Chapter 78: I Probably Love You
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
When the number of “designed creatures” dropped to a certain point, the sandbox space began to collapse faster. After everyone had left, the abandoned facility in the outskirts returned to its original state; the cultivation pool was just an empty old factory.
Coraci didn’t dare speak much. He kept up a cold, terse demeanor, eyes full of disdain. He feared that his body language might give him away, so he deliberately performed actions he normally wouldn’t: pulling out a small steel flask and pretending to drink from it. Inside was only apple juice.
Like the other Rangers, once he returned to the real world, he immediately vanished from everyone’s sight. Liz and Carolyn were busy tending to Carl and didn’t pay him any attention.
The luckiest person this time was Lathander. He, like John and Carl, had accidentally wandered into the sandbox space, wasting several days lost in its maze. He encountered no danger along the way and spent the entire time snapping photos on his phone. Even as the space collapsed, he remained convinced he had been transported to New Zealand.
Back at the house in the suburbs of West Bay City, John showed no signs of fatigue. He even felt like his blood was boiling — though, of course, that was impossible for a bloodkin.
He changed into loungewear, pulled out cleaning supplies from the closet, and started tidying the whole house, focusing especially on Coraci’s bedroom.
At first, when he had stayed here alone, John hadn’t dared approach that room — not because it held secrets, but simply because it made him uncomfortable. And the idea of “cleaning a house no one lived in” sounded strange, almost like a tragic scene: a family member dies, and the others continue to clean the room as if nothing had changed… John firmly believed Coraci was fine, and he didn’t want to make life so depressing.
Coraci’s mother, Devine — perhaps she should be called Mira — had long since left West Bay City. She had to fly back to the U.S., where the Association’s Salt Lake City office needed to conduct a series of interrogations and investigations on her.
Before leaving, she learned John was living in the old house. Her advice was blunt: Don’t make excuses like “it seems too gloomy.” You’re just lazy. At the very least, buy some dust covers. Better yet, periodically fill all of Coraci’s wardrobes and bookshelves with camphor, otherwise insects will infest them.
John apologized sincerely. He had nothing to do with Coraci’s family, yet he now lived in their house.
Devine laughed. “It’s fine. Houses need maintenance, your rescued charges need a place to stay, and Coraci needs someone waiting for him to come home.”
These days, John often hummed to himself while cleaning windows at midnight, and every morning he hoped someone would ring the doorbell.
He couldn’t share this anticipation with anyone. Coraci’s return was a secret; he had to remain hidden forever.
In the sandbox space, Coraci had said he could survive without eating or drinking, though he could digest food normally if he chose to. Out of habit, he occasionally ate. So John stocked the house with processed foods and snacks. With guests often staying on the second floor, it wasn’t strange for a bloodkin to buy food.
At the time, the second floor housed a family of Ural bear-people. The father and mother had come to West Bay City years ago for work. Now, with a son and daughter, they were preparing to return home. Their legal status had expired, and they were staying temporarily while waiting for new documents.
The four bear-people didn’t need any disguise indoors; they could fully show their brown bear forms. When they stood in a line, their heights formed a slope: father, mother, older brother, then little sister. Every day, John returned home to see them standing this way to greet him.
“This snack bag is for you,” John told them, “but don’t touch the one in the cupboard. A…newly acquainted friend is coming to visit me these days. Don’t worry; he knows my work and won’t be scared of you. My only rule is that you clean up after yourselves. Don’t leave crumbs all over the carpet! You’ve been living here less than two weeks, and the cockroaches are practically throwing daily festivals.”
“Ah, friends! Friends are good,” Bear Father said, rifling through his share of the food. “We love hosting friends. Your friend is our friend. Why not throw a party? John, should we get some vodka?”
“No need for vodka…”
“How can welcoming friends happen without alcohol? And no matter how much you drink, you won’t get drunk. What’s there to be afraid of?”
“We don’t drink, thank you. That’s just your personal taste. I really can’t give you alcohol here. Once you leave on the plane, no one will stop you.”
“No, someone will manage him.” Bear Mother nudged her husband with her hip.
John had a busy night. After putting things down, he had to rush to the Association to submit a report and deliver a new shapewear outfit to the zombie Miss Adele’s grave. Adele had once trusted only Coraci, allowing no one else to see her face. After several encounters, she now trusted John as well.
With John’s help, Adele climbed out of the grave, donned the new shapewear, and handed him a box of handmade rings to deliver to the Association. As fellow undead, John and Adele occasionally exchanged tips on staying out of the world’s way, admired the night sky, and talked about Coraci.
Adele wasn’t the only one. Many creatures had asked John about Coraci’s whereabouts. Master Joseph, for instance, claimed he had lost a kilogram and found canned cat food tasteless ever since Coraci disappeared. The Bewildering Monster Farr couple, after returning from a trip, hadn’t seen Coraci. Distraught, they stumbled upon a tweet calling Coraci “the contemporary Bluebeard punished by fate” and devoted themselves to online debate defending his reputation, a campaign that continued to this day.
Coraci might be coming back, but John couldn’t let anyone know. Though it felt a little bittersweet, a sense of pride rose in him: compared to marks or bonds, this kind of “known only to each other” connection seemed to show just how special they were to one another.
On the way back from the cemetery, John felt Coraci. The effect of the mark — within a certain range, John could sense Coraci’s approximate location and life status.
He felt a rush of happiness and instinctively stepped on the gas pedal harder. Judging by distance, Coraci was now on the other side of West Bay City, still outside the urban area, moving toward the old house. He would have to make quite a detour.
John arrived before Coraci. After parking and making sure the bear-people family was asleep, he went outside, standing at the bottom of the stone steps.
It was early morning. Facing the direction Coraci might come from, he could feel the distance between them shrinking, Coraci’s presence growing clearer.
About an hour later, a tiny car appeared in the distance on the road. An old pale yellow MINI, much like the one Mr. Bean drove. It moved very slowly, trembling slightly.
John sensed clearly that Coraci was in the car. But Coraci had never driven before — did he really learn in the past three years?
As the car drew closer, John realized that a woman in white was driving. Coraci sat in the passenger seat. John felt a sudden wave of helplessness; his stance slackened, realizing Coraci hadn’t come alone as he’d expected.
The car stopped. Coraci stepped out and gave John a hug by the roadside. John stiffened. If not for the passenger, he might have embraced more warmly — but now, he could only pat Coraci’s back in a friendly gesture.
“Remember Darling Town?” Coraci asked, his first words on meeting him.
“I don’t remember,” John replied.
“The one I mentioned in the sandbox space. I said I’d go there first after leaving the sandbox, then come find you, because the Association needed to get involved with some matters in Darling Town.”
John nodded. He remembered, but he didn’t want to talk about it. No, even delaying the conversation would have been fine.
The woman in the pale yellow car called out, “Where should I park?” Coraci pointed, and the trembling car navigated the slope, bypassing the steps to the garage at the side-rear of the house.
Coraci turned back to John. “By the way, there’s something I want to confirm.”
“What?”
“Since three years ago, and even a few days back in the sandbox,” Coraci brushed his hair from his eyes. His hairstyle was messy — basically nonexistent now. “Judging from everything that’s happened…we don’t seem to be partners anymore. But we’re not just friends, either. What do you think…”
“I’ve thought about it too,” John said, eyes on the ground. Talking honestly about “relationships” was always more awkward than any action. “I’ve considered — can you accept a vampire? I think you can. You’ve even accepted a shapeshifter before. I wondered… can you accept a man? Seems like you also can. You even registered as a civil partner with a shapeshifter.”
Coraci paused. “So your conclusion is?”
John glanced around. Early morning, a quiet road, a bear family asleep inside the house, some unknown creature parking a car behind the house. Not exactly a romantic setting.
But he said it anyway. Something he had known for three years, but only now spoke aloud. “I think… I probably love you? And…you can probably accept that too, right?”
Coraci froze for several seconds. His gaze drifted for a while before he finally murmured, “…Why did you phrase it as a question?”
John said seriously, “I was afraid that a simple declaration could turn into a command to you.”
“Alright, thanks for your consideration,” Coraci stepped closer. “You got everything right. But I need to add a few details.”
“What details?”
“First, don’t worry about whether I could accept bloodkin. You can accept ‘devil fragments’, so why couldn’t I accept bloodkin? Second…stop using my ex-wife as an example, okay?”
Coraci paused, then added, “Also…I feel some guilt toward you.”
“About what?” John asked.
“I won’t be a good lover. When most people get together, they can go on a date at the theater, open gifts together on Christmas, tell colleagues about their relationship… I can’t do any of that. I don’t even know if I ever will…maybe we never will.”
“That’s fine. I have time. And now, so do you.”
John smiled, cupping Coraci’s face. They leaned in, eyes closing gently.
Their noses barely touched when a loud crash came from the garage.
“Oh my god, I should have told you to help him park,” Coraci said, running up the steps.
“What?” John chased after him. “You said ‘him’? The driver is male?”
“Don’t you care that he hit something? That Skoda in the garage? You’ve had that car for years!”
John muttered to himself, I’m more concerned about the rare moment of intimacy being interrupted by a car accident...
Coraci stopped, turned back on the steps, and kissed John hurriedly but firmly. In an instant, all of John’s complaints vanished.
Fortunately, the pale yellow MINI hadn’t hit the Skoda — it had crashed into a shelving unit by the wall instead. The person in the car kept apologizing profusely while John took charge of repositioning the vehicle.
It was clear that the car was ancient; the engine groaned miserably, and the frame creaked with every move, reminiscent of the Bunker’s Mr. Russell.
The driver was a slender youth in a short white robe, with silver hair reaching his ankles. His features were delicate, skin pale, and his voice retained the youthful tone from before puberty. From a distance, he looked more like a girl than a boy.
“Thank you. You may call me Jožef,” the youth said to John, bowing with hands folded at his chest in a very old-fashioned gesture. “This is a secular name. My true name I cannot reveal. To be brief, I need assistance. I originally intended to ask the hunter — he said my identity is unusual, and it would be best to file it with the Association. He also said you could provide better help.” The “hunter” he mentioned was Coraci.
“May I ask… you are a…?” John opened the door, and the three of them stepped inside. From upstairs came the deep snores of the four bears.
“He’s a god,” Coraci answered for Jožef.
“A what?”
“A god,” Coraci said. “Not in the religious sense. A Forest Spirit.”
John knew of Forest Spirits. In ancient times, the deities worshiped by humans were essentially Forest Spirits. They were an ancient race from thousands of years ago, connected to elemental creatures and the bloodlines of elves — different species with the same origin, like mammoths and modern elephants.
Forest Spirits were rare, long-lived, and had innate magical powers capable of protecting land and water and granting other creatures miraculous abilities. In the past, they were effectively gods.
“I have two matters I need your help with,” Jožef said as he sat down, silver hair fanning across the sofa and carpet. “Centuries ago, I traveled to what is now Darling Town — though at that time, it didn’t exist yet. I was defeated by local compatriots and forced to sign a thousand-year contract, bound to serve that land, like…an unfair labor contract. Since then, my life centered on an ancient tree outside Darling Town. My range of activity extended at most to the suburbs of West Bay City — this area.”
John silently marveled. This youth, dressed like an ancient mythological figure, barefoot and pantless, knew about labor contracts…and could drive.
“Now, the person who bound me is gone,” Jožef said, lifting his robe to reveal a golden magical sigil on his thigh. “No one knows where he went. I don’t even remember where he came from. Either he has long forgotten, or he’s dead. In any case, the contract expired — but I cannot regain freedom unless someone removes this mark.”
“I intend to help remove the mark,” Coraci said. “Actually, many people can do it. It was harder to do this in ancient times, but modern exorcists find it easy.”
“Why is that?” John asked.
“Both casting and removing require special materials. In the past, they were difficult to refine and produce. Now, current chemical technology allows exorcists to obtain them directly.”
Coraci pulled several boxes of magical tools from a nearby bookshelf — things John didn’t recognize — and said he would fetch more from the study.
Jožef looked at him gratefully. Once Coraci went upstairs, John asked the little god, “So…besides removing the mark, there’s still one more thing you need the Association’s help with?”
John handed Jožef a form to fill out. The first time he had entered this house, he had filled out one himself; the Association required basic information from any supernatural creature they had contact with.
Jožef took the pen and paper. “Yes. There’s another somewhat…awkward matter. I have been in Darling Town for centuries, using my powers to bless the land and answer prayers. Over time…a belief system formed around me.”
John tried not to laugh. “That doesn’t sound bad.”
“No, it’s not good. My followers have turned it into a cult! They make money from it. The so-called high priest even uses my name to seduce young men and women.”
John could no longer contain himself. He bent his head and shook with laughter. A god from at least a thousand years ago reporting his own followers for running a cult…
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” John said, “it’s just… surprising. Since you’re planning to remove the mark and leave, the human ‘cult’ is irrelevant, right? That’s not the Association’s business; that would be a matter for the human police.”
Coraci was just descending from the third floor carrying materials and explained, “No, human police can’t handle this. I once glimpsed the so-called ‘religious leader’ from afar… He’s not human.”
Author’s Note:
This chapter’s title really feels like a romance TV drama… OTL
Next up: Blackmoon’s older brother appears… (of course he’s unrelated to the cult).
Regarding vodka: I actually know nothing about alcohol, but seeing bears reminded me of a certain nationality, which made me think of vodka…and I’d also recently read a story mentioning it, so I wrote vodka in.
Mr. Bean’s car: just picture it — it’s recognizable even if I don’t describe it fully.
From The Unthreatening Creature Protection Association’s Guide to Unscientific Monsters:
Forest Spirits:
Forest Spirits are long-lived humanoid beings with certain magical abilities. Ancient magical bestiaries link them with elemental beings, spirit classes (such as fairies and furnace spirits), and elves (the beautiful, skilled archers of legend). These creatures share certain hereditary traits.
Forest Spirits excel at healing minor illnesses, enriching soil and water, and improving crop growth and quality. They can even make already-cooked fries taste noticeably better.
Many consider Forest Spirits akin to mountain deities. In ancient times, druids revered them — not because they were gods, but out of deep respect and love for nature.
A defining trait of all Forest Spirits is that, no matter their age, they retain a touch of childlike immaturity and playful spirit.
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