never seen such carnage.

"Wow, look at this. It's like it was cut with a butcher's knife."

A team member held up a severed wrist in amazement. The wrist was still warm, and the cut was so clean it looked like it had been sliced with an industrial cutter.

When he showed the cut to his colleague, the other team member cursed.

"Ugh! You crazy bastard! Do you want to see that?"

"No, but it's amazing. How did he do this?"

"Maybe he has a molecular cutter."

"Are molecular cutters commercially available?"

"Who knows? It's possible. We're just low-level, but the higher-ups might know. They might have already made it and are just hiding it."

"Wow, if they exist, I want one too."

"Why? Do you want to try cutting wrists?"

"To be honest, it's cool. Didn't you see him? He only had a knife. It looks like he only used a knife here."

Wrist, leg, arm, shoulder, neck. It was as if he had chopped a human into pieces like meat. The team member who heard this shook his head in disgust.

"Is it cool? This is just murder, you crazy bastard. And he did it while they were still alive."

"So what? They're just trash that doesn't help society."

"Ugh, whatever. Think what you want."

The team member with a relatively normal mindset was at a loss at his colleague's attitude. He had passed the mental health test during the recruitment process, so how did he pass?

"Wow! This is!"

The colleague, who had been making a fuss over a bullet fragment, caught his attention. After a while, he continued to clean the bloodstains and eventually gave a hint to the other team members.

By now, the hitman should be far enough away. It was time to get to work.

"Alright, we have more places to go, so let's start the cleanup."

The real reason they were there, the 'cleanup.'

* * *

The second day of the mission.

Ash mechanically carried out the job. Even though the 63rd district's gang influence was weak, the numbers were not small, so it wasn't a job that could be finished in a day or two.

But if he maintained this pace, he would soon clear out all the gangs around the city center.

Ash, who had been resting his eyes in the moving car, asked the police team member who had been glancing at him for a while.

"Do you have something to say?"

"Ah, no. Just…."

Brown curly hair, brown eyes. The police team member, who looked like he had just become an adult, was startled and stammered. The team member in the front seat snickered.

"Hmph. You were so excited earlier, but now you can't say anything in front of him."

"But, but. Seeing him in person is just…."

"Just what?"

"Just too…."

"Just too what?"

"Just too cool to say anything…."

"What?"

The team member in the driver's seat asked in disbelief, and Ash, who had been in a bad mood since the first day, looked at the young man beside him with a bewildered expression.

He had been glancing at him not out of fear but out of admiration?

The young man had also cleaned up the scenes of his massacres. Was he in his right mind?

The hideouts of the gangs Ash had passed through were completely drenched in blood. A scene that would make any sane person vomit.

If he had found it cool to see him fight, it might have been understandable, but the young man had cleaned up the bodies and chunks of flesh and still said such crazy things.

No matter how young he was, it was beyond comprehension.

"Um, um…."

The seemingly deranged team member cautiously called out to Ash. Ash looked at him with a questioning gaze.

"Can I come with you next time…?"

"Hey, you crazy bastard!"

The team member in the driver's seat, shocked by the absurd request, scolded the young man and apologized to Ash.

"Sorry, sir. He's still a bit immature, so please understand."

"Wait, no, I really want to see…."

"Please, just shut up, please."

The team member in the front seat pleaded, but it didn't seem to register.

Ash, seeing the two as if they were performing a comedy act, couldn't help but chuckle. His mood, which had been terrible the past couple of days, lightened a bit.

Ash spoke in a gentler tone than usual.

"If you want to come, come along."

"Really?!"

"Ah, sir…."

The team member in the driver's seat sighed, but Ash ignored it.

"Even if you die, it's your problem."

"Yes!"

"Ha…."

The deranged team member answered enthusiastically to Ash's ambiguous statement, and the team member in the driver's seat sighed.

The vehicle carrying the three and the following vehicles soon arrived at the day's final destination.

"That building over there."

The vehicle carrying Ash stopped, and the following vehicles also stopped.

Ash looked at the building the driver pointed to.

"Hmm."

"I heard this one is a bit larger."

About 500 meters away, a clean and large building stood, a rarity in the slums.

It was not covered in cheap neon signs like other commercial buildings, nor did it look crude.

Indeed, as the driver said, this seemed to be a more significant operation. They must have heard about the surrounding gangs being wiped out and prepared accordingly.

Ash, picking up the knife he had casually left in the car, got out. The deranged team member, who seemed to have been serious about his request, followed… but was immediately dragged back.

"Hey, hey! Are you really crazy! Get over here!"

"Aah! I said I'm going!"

"Stay put, will you!"

The sound of their bickering reached Ash's ears. Their conversation was so amusing just by the sound of it.

Ash, chuckling again, didn't wait for the restrained team member and moved toward the destination.

He had meant it when he said it was okay to come along, but he never thought the young man would actually follow.

His colleagues wouldn't just let him go, after all.

In fact, from Ash's perspective, having someone tag along would just be a nuisance.

Ash, feeling a bit lighter, continued walking and entered the target building.

As soon as he opened the door, a loud burst of gunfire greeted him instead of a welcome.

* * *

* * *

"Ha-ha-ha! Die!!"

* * *