Chapter 54: Family Style
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
Lavender powder, thyme leaves… These were easy to find, stocked right in the Association’s spell ingredient storeroom.
Collecting hair from a calico cat — three distinct colors from the same animal, and enough to cover its torso, then burning it all into ash — meant bothering the head of the Katehouse family: spirit beast Master Joseph.
Joseph only had yellow and white fur, but he could command his subordinates to offer up theirs. When John shaved the soft calico cat, he felt a pang of guilt, as though he weren’t trimming cat hair but shearing the head of a young woman.
“Bear with it, child,” Joseph said, sitting cross-legged in a human-like posture before the kitten. “You’re just losing a little fur. It will grow back. A small price to pay — every one of your kin in the park will get more canned food!”
The calico mewed a few times, settling obediently on John’s lap.
“What did she say?” John asked.
Joseph spread his paws. “She says that we men are selfish, always sacrificing women’s interests at critical moments.”
John shrugged apologetically at the cat. He never imagined he’d one day have such a serious conversation with a cat.
A few hours earlier, Coraci had been lying on a sofa, a hot towel scented with rose essential oil draped over his forehead and eyes, a fleece blanket covering him.
It wasn’t his own home. A young girl in a blue work uniform emerged from an inner room and set a cup of coffee on the coffee table beside him.
“You okay?” she asked tentatively. Her outfit resembled a dental nurse’s uniform, and Coraci couldn’t help but think that comparing visiting Lucian to visiting the dentist wasn’t far off.
“I’m fine…much better already,” Coraci replied weakly.
“Can you bend and stretch your legs now?”
“Yes, don’t worry. I’m a researcher too, so it’s fine. I just suffered a serious mental trauma and need to lie down a bit longer.”
At that moment, Lucian appeared, looking half-asleep. “You should go home,” he said. “This experiment was somewhat painful, and I don’t know how to thank you. The results aren’t clear yet, but the research process itself was meaningful.”
Coraci grunted casually. He didn’t want to think about what had just happened. Although he had volunteered — and no physical harm had come to him — this was Lucian’s private villa, or more accurately, a small research lab. A magical scholar’s experiments were no fun. If it weren’t mutually beneficial, Coraci would never have volunteered.
He wanted to know whether he was safe, and until he had a definitive answer, he didn’t want his friends from the Association to know. Lucian would keep secrets; he was a typical Blackmoon scholar, never speaking about things unrelated to research.
Coraci had heard that, even in ancient times, Beastkin or demons could go insane in a mage’s lab. Mages liked cleanliness and wouldn’t create a blood-soaked room, but the experience for the test subjects was hardly comfortable.
Of course, Coraci knew that Lucian had gone relatively easy on him. Aside from situations where anesthesia couldn’t be used, he had given drugs to reduce pain whenever possible. Lucian’s female assistant was also considerate, offering her hand for Coraci to squeeze — though he had declined.
Even so, everything felt like a nightmare. Coraci had considered stopping, but whenever he thought of the doubts buried deep in his heart, he chose to continue. The exorcists at the Association’s headquarters had examined him before, but found nothing — they had conducted only basic testing, as courteous and simple as drawing a single tube of blood.
Coraci was a spellcaster himself and he was very clear that he himself carried something unusual. Russell had said it might be another hidden capability of a Knower. Coraci hoped the conclusion would be just that. He wanted answers, and Lucian wanted meaningful research.
The assistant changed out of her work uniform and prepared to drive Coraci home. Lately, Coraci had been leaving each morning and returning before evening, so he could be home or at the Association’s office before John woke up.
Before leaving, Lucian hesitated, then called after him. “I heard Lizbeth’s having some trouble…”
“She’s fine. The one in trouble is her partner,” Coraci replied.
“That’s the same as saying she’s in trouble,” Lucian sighed sadly. “She always gets herself into trouble. She doesn’t care for family or knowledge, preferring short-sighted pursuits.”
Coraci wanted to say, “The Association isn’t short-sighted,” but he held back. Lucian simply wasn’t like Liz.
“I have a younger brother and a younger sister,” Lucian murmured, almost to himself. “I always hoped Lizbeth would be the successor, but her mind isn’t on that.”
On the way to drop Coraci off, the assistant kept talking — of course, only saying what the Blackmoon family allowed her to say, and what she actually knew. Perhaps she usually repressed herself — after all, Lucian wasn’t exactly a humorous man.
Among other things, she mentioned that Lucian really hoped Liz would inherit the family in the future. His other younger brother, she explained, was more like their mother — a born merchant rather than a mage.
“That’s strange. I thought these families always passed inheritance to the eldest son,” Coraci said.
The girl agreed. “I think it’s strange too. Of course, Lizbeth is far more interesting than Lucian — probably because of the big age gap. Lucian would rather immerse himself in research for the rest of his life. Managing the family would be a death sentence for him. Yet in the Blackmoon family, the researcher must inherit — the merchant can’t…”
She continued chattering on, giving her opinions, when Coraci’s phone rang. It was John. As he pressed the call button, Coraci felt an unexpected nervousness.
“Hey, you’re up early.”
“Yeah. I’ll be heading to the Association soon to archive the materials we’ve collected. Where are you?”
“I went to the dentist,” Coraci said, glancing at the girl driving, who muffled a laugh.
“No wonder you sound so weak,” John said. “By the way, Liz called me a little while ago. Something serious apparently happened.”
“About the potion?”
“Seems like something else. Have you finished at the dentist? Do you want me to come get you?”
“No, I’m on my way to the Association. See you there.”
Coraci hung up and let out a long breath.
The girl driving teased him. “You look so nervous, like you’re sneaking out on a date and telling your wife you’re working late.”
“Way worse than that…” Coraci replied with a self-deprecating smile.
When Coraci arrived at the Association’s office, Liz was already waiting there with Carolyn. For once, Carolyn hadn’t dressed up as a movie character — she wore a simple plaid shirt and sweatpants, slumped on the sofa, a look of utter despair on her face.
All of her leisure activities had been stolen by those damn hallucinations. Even looking at a phone screen produced different images and text, making it impossible to use. In her own words, “If it weren’t for the male versions of Liz and Mariana being so good-looking, I wouldn’t have the courage to open my eyes in the morning.”
“Look at this,” Liz said, handing Coraci a printout. “We’ve nearly finished preparing the materials for the oral potion. The external antidote is the tricky part.” The printout showed both the original text and Liz’s translation notes.
“Tears?” That was the first word that caught Coraci’s eye.
“The tears of successfully cured victims,” Liz explained. “After taking the oral ingredients, you drip these tears into the eyes, like eye drops. Only then will the hallucinations fully disappear.”
“Can we still find anyone who’s fully recovered?”
“Yes, abroad. We’ve already reported Carolyn’s case, and the Association has emailed the Hunter Society and research institutions worldwide. Luckily, there really was one survivor still alive.
Coraci nodded and continued reading. Most victims had never had a chance to heal. Yet to seek treatment, they needed to find a fully healed survivor — a true contradiction.
The tears weren’t limited to humans. Any species that could cry could be used, as long as it had been infected by the Phantasmal Bug and had completely recuperated.
The receptionist Erica knocked and came in. “Hi. The Menkovár family replied to our email — they said they can arrange a referral.”
“Menkovár?” Coraci and Liz said in unison.
Erica nodded. “Yes. We found survivors in two places. One is a bloodkin from the Menkovár family; the other is from a shapeshifter family in the Middle East. The latter hasn’t responded, but Menkovárs said they’d cooperate.”
Carolyn slumped on the sofa, muttering, “…vampires and shapeshifters can cry?”
“They can. I’ve seen Smith cry,” Coraci said, thinking back. “Watching Pan’s Labyrinth together, he cried so much that black eyeshadow ran down his face in vertical lines.”
“Then have you ever seen John cry?”
“Not yet…but theoretically, bloodkin can cry.”
“To be safe, can I try?” Carolyn asked.
“What are you planning to do…”
“Just a test. I’ll be careful. What if they can’t cry?” Carolyn interlaced her fingers and pressed her knuckles.
As they talked, Erica peeked into the hallway. “Hmm? John, you’re here? Why are you standing outside instead of coming in?”
Hearing her say that, Coraci stuck his head out. John stood outside, looking conflicted. No one wanted to walk into a room where they were discussing how to make someone cry.
“I promise vampires can cry, okay?” John stayed close to the wall as he stepped inside. “My sister cries all the time — I’ve seen it myself.”
Coraci handed him the printout. “Do you remember? We’ve met members of the Menkovár family. Last time in Romania.”
“I remember. I heard their family also funds the Association.”
Liz propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Ugh, Menkovár again…”
“What’s wrong with the Menkovárs?” Coraci asked.
Before Liz could answer, Erica — who always seemed to know a little about every rumor — chimed in. “Ah, I heard…the Blackmoon family had an ancestor in the Menkovár family?”
“What do you mean, ‘in’ the Menkovár family?” John asked.
Liz replied, “It means that ancestor no longer belongs to the Blackmoons. Now he belongs to the Menkovárs.”
“She married a vampire?”
“No, ‘he.’ He became a vampire. He no longer uses the Blackmoon name.” Liz didn’t bother hiding it — it had happened centuries ago and was mostly irrelevant to the current Blackmoon family.
Erica flipped through her notes. “Could that gentleman happen to be named ‘Arthur’? The survivor willing to provide tears has the same name. Though it’s a common name…”
“Oh my god… that’s him.”
Dealing with domain bloodkin was extremely tricky. For ordinary people, collecting tears was simple: the provider cried, the tears were collected and mailed — convenient for both parties. But negotiating with a domain bloodkin doesn’t work that way.
Whenever you needed their tears, hair, blood… or anything like that, no matter how trivial, you had to meet them in person and perform the magic or prepare the potion right in front of them. They had to supervise to make sure you weren’t using the tears for anything else. It was a matter of personal safety for bloodkin.
Coraci and John submitted a request to the Association, planning to accompany Liz. After all, Carolyn was barely able to manage her own daily life. Taking care of her was like looking after a preschooler.
After getting a map and checking online for details about the island, John’s first reaction was, “Is this Arthur crazy?”
They would first fly to Bangkok, where the Menkovár heir would meet them, then take a private plane to the resort island.
Arthur was currently on a small private island in southern Thailand. It was a custom resort island, closed to ordinary tourists, and wealthy visitors often rented it for days or even months.
A vampire…on a tropical island vacation! Even an ancient creature immune to sunlight would find the heat uncomfortable.
“I think he’s insane too,” Liz muttered as she booked plane tickets. “Did you see the notice their family sent? They want us to wear formal attire!”
“I saw it. Why?” John asked.
“Who knows? Maybe they’re hosting a party. Domain bloodkin are like that — idle, extravagant, and love to show off.”
“Remember the last time we met the Shiva family?” Coraci said. “We spent the whole day listening to a lecture on their family history and only met a single representative.”
Liz closed her laptop and lifted Carolyn up from the sofa.
“Once the formalities are handled, I’ll let you know when we’re leaving. Coraci, make sure John has proper formalwear — of course, he doesn’t need to wear it the entire time. Just don’t let him show up in that cheap salesman suit.”
She thought for a moment and added, “And don’t let him wear yours. A slight size mismatch will look awful. Go to a store and pick off-the-rack clothes. Although it’s not custom, it’s better than just grabbing anything.”
As she pulled Carolyn away, she continued, “You can wear my clothes, even if you think of yourself as a man…”
Coraci gave John a sly wink. “See that? She’s also from the Blackmoon family. They really care about appearances.”
“Who else have you met from the Blackmoons?” John asked.
Coraci felt an odd nervousness. “Uh…nobody else.” He realized that the last time the Association had dealings with Lucian was because of that demon incident — but John had never met Lucian.
“I heard Liz has two older brothers — one’s in business, the other’s a magic expert and a university professor.”
“Liz’s brothers…” John chuckled for some reason. “I guess they look exactly like Liz in Carolyn’s eyes right now.”
Coraci laughed along, quietly planning to send Lucian an email to postpone the next experiment. He also reminded himself he couldn’t send it from home — John might notice. Coraci told himself it wasn’t really deception. As long as the final outcome was good, it would be as if nothing had happened. He didn’t want John burdened with the same kind of worry that weighed on him.
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