Chapter 43: Seen with One’s Own Eyes
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
John was curious about two things: the relationship between the specters, and their names. “Atwood” was a normal surname, but “Wu Jiu” and “Hai Jiu” clearly weren’t human names.
Thanks to Atwood’s strong desire to complain and Coraci’s steady reading of his book, all of John’s questions were answered over the ride.
“Wu Jiu” and “Hai Jiu” aren’t actually names. Specters and ghosts tend to be bound by their living names, especially personal or baptismal ones. That’s why they no longer use real names — even Mr. Atwood only introduced himself by surname.
It was obvious that Atwood was Hai Jiu’s father. And Atwood hated Wu Jiu — who lingered outside the old manor, forbidden entry by Atwood.
Years ago, Coraci had been near Linton town for other business and met the Atwood family. Hai Jiu nearly got mistakenly killed by a demon hunter but was saved by Coraci, who used a contract to restore her health. She took the opportunity to leave the manor and became Coraci’s servant. Wu Jiu followed shortly after, so the specter couple finally got to be together.
“I let it happen because I didn’t want her to be sad!” Atwood’s sadness grew, and he once again touched his chest as if his heart hurt. “But I still resent Wu Jiu. Yes, I’m stubborn, because… well, I’m dead! Dead people are stubborn by nature!”
“What did he do?” John slid a little to the side to avoid the sunlight and to give Atwood more space, even though specters don’t really need it. Plus, part of his arm kept overlapping John’s.
“Too much! Everything he did made me furious!” The specter’s eyes flickered blue flames — he was definitely angry. “I used to think he was a good young man, but he actually seduced and kidnapped my daughter!”
“Uh, didn’t Miss Hai Jiu decide to leave on her own?”
“I mean before she died!” The old ghost shivered and made a posture of leaning back, sinking into the backrest. “If not for him… my daughter wouldn’t have died so young. She would have lived, maybe moved abroad, married a fine young man, attended balls, enjoyed life…and only become a specter when she was very old.”
Hearing this, Coraci made a motion of lightly patting the specter’s back and then placed his hand near the outline of his body. “Wu Jiu blamed himself too, sir. Don’t be too harsh. Hai Jiu’s choice wasn’t because of Wu Jiu — it was because she loved you all.”
John gave Coraci a look that said, What exactly happened? Coraci nodded and explained. The Atwood family had five members: Mr. and Mrs. Atwood, his elderly mother, their daughter Hai Jiu, and their youngest son Claude. Claude died before he was two years old, never becoming a specter — he simply ceased to exist. Wu Jiu was their secondary butler. All of them were murdered brutally.
Atwood took over. “I was a businessman. I got on the wrong side of some people I shouldn’t have. I’ll never forget that night… Those thugs broke in and didn’t even spare little Claude. My daughter was visiting her cousin and escaped the massacre, but Wu Jiu… that supposedly loyal butler — he helped her get revenge!”
“Can I say ‘well done’?” Carolyn, who was driving, chimed in.
Atwood clearly didn’t agree but was also a bit intimidated by Carolyn, so he kept mum and muttered, “She could have escaped — even fled the country. If I had the power, I wouldn’t have let her come back. But, as Coraci said, becoming a specter is a long process. Back then, I felt nothing and couldn’t remember who I was. I was just trapped in the house…”
“Yeah, you were just a soul at that point,” Coraci said.
“As the butler, Wu Jiu was killed with us. He was the first to become a specter. He went to see Hai Jiu at our funeral! My poor daughter didn’t dare show her face and could only watch from afar. The masterminds were dangerous, and without evidence, my daughter couldn’t do anything. So Wu Jiu stayed with her and encouraged her to find the ringleaders. They succeeded — she killed them one by one…”
John seemed to remember something. “Sir, is Hai Jiu’s real name… uh, I won’t say it,” he swallowed the specter’s name at Coraci’s warning glance. “But I recall a case: a string of murders involving a wealthy businessman and his son, plus some servants. The killer was a girl disguised as a man…”
“Yes, that’s the case,” Atwood sighed. “There was no proof that those people hired assassins to kill our family. But my daughter was caught during her revenge.” He covered his face, sobbing quietly. “They hanged her… I didn’t witness it, but I can’t imagine what she went through.”
“Sir, you might not believe this…” John scratched his head, marveling at the coincidence. “I might’ve…seen that scene.”
Not only the old specter, but even Coraci looked at him in shock. Carolyn whistled softly as she looked in the rearview mirror. Only Liz — who seemed to have fallen completely asleep, earplugs in and all — had no reaction.
“I was probably a teenager back then — a real teenager, not a turned one,” John said. “That incident caused a huge stir. In that era, women wore long skirts and carried parasols. Forget revenge, even standing too long would make them faint. But she…she killed so many.”
“Was she tortured before she died?” The old specter asked timidly. “She never told me. After all these years, she still won’t tell me.”
“I didn’t get a good look at her,” John replied. “What stuck with me was her last words before execution. She had called out, ‘Don’t worry. Death will let me be with you.’ Everyone talked about it. Some even said the executioner saw her smile as she walked to the gallows…”
The old specter flickered wildly, his color shifting like a human trembling in grief. He muttered, “Excuse me,” and vanished into a place no one could see — probably the trunk.
Coraci’s expression was complicated. He stared ahead, lost in thought.
“John, I never really felt this before…” he said, after a while.
“Felt what?”
“To clearly feel that you’ve lived for so long, through times that none of us have experienced. You don’t usually give off that vibe.”
Coraci still remembered taking out the Association forms for John. Sitting together in the living room, the same four people. John had looked like a kidnapped office worker, nervous and lacking any typical bloodkin aura.
“Actually, the scope of my life is pretty small. Haven’t really experienced much,” John admitted, a bit embarrassed.
“You know, Smith’s been around a long time too,” Coraci said, propping his elbow up next to the car window and resting his head on his hand. “He usually doesn’t seem like a dark creature because he hides it well. Once unmasked, the things he’s seen shock me. But you don’t have that vibe around you. Other dark creatures aside, you are very different from the bloodkin I’ve dealt with before. It’s kind of fascinating.”
The rear door window was more opaque than sunglasses, letting no light through. Coraci still stared out this window.
“Just now, I think I finally felt for the first time that you’re a vampire…” Coraci said softly.
John wasn’t sure how to respond right away. Conversations like this always brought an inexplicable anxiety, much like when he left Sir Kimplin’s estate.
Fortunately, Coraci had just mentioned an interesting loophole that could make their exchange a bit more playful. John reached out and lightly tapped the exposed skin on Coraci’s neck.
“I guess this isn’t the first time you’ve ‘felt’ that I’m a vampire, right?” he said, avoiding direct eye contact and smiling, pretending to be casual.
“Well… no, it’s not the first time.”
Coraci then purposely used a slightly suggestive tone to fire back, “Yeah, I thought last time was pretty good — you were careful, just not very proactive. How about you? How did you feel?”
John immediately regretted joking like that. He pressed a hand to his forehead, wincing like he had a headache.
“Knock it off, you two!” Carolyn suddenly shouted. “I nearly choked on my gum! Coraci, you’re hopeless — first you talk about your ex in front of your current, and now you’re openly discussing your ‘first time’ with John in front of two girls…”
“That really was my first time — being bitten, that is,” Coraci teased, watching John’s expression carefully.
Carolyn went on, “By that logic, I’ve been bitten by vampires seven times! Seven! Plus werewolves and Abyss ants! I can’t even look at my life straight anymore!”
“No vampire who’s bitten you is still alive,” Coraci muttered. “Maybe Burton’s considered half-dead, though…”
…At this point, John was relieved the topic wasn’t dragging on.
Coraci’s teasing had distracted John so much that, instead of recalling the taste of blood (which he figured was because he wasn’t hungry right now), he found himself remembering the feeling of Coraci’s neck.
Soft, warm skin, slightly damp with sweat from the situation back then. The faint trembling of his Adam’s apple under the skin, the faint line of his collarbone visible beneath the open shirt collar…
Before the sharp teeth pierced his skin, there was the gentle brush of lips against his neck. Coraci’s temperature was usually a bit higher than his, and his hands had gripped the feeder’s clothes tightly…
This thought made John quickly pull up a blackout blanket and cover himself completely.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just want to sleep a bit. Bloodkin are supposed to rest during the day.”
John lay under the blackout blanket with his eyes open, forcing his mind to go blank.
Just now, he had felt his eyeballs getting hot — vampires often experience a warming sensation in their eyes just before they turn red in excitement. John worried about losing his composure in front of Carolyn and Liz. It was one thing if only Coraci saw him, but not if everyone saw.
As soon as he calmed down, Coraci suddenly pressed his whole body against John’s, reaching toward John’s neck, feeling for something.
“What are you doing?!” John peeked out from under the blanket.
“Helping you with your seatbelt,” Coraci said in surprise, looking straight at him. “You said you wanted to sleep, right? Bloodkin don’t need the usual sleep cycle — when you want to sleep, you should be able to go dormant immediately.”
“I was just…thinking about some stuff I read,” John fibbed, feeling like a schoolkid. He buckled his seatbelt himself and pulled the blanket back up again.
“Thanks,” he mumbled from beneath the blanket.
“No need. You used to buckle me up when I fell asleep in the car,” Coraci replied.
John heard Coraci pull out and fasten his own seatbelt, his clothing rustling against the seat, and settle into a more comfortable position.
He had helped Coraci with this many times before. He would lean his entire body over, his face so close to Coraci’s — John had thought Coraci was unaware. Now he remembered humans can have light sleep and can notice their surroundings even when drowsy, unlike bloodkin who are completely unresponsive during rest.
To his bloodkin ears, Coraci’s breathing evened out, signaling he too was drifting off.
Carolyn grumbled about her three sleeping coworkers and stepped harder on the gas pedal, venting her frustration.
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