Golden sunlight shimmered on the Strait of Georgia, where a few fishing boats bobbed gently.
Within a small, wood-fenced courtyard, I sat on a stool, meticulously cleaning my scabbard with a cloth.
While the young widow wasn't a trained medic, the mad man's frequent injuries had given her some practical experience.
At least, she had managed to staunch the bleeding and re-bandage Colt McCoy and Ethan Atzmon, restoring a semblance of normalcy to their battered forms.
When Noa Atzmon regained consciousness, she promptly administered H.A.R.M. medications, temporarily stabilizing their vital signs.
She emerged from the cottage, her ponytail undone, strands of disheveled hair framing her pale cheeks. Her labored breaths and weary posture spoke of the tremendous energy she had expended during the previous night's ordeal.
Noa's usual coquettish air had faded, and her typically vibrant lips were now slightly chapped.
Staring at me, she seemed to be connecting the dots between my present self and the figure she had seen last night.
She tugged at the corner of her lips, her voice hoarse. "Where are the others?"
"They were just exhausted, not seriously injured," I replied, setting down the cloth. "They woke up earlier and went to the police station to retrieve the horses."
Noa Atzmon dragged another stool over and sat beside me, propping her chin on her palm. She seemed to want to ask something but couldn't find the words, so she simply stared at me in silence.
Unable to bear her scrutiny any longer, I frowned and raised an eyebrow.
A chuckle escaped her lips, and her eyes sparkled with admiration. "So you really are quite good at killing vampires."
Although the villagers had blocked her view, the sea god's piercing scream still echoed in her ears. Only the fear of death could make a proud sea god lose her composure like that.
"I thought you would surely die," she confessed, "when you chased after the crimson mist."
Though uncertain of the vampire's exact nature, she had witnessed the sea god's unwavering confidence.
It was a look of absolute trust and admiration. The sea lion hadn't expected me to be the one returning.
"I'm glad you didn't think that," Noa said simply. She stood up, suppressing a smile, and bowed to me without hesitation.
If I had prioritized my own safety, the most logical course of action would have been to rush back to H.A.R.M. headquarters and report the situation.
Facing a vampire far beyond my realm, victory was unlikely. Retreating under the pretense of seeking reinforcements wouldn't have been heavily criticized, even by H.A.R.M. standards.
Her sudden shift to seriousness caught me off guard.
I waved my hand dismissively, but before I could speak, my arm was tightly embraced in a vast expanse of warmth, which reminded me of Priya Patel, only more generous.
"Haha," Noa's carefree demeanor returned as she clung to my arm, playfully complaining, "You nearly scared me to death! I couldn't even move a finger, yet I had to maintain a calm facade. Only the Sea God wasn't fooled by my acting. It's so frustrating!"
She twirled her fingers dramatically, then added in a mock-serious tone, "When you walked over, I was on the verge of tears. Thankfully, you're so handsome, and I wanted to preserve my image, so I held back."
Speechless, I pulled my arm away. "Nice try."
When the spear descended, there hadn't been a trace of fear in her expression, only a soft sigh, and then she calmly executed the village chief.
The women of H.A.R.M. seemed to possess a remarkable resilience.
Her infectious smile softened the imperceptible edge in my eyes as I turned away.
Perhaps from the moment I woke up in Velvet Pleasure, I was in a reckless and uninhibited mindset, so I didn't notice anything unusual.
As I gradually shed the remnants of my past self and embraced the path of righteousness, I found myself strangely accustomed to days marked by bloodshed. The absence of violence now felt unsettling.
Violence is a tool for survival in this chaotic world, I reminded myself, but I mustn't become its slave.
I took a deep breath, my mind clearing. Then, I turned my attention to the courtyard.
The young widow approached, holding a bundle of borrowed clothes. "Sir," she said respectfully, "would you like to change? I couldn't find any new ones, but these are all clean."
The madman trailed behind her, his head bowed, a stark contrast to his previous manic state.
He glanced at me with a mixture of gratitude and fear.
"It's best not to change if you can," Noa interjected, shaking her head. "Returning with such an appearance and accomplishments will help you establish yourself quickly within H.A.R.M."
I agreed.
Putting the clothes down, the young widow produced a measuring tape, her voice hesitant. "May I measure your shoulder width?"
Noa seemed to grasp the situation and, this time, didn't object. She took the tape from the widow and gestured for me to stand.
"What's this for?" I asked, slightly perplexed.
"Perhaps she's making clothes for you," Noa explained, "to send to Seattle as a token of gratitude."
She held the tape and carefully took my measurements, even accounting for the sword at my waist.
Once finished, she relayed the numbers to the widow and dismissed her with a wave.
"Thank you, Madame," the young widow replied, her gaze averted. The woman who had been so assertive yesterday now seemed timid in my presence.
But it wasn't solely fear I detected in her eyes.
The expression was vaguely familiar, though I couldn't place where I'd seen it before.
The widow and the madman ventured out again, only to bump into a man rushing by. He thrust a piece of sea lion meat, tied with a grass rope, into their hands and hurried off to the next house.
"He... he's gone to almost every household in the village," the young widow remarked, a hint of helplessness in her voice as she picked up the sea lion meat.
The man I had forced to eat the Sea God's flesh yesterday was now desperate for everyone else to taste this delicacy. It seemed the only way to alleviate his guilt was to share it.
And only by consuming this sea lion meat could they confront the lies they had been fed.
Vampires, after all, don't raise three hundred children in the sea.
Drowning is drowning. Children don't return on the waves, nor do they lead you to the sea god's underwater palace.
Once the veil of deception was lifted, such a self-evident truth would inevitably bring shame upon them.
"In times of great famine, people eat their own children. It was done out of necessity," Noa Atzmon observed.
"The one who eats people is ultimately a vampire. If it's useful, the villagers worship it; if it's useless, they eat it," she continued. "This is the way of survival for ordinary people."
"H.A.R.M. agents don't fish or farm. Ultimately, we also feed on the people. Not only can we not provide food for them, but we also take more from their mouths. We stand on a pedestal, and if we criticize too much, it seems unkind."
Noa placed her hand on my shoulder, her bright eyes twinkling. "Agent Kane, please be merciful, okay?"
Someone with ulterior motives had deliberately ingrained this great sacrifice into the fishermen's minds, making it seem like an inviolable ancestral tradition.
Yesterday, over a dozen people, including the village chief, had tried to kill me.
"They didn't think of sparing you yesterday," I pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
"Was this uniform worn in vain?" Noa pouted, tugging at the stars on her sleeve. "Those who attacked deserve to die, but the rest... without their daily labor, how would we have our salaries and food? Hey, don't brush my hand away, you're acting like a delicate flower. Can't even be touched."
"Go away." I casually brushed her hand off my shoulder.
Since Velvet Pleasure, I haven't committed any atrocities, only sought to protect myself.
How come in this woman's mouth, I sound like a ruthless killer?