The Third Circumstance
Chapter
The choice for Semmelweis each morning is, in itself, rather simple: to awaken or not.
And if she does choose to get up, the first thought in her mind would prescribe just what kind of “awakening” today will bring.
There are three such awakenings for her. The first and best is one that launches her rapidly into action.
A thought, sometimes brought up from her dreams, that reveals an unconsidered path or a fresh view of an older task.
If she is lucky, she might uncover a new clue, like finding the missing piece to a long forgotten puzzle.
The second is decidedly less pleasant. It comes as a gripping anxiety that clutches hard in her chest, reminding her in dramatic fashion that she is still alive, whether she likes it or not.
As for the third …
(Rehab Center, Laplace)
Emil
- Captain, you’re finally awake! Apparently, you’ve been sleeping for nearly 14 hours.
Semmelweis sits up from the bed. Her nightmares fading like distant echoes absorbed into the sterile walls around her.
Emil stands, cradling a brown paper bag in his left arm. Its contents—nearly spilling out—show themselves to be otherwise unremarkable groceries.
Each step he takes is accompanied by the clinking of bottles.
Semmelweis
- Are you about to throw a party here?
Emil
- Pretty much.
Semmelweis
- I advise you to reconsider.
Emil
- Go ahead, ask me to leave, but you ought to know I’m not that easy to get rid of.
- Laplace isn’t exactly just around the block. I thought I’d bring as many supplies as I could.
- You’re recovering quite well, Captain! Seems like you’ve managed to pass the first test. They haven’t labelled you a “Dangerous Patient.” You should be in the clear now that you’ve passed the rejection phase after your transformation.
Semmelweis
- It’s only just begun. I’ve been battling headaches and drifting in and out of consciousness. When I wake, “Fishbowl Face” permits me only to stare up at the ceiling.
Emil
- “Fishbowl Face”?
Semmelweis
- The individual responsible for my health. I have, as yet, resisted the urge to ask if that helmet makes her neck crooked.
Emil
- If you want to survive, you’re going to have to listen to the doctor’s orders, Captain. No two-ways about it. The Foundation needs you.
Semmelweis
- I know that. Besides, these present restrictions have made me appreciate the little joys of life all the more.
Semmelweis grabs a bottled water from Emil’s bag and takes a long, gulping drink from it, catching Emil looking over at her with a raised eyebrow.
Semmelweis
- You have some thoughts on my appearance?
Emil
- Oh, no, not at all. But … how can I put it? It’s like seeing glimpses of the old you beneath a more savage exterior.
- I mean, I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile.
Semmelweis
- It has never been my habit to smile without reason.
Emil
- No, but this is different. You’re still you, but there is a completely different persona too. It’s a little strange, is all.
Semmelweis
- I think perhaps you’re just misremembering this “old me.”
Emil shakes his head, hiding the curve of an expectant grin.
Emil
- You know, they reassigned me after the “Storm.” I’m a logistics driver now.
Semmelweis
- A driver?
Emil
- Yeah, I get the feeling they didn’t think too highly of my work at the Foundation.
- So I made a few mistakes, forgot to adjust my comms on a mission or two. Maybe announced our position on a public channel, nothing major!
- But hey, I should just stick to what I know best—working on cases with you, Captain.
Semmelweis
- I thought you didn’t care for work that made you perspire.
Emil
- Doesn’t matter. It’s what I’m good at! That and driving … Oh, by the way, my driving assessment is next week. I’ve been cramming all the names and routes every chance I get.
- Agh, maybe all that recklessness is why the Foundation called me back after the “Storm,” so I could return to doing what I’m good at—playing the game.
Semmelweis
- You mean, like sneaking in past visiting hours to visit a high-profile patient?
Emil
- It’s not sneaking! I gave a heads-up to the Laplace staff who usually ride with me.
- Besides, why would the Foundation even care about the movements of a logistics driver? All I do is chauffeur our staff around, besides a few odd occasions where I’m called to “cooperate.”
- Sure, I don’t always play by the rules, but haven’t I delivered results? Especially with driving.
Semmelweis
- If you keep being as clueless as you are now, whatever happens next will be on you, Emil.
Emil
- Thanks, Captain, duly noted.
- Anyway, I learned a lot under your command in the past, and I’m still committed to doing my job well, especially when it comes to your health, Captain.
- Anyway, I see it’s time for your check-up—remember to follow the doctor’s advice and eat healthy!
Semmelweis
- I make no promises. I cannot stand the very idea of health foods; they go against my dietary beliefs.
(Rehab Center Hallway, Laplace)
Semmelweis arrives punctually, as usual.
“Fishbowl Face” fidgets with her headgear as she speaks, a tinge of worry, perhaps.
She speaks haltingly, bouncing over each word.
“Fishbowl Face”
- Did you sleep well last night?
Semmelweis
- No. The screams returned, and in my nightmares, I was killing people.
- But for now, the monster is still hiding under the bed. It could be much worse.
“Fishbowl Face”
- The days ahead will be tougher. Each new episode will begin soon after the last one ends.
- Firstly, you should take your blood supplements on time. While they aren’t a replacement for real blood—
Semmelweis
- —They are nothing like blood! If you will pardon me, Doctor. I would prefer to spare my stomach.
“Fishbowl Face”
- You’ve been abstaining from blood for forty-eight days now.
Semmelweis
- Yes, life is ever a mix of hardships and misfortunes, isn’t it? Will I be permitted to leave soon?
“Fishbowl Face”
- The Timekeeper has already signed your discharge papers. Someone will be in touch with you soon.
- However, your photo-sensitivity has gotten markedly worse. You should be careful to avoid any exposure to sunlight at all.
- And about the burns, we can’t let that happen again. Do you remember my instructions?
Semmelweis raises her hand to brush her thick, long hair aside, covering the scars on her neck.
Semmelweis
- Yes, of course.
“Fishbowl Face”
- Also, remember to take the injections I gave you. If you continue to abstain, it will make your days easier.
- Best-case scenario is that it will satisfy your thirst for a while; however, in the worst case, it might make the beast more eager for power and control.
Semmelweis
- And is there any way to be rid entirely of this vampirism?
“Fishbowl Face”
- Oh! Here we go again! It’s the same old thing from every patient.
- You can’t stand the smallest amount of uncertainty; the diagnosis must be definitive; the condition has to be curable—
- Sometimes there is no easy answer, and it has nothing to do with the complexity of the cause or the limitations of our profession.
- We may never be able to determine a permanent solution to your condition. There simply might not be one.
- But we’re still trying. We’ve made efforts to find solutions with all the technology available to us.
- If there were to be a way to make your blood repair itself, theoretically, you could function without needing to siphon new human blood.
- The greatest discoveries in human history have often come as accidents. It could be that your solution is just under our noses, so to speak.
Semmelweis
- I hope that you are right.
Her room is strange now, absent both visitors and voices, and bathed in sterile, cold light. She returns to the memory of her first arrival, how she felt she had stepped into a maze of mirrors by mistake.
Only now, when she looks into those “mirrors,” there is no reflection there to meet her. Only cascading emptiness, like she isn’t there at all.
In some way, it makes her more self-conscious than ever before, as though she were projected onto every space without a mirror instead. It makes her feel unclean.
The underlying principle behind it is unclear, but it feels as though it was something gnawing at her from the outside, covering her from head-to-toe. A second skin she longs to rub off.
It hasn’t been very long since the first symptoms appeared. That instinctive thirst, followed by a surge of impulses.
They have grown. Now she can scarcely walk past a new face without suppressing the urges inside her.
She felt them even when she awoke this very morning, looking out at Emil. His earnestness only adding to her exhaustion.
She will not be able to keep another drop of that bottled water down. She thirsts for blood, fresh and flowing.
Semmelweis
- Did I escape transformation only to face a lifetime hidden in the shadows? Or will I die of thirst before all else?
Her insistence on abstaining from blood begins to feel all the more nonsensical. Perhaps, she reasons, it is only that she does not want the scrutiny—the suspicion that would come with it.
Her reasons are never a matter of principle. She is a woman of practicality.
If she has any principle at all, it is this: when she says something, she means it—no wavering, no alterations, no compromise.
Semmelweis
- Tsk, it’s always something, isn’t it?
She folds the health report into her pocket, where her communicator has begun to vibrate.
Semmelweis
- This is Semmelweis.
Female Foundation Staff
- Hello, Miss Semmelweis. We understand you’ve received your discharge notice, is that correct?
Semmelweis
- Correct. May I ask when will I be able to officially begin my work?
Female Foundation Staff
- Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Before we get into details, I need to confirm with you about your rest days.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
(Ring Road)
The sun has quickly followed the rain, causing humid vapor to rise up over the puddles on the road.
The paper reads March 31st and reports in bold print that Vienna’s tourism industry had hit its first peak.
Another article boasts of Janette, the renowned dessert, chocolate, and sugar art master, who would soon debut her new creations at the Easter celebration.
The column on page three announces that the investigation into the missing egg artists is “still ongoing.”
Semmelweis
- “Three egg artists vanish—an artistic exodus or a mysterious kidnapper on the loose?”
- Another sensationalist headline …
It is Sunday, but the shops have been open for the Easter holiday. Festive songs fill the bustling Ring Road.
Coming back to Vienna feels in some ways like watching a rerun on television—the same places, same roads, same blinding sunlight, and nearly the same people.
It seems that the city has not lost much in being washed by the “Storm”; for her, the sunlight is the real problem.
It pierces through her cheap sunglasses, intensifying what has been a dull headache.
(Hallway, Foundation)
Semmelweis
- It’s quiet here. Is everyone on holiday?
Female Foundation Staff
- It’s always like this for Easter.
- Thankfully, things are usually quiet this time of year, but that doesn’t mean Vienna’s citizens aren’t exposed to danger, especially when it comes to our field agents and—
Semmelweis
- —Cases involving arcane events.
Female Foundation Staff
- That’s right. It’s big news. You should see the headlines in the newspapers.
- There have been several disappearances over the past month, involving Vienna’s three most famous Easter egg artists: Elena Hall, Martina Keim, and Nora Ostern.
- They vanished from their studios without a trace of forensic evidence left behind—no fingerprints, no footprints, not even a single hair.
- They were all key members of the local artists’ guild. However, testimonies from other guild members revealed their relationships to one another had become somewhat rocky.
- The papers have been speculating that their disappearances might involve some kind of personal conflict.
Semmelweis
- Missing artists, rocky relationships, all vanished without a trace. It makes sense why the newspapers are so eager. But why should it involve us?
Female Foundation Staff
- The investigators found a grayish-black powder at the scene that doesn’t originate from the region. Our analysis confirmed it as a byproduct of burning mycelium.
Semmelweis
- Yes, I read about it in the “Amber Manual.” Commonly used to make paint, but if burned, produces a hallucinogenic dust, to be handled according to arcanum procedures.
- Under normal circumstances, this material wouldn’t circulate in human society, yet here it is in Vienna. It clearly has a link to the disappearances.
- I’m prepared to take on this task. But given that the case involves unknown arcanists and possibly The Beyonds, not to mention hazardous materials, I request the return of my—
Female Foundation Staff
- —I’m sorry, Miss Semmelweis, we won’t be able to provide you with your regular equipment for this investigation.
Semmelweis
- And why is that?
Female Foundation Staff
- Ahem, the quartermaster is on vacation …
Semmelweis
- …
Female Foundation Staff
- If you should run into any arcanists, or precisely, The Beyonds, try to avoid any direct confrontations and contact the Foundation right away.
Semmelweis
- Fine. This won’t be a challenge.
???
- Excuse me, miss, would you like to buy a poem?
- I know it isn’t much, but I need money to find a place to stay for the night.
A disheveled woman is approaching her with hobbled steps, her voice weak and low.
Their eyes met, as if she could see straight through Semmelweis’s shaded lenses.
Semmelweis
- Sorry, I don’t think I can help you.
???
- Please miss, have some sympathy. Have you ever had to sleep on the streets, cold and terrified in some dark corner?
Semmelweis
- I have. Yes. But supposing I did spare you some change, what would you do with it?
???
- I need medicine.
Semmelweis
- What for?
???
- Burns, miss.
The woman lifts a strand of hair, and Semmelweis follows her spindled fingers to the horrific burn scars formed around her eyes.
The sight elicits some unusual sense of sympathy from her. She passes the woman a not-insubstantial bill from her bag.
???
- Thank you. Happy Easter, and enjoy the game.
Semmelweis
- Enjoy the game?
???
- Ah. I suppose you don’t know then. Never mind, miss, it’s only what we say here during the holiday.
The woman leaves, and Semmelweis looks down at the poem she has offered her.
Semmelweis
- “Fearless souls wield the needle sharp.”
- “Dancing with fire, yet untouched by its spark.”
- “With a beam of light, let shadows depart.”
- “Time stretches as we bridge the space apart.”
- What could this mean?
- It’s obviously nonsense. A useless trifle, I suppose she uses that line on everyone.
Semmelweis doesn’t like walking the Ring Road anymore; it is more for vehicles now than pedestrians.
She prefers the Kärntnerstrasse instead, though chiefly because the shade from its buildings covers most of the sidewalk.
On the street, reporters in festive attire are broadcasting live, hyping up tomorrow’s Easter egg parade.
“The Easter egg hunt is in full swing, with each and every egg specially handcrafted by the Artists’ Guild …”
“Citizens who discover the eggs can open them alongside the finder of the Treasure Egg during our city-wide festival …”
A small cluster of people gathers around a shooting gallery as a man concentrates intensely, aiming his dart gun.
The dart flies out and Semmelweis watches as the prize jiggles, then drops.
Male Tourist
- I got it! Did you see that, huh?
Female Tourist
- I did! Great shot, darling!
Booth Owner
- Hey miss, care to play a few rounds?
She shakes her head dismissively, her sense of déjà vu intensifying with each step.
Tucking herself beneath the wide, shaded awning of a restaurant, she removes her sunglasses to watch for a moment as people and traffic drift past her.
Nearby, the joyful laughter of children running and playing fills the air. Quite suddenly, one of the boys falls on the sidewalk, and an Easter egg rolls from his hand toward her.
Kid
- Ow—ouch!
Only a moment passes before the scent of the child’s blood reaches her.
It awakens that familiar craving, welling like a deep desire inside her chest.
It has not been the first time since her transformation, but this time the craving is much stronger and harder to control. She is desperately thirsty for blood.
Semmelweis walks toward the child, reaching out her hand. But the child suddenly puffs his cheeks and spits blood. The blood splatters on her face. All goes dark.
Semmelweis
- What?
She is engulfed in red-black, her heartbeat pounding violently, frantically, up through her neck.
She stares into the child’s wide eyes. His mouth is open, contorting with pain and fear, a hand—her own—is clutching his neck.
There’s blood now. It pours out from the wound along his throat—the wound she made.
He screams, but no sound escapes from his gurgling throat. Yet somehow, she hears it, reverberating in her ears and up from her throat like it were coming from her own body.
Kid
- No! Stop! Help—
Semmelweis
- …
Valentina
- I can sense your excitement, all that blood really gets you going, doesn’t it?
Kid
- Mom! Help me! Help—
Semmelweis
- Shut up!
Bella
- How much longer can you hold out? Your hunger cannot go unsated forever.
Valentina
- And that’s why you’re so magnificent. Because just like me, you can’t resist …
Semmelweis
- Shut up!
She snaps, as if addressing someone else.
There is something wet and sticky pouring over her hands. Blood. His blood.
The boy seems to melt in her hands, transforming into a red ooze that drips, then flows onto the ground.
Semmelweis
- Did … Did I do this?!
Suddenly nauseous, she watches his face form again on the blood’s surface.
The face then morphs into Valentina’s, then Bella’s. The child, Valentina, Bella … all in a relentless cycle. Their faces growing more twisted and deformed, like eerie masks mocking her.
The blood creeps onto her feet, climbing up to her knees. From the depths, a low growl beckons her to join.
They gnash their teeth, gnawing at her skin, clawing at her legs, roaring and howling, until her knees buckled beneath her.
Semmelweis
- No …
Valentina & Bella
- You need blood, just a little taste. Then we won’t bother you anymore, we’ll lie at your feet like faithful hounds.
Kid
- No—NOOOO!
The child’s face appears again, and Semmelweis reaches out impatiently toward it, eager to tear it apart, but she grasps nothing.
At that moment, her vision blurs away entirely. She strains her eyes, but nothing returns to her.
Her world becomes a blur of red panic, her own screams echoing in her ears.
Semmelweis
- No—NOOOO!
A sharp ringing fills her ears, drowning out her own voice. The red before her eyes turns white, and soon all sound and image fades.
Her vision clears, and she sees her hand. It is gripping the child’s shoulder tightly. She swallows hard.
Semmelweis
- Oh my God.
Kid
- Uhm. You okay, miss?
Semmelweis
- Yes, I’m fine. Can you stand up by yourself?
Kid
- I think so.
The child gets up, then runs over to his fallen Easter egg. It is entirely black, a color she has never seen on an Easter egg before.
Semmelweis
- Where did you find this egg?
Kid
- Oh, you’re not from Vienna, are you? This is the best part of the whole festival!
- Right now, there are Easter eggs hidden all over the city! Everyone is out hunting for them!
- This is just one of the eggs I found. My goal is to find the Treasure Egg. They say whoever finds it will receive the “Apostle’s Blessing.”
Semmelweis
- “Apostle’s Blessing”? What’s that?
Kid
- I guess it’s some kind of special surprise prepared by the egg makers!
- My mama says they’re God’s messengers, like angels, and anyone could be one—are you an angel, miss?
Semmelweis
- Sorry, I’m no angel.
- Since you’ve already found such a unique egg, you must know where the Treasure Egg is hidden, don’t you?
Kid
- I can’t tell you that! You’ve got to find it for yourself, miss!
Semmelweis
- So, it’s a secret?
Kid
- The biggest secret of the whole festival! I can only tell you the most important rule: the clues to the Treasure Egg are hidden on each egg.
Semmelweis pats the child on the shoulder as she stands, noticing now that she is directly over a storm drain.
Besides blood, what else can quench her thirst? Water—if only temporarily. And any water will do, rainwater, river water, perhaps even this water.
Kid
- Wait, miss! Take this.
Semmelweis
- Why?
Kid
- Well, I guess you look like you need it! You seem a bit tired, miss. I thought you were going to fall over.
- Anyway, it’s yours now! I’ll find another one soon, so giving you this one is no big deal.
Semmelweis
- Are you sure? I should warn you, you might miss out on the Treasure Egg because of this. And this stranger you’re being so generous to could be a devil-in-disguise.
Kid
- Really? Haha! We’ll see!
- Goodbye! Enjoy the game!
Semmelweis watches the child run back into the crowd, feeling the curious gazes of her many onlookers.
She puts on a polite smile, attempting to disarm their looks of concern, before donning her sunglasses once more and making a quick exit.
Semmelweis
- Dreadful, bloody dreadful. Why am I hiding again?
She stifles a faint whimper from her throat.
How had the monster within turned her into this? How had just touching that child triggered those murderous hallucinations?
Thinking about what she was capable of, that child’s life fading away in her hands, in such vivid and grotesque detail, she can’t help but shiver.
She has realized now, it is not a beast to be tamed; it is caged, and eventually it will tear out from inside of her.
And when it does, it will claim all that’s left of her rational mind.
Damned all because of this blood ban she imposed on herself, limiting both pleasure and pain, holding her back from true freedom.
If she is damned either way, then to hell with this blood ban!
Semmelweis looks up to the sky. Birds are flying across the blue canvas above. Spring is the time for new life and a time to hunt.
Semmelweis
- Time to move.
(Norna Easter’s Studio)
Semmelweis
- The situation in Elena and Martina’s houses each match the reports from the police investigation, and there aren’t any new clues. I’ll have to hope that Nora Ostern’s place will have something.
Semmelweis slips gently under the checkered tape, as she reaches the other side and begins her investigation.
The gray-black walls seem to absorb every hint of color. Graffiti is scrawled across them with a single repeating word “Easter.”
As she sweeps her eyes over the scene, what stands out most is the oppressive atmosphere within the house, its windows tightly sealed and curtains drawn, enveloping it in near-total darkness.
Semmelweis
- A house like this, it seems unusual for a kidnapping. Too dark, too inaccessible. It had to be targeted, rather than random.
She draws back the curtains, letting moonlight spill into the room.
She immediately takes notice of the crack in the window and follows its trail to a circular gap.
Semmelweis
- Was this the method of entry?
- No, it can’t be. There is no way to open the window from here. And the crack is old and worn. This was made before the kidnapping.
- Why was it left without repair?
Nora Ostern’s workbench casts moonlit shadows on the carpet. Papers are scattered haphazardly over her tools. The front panel of the drawer appears to have been burst open, with a letter opener left sticking in the lock.
Semmelweis
- This was forced open. These files likely came from inside.
- An orphanage, Vienna University, and various shops on the Kärntnerstrasse … These are client orders.
She continues flipping through and finds a group photo of the Artists’ Guild under the last file.
In the center of the photo is Nora. Elena and Martina stand on either side, hands resting on her shoulders.
Nora is trying hard to appear happy in the photo, but there is something in her smile that seems forced.
Semmelweis
- This photo was taken a month ago. They must have already been working on their designs by then.
She puts the photo back and continues her inspection. Under the workbench on the carpet, she finds a shattered egg.
Picking up a piece of the shard, she holds it up to the moonlight.
Semmelweis
- Black, much like the one the child gave me before. Then this is Nora Ostern’s design.
- But why would she make black eggs? Do they have some special meaning?
- Huh? Wait, the color here seems off.
Under the moonlight, she can see through the thin shell of the shard, except for some speckled spots that don’t reflect any light.
She touches a spot with her thumb, it is slightly damp with a pungent, tantalizing scent.
Semmelweis
- Blood. Quite fresh too, but to whom does it belong?
The shard cracks suddenly under her finger’s pressure, its surface bursting apart. There is another scent now.
Semmelweis
- Cough! This smell, it’s burning …
She flicks off the fragments, steadying herself against the edge of the table.
Her facial muscles spasm out of control, and from her contorted mouth she begins to laugh, but her eyes betray no sense of joy. But perhaps due to it only being a small shard, the effects wear off quickly.
Semmelweis
- It’s mycelium! So, then it’s laced into the egg’s coating, but what is happening to me?
- Let me see. There are small bloodstains on all the remaining shards, and recent too. They must have smashed the egg and hurt themselves.
- They were sloppy about it too; must have been in a hurry. So, who could it be?
- If it had been the kidnapper, why would they leave any trace of their blood behind?
- And if it had been Nora herself, how did she escape, and why would she return here, and not go to the police?
- And if it was neither, then who else would have come here and left in such a hurry?
- To answer these questions, I must find out whose blood this is.
- Time to try my arcane skill.
She closes her eyes, concentrating, trying to focus on the scent of the blood, just like she had practiced in the hospital ward.
Now she can vividly recreate any scent she has encountered before, her senses sharper than ever. Images flash inside her eyelids.
When she opens her eyes again, the scent materializes as a trail in the air.
Semmelweis
- Perhaps I can still catch up.
Semmelweis watches as the air blurs and the shadows transform into two figures. One of the shadows flickers on the wall and darts outside.
The breeze stirs the curtains, making them flutter, while police sirens outside rise and fall along with the wind.
(Woods Near the Studio)
Following the scent’s trail onto the empty road, Semmelweis soon finds herself at the edge of a dark forest.
She catches a glimpse of a shadow darting by and stops, seeing only a dark path ahead. The trail of that sweet scent leads inside.
There is another sound—swift, light footsteps, lighter than a human’s, closer to an animal’s, the paws of a hound.
Semmelweis
- It’s nearby.
There are no howls or snarls, no obvious sign that the shadow intends her harm. But Semmelweis knows the truth is quite the opposite: whatever else it is—it is hunting her.
The rhythm of the shadow’s movement changes in an instant, then silence.
Suddenly the silence is broken in a burst of sound, as her eardrums register the shockwave of a shot, and a nickel-iron bullet comes flying straight towards her.
Semmelweis
- …?!
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
(Woods Near the Studio)
Semmelweis
- …?!
She swiftly sidesteps, maintaining her balance as the bullet whizzes past her.
No second shot follows. The attacker is merely probing, not aiming to kill.
Semmelweis
- Who are you?!
The figure raises up a menacing dagger. The blade is slim, with a curved edge tapering to a point. A favorite of the Italian mafia.
More disturbing still is the scent, identical to the blood from Nora Ostern’s house.
Focusing on the blade’s trajectory, she bends her knees and leaps back. Feeling the tingle of blood rushing to her toes.
The assailant’s attacks are random and almost playful.
Growing impatient, she knows she must end this fight quickly.
Seeing her chance, she lunges forward and grabs her attacker’s neck, causing him to freeze. She has him now, and bares her fangs for the strike.
Suddenly, there is a sharpness at her throat. A glance confirms it, another blade.
Semmelweis
- …!
In a fluid motion, she strikes at his wrist, forcing the knife from his hand as she pulls back from him.
The knife spins through the air and lands with a clink.
A beam of moonlight cuts through the trees, illuminating the path between them. In the half-light, Semmelweis recognizes his face.
Semmelweis
- You’re … with the Foundation …
Pavia
- Oh, it’s you.
- I’ve heard about you, our “Red-Eyed Lazarus,” who was half-dead one day and up and about the next.
Semmelweis
- How did you find me?
- I was in shadow form. How was I exposed? The scent from the recovery center? Or the shampoo I used yesterday?
Pavia
- Wolves can sniff out trouble from a mile away.
- Of course, not all trouble is bad, if it’s the right kind. Juicy gossip is the perfect appetizer for the diners around the Wiener Staatsoper!
- All the young artists dreaming of making it big, building themselves up and tearing their so-called friends down.
- The over-loud whispers of some washed-up star about who is sleeping with who, declaring the truth of each and every kind of scandal.
- But you? You don’t strike me as someone who dishes out catty remarks. No, you seem more like the type to cause all the wrong kind of trouble, like being picky, skipping bills, and laying ambushes.
Semmelweis
- Ambush? Was it not you that tried to kill me? Is this how you greet your colleagues?
Pavia
- I haven’t tried to kill you just yet, first I need you to tell me where Nora Ostern is.
- Che cazzo! Why does everyone here love to vanish?
Semmelweis
- What is it that you want from her? And under whose authority? No one mentioned any other agents being assigned to this mission.
Pavia
- Ah, so you’re on a mission, huh, well, your business is none of my concern.
Pavia chuckles softly, wiping his blade with his shirt sleeve.
Semmelweis
- Allow me to ask again, why has the Timekeeper sent you to Vienna?
Pavia
- I know nothing of the “why” at all, it isn’t my job to ask. All I know is this Nora Ostern has something she wants, and I thought it best to have some fun in Vienna while I’m free.
Semmelweis
- Could it be that the Timekeeper ordered an egg from Nora Ostern? Are you here to pick it up for her?
- Unbelievable! How could the Timekeeper have allowed this?
Pavia
- Well, my resignation letter is still sitting in her drawer, and it’s been there for a while. So, I figured I might as well stay on the job for now.
- Naturally, that doesn’t mean I want any part in your little mission here.
Semmelweis
- But then you’ve already been to Nora Ostern’s house. Were you the one that picked the lock on her drawer?
Pavia
- Hey, listen! I don’t do that kind of delicate namby-pamby work. It wasn’t me. Capiche?
- But I was there, and I didn’t find what the boss was after. So, I waited around to see if someone else would have an explanation. Then some other woman came in smelling like burnt … burnt something, anyways—
Semmelweis
- A woman was it; did you happen to catch a glimpse of her face?
Pavia
- Nah, she was just like you, hiding herself in the darkest shadows. What did you call that “Shadow Form”? Whatever. Don’t tell me, I don’t care what you call it.
Semmelweis
- So, she’s a vampire too.
Pavia
- Yeah, and a rude one at that. She didn’t even bother with a greeting before charging at me. So, I, well, let’s just say I aimed to slit her throat.
Semmelweis
- You fought?
Pavia
- My first swipe missed—she was fast like you too. But she showed a weakness, and my second strike hit square on her shoulder.
- Of course, then she went and grabbed some useless black egg and smashed it on me. Didn’t hurt none, so I have to wonder what was she even thinking?
Semmelweis
- Ah, it’s coming together clearly now. That explains the bloodstains. You wounded her, and she fled into this forest.
Pavia
- You two have the same scent. So, when you went sneaking back in there like a ghost, I thought she must have come back for round two—though that would’ve been a pathetic fight.
- Come to think of it, she had burns similar to yours as well.
Semmelweis chuckles as Pavia points to her neck. She has given up trying to mask her annoyance.
Semmelweis
- What are the odds she’ll survive your attack?
Pavia
- Survive? Not going to happen! She’s like you, got those same eyes, and I know what that means.
- She won’t last long. Not without fresh blood.
Semmelweis
- Perhaps, but if she is still bleeding, it means she has not run dry yet.
- She will need blood to heal. And since she apparently hasn’t succeeded in finding what she was looking for, she’ll likely show up here again. We can use that to catch her.
Pavia
- We? What’s this “we” business? Leave me out of it.
Semmelweis
- Are we not colleagues?
Pavia
- I wouldn’t have taken you for the “teamwork” kind.
She shrugs as if reaffirming her noncommittal nature.
Semmelweis
- Forget it for now. You mentioned we have the same scent. That means she’s also been exposed to mycelium. If so, she may very well be our kidnapper.
Pavia
- Oh yeah, and why would she be kidnapping those women? Do egg painters got tastier blood or something?
Semmelweis
- You’re right. If all she wanted was their blood, wouldn’t killing them outright be simpler?
Pavia
- Then it’s money. It’s got to be.
Semmelweis
- Money is certainly the most obvious motive, but the authorities haven’t received any ransom demands.
Pavia
- Well, it’s been so long since anyone has heard from them, maybe it was not a kidnapping but a killing, and they’re just lying in a ditch somewhere rotting.
Semmelweis
- No. The eggs still showed up in time for the festival. As curious as that is, for whatever reason they must still be out there.
- It seems this vampire kidnapped the artists to force them to make mycelium eggs, then spread them throughout the city.
- Therefore, they must be held captive in some secret location, and if so, then her activities must keep close to that location. So that she can keep them monitored.
- But if she’s encountered you, she must fear being hunted. She won’t risk returning there tonight.
- In that case, continuing to track her will only play into her hands. The longer we wait, the more danger her hostages are in.
- Damn it. We need to figure out her identity quick, it will allow us to narrow down our investigation.
Pavia
- Hah! All that talk and you wind up back at clueless. Alright, you’ve roped me in, but my instinct still says: money.
- Money is the greatest of all motives, delusion and desire mixed together. People always think just a little more money is all they need to change everything.
- You sound like one of those old drunks outside the theater, convinced they’ve found the winning lottery numbers on an old street sign!
She ignores Pavia’s mocking, falling into deep contemplation.
Semmelweis
- So then, why does she want these eggs? Or rather, why does she need the artists to make them for her? Is she not capable of doing so herself?
Pavia
- Could be any reason, who knows? All I can see is that she’s using others for her own gain.
Semmelweis
- She targeted key members of the Artists’ Guild, and did so by breaking into their homes to kidnap them. Evidently, she had intimate knowledge of the victims’ personal lives.
- There were no signs of struggle at the scene, no forced entry marks on the doors, which suggests they knew each other. Perhaps the victims even let her in themselves.
- We can deduce that she knew the victims, logically she may have worked with them.
Pavia
- Yeah right, I’m sure these humans were just fine with inviting a blood-sucking vampire into their homes. What do you think, she just knocked on the door and asked for a bite?
Semmelweis
- Perhaps not, but it’s possible she concealed her true nature. If she was a fellow artist, she could have used a work-related excuse to get inside.
- And since the eggs were placed around the city, she is using them for something grander than just their most obvious effects.
- She’s even seen to it that the festival proceeds without interruption, so that everyone will open their eggs together.
- If that’s the case, then everyone along the parade route would be affected by the mycelium powder. That’s her plan—she intends to dose the entire population of Vienna.
- Then she must be observing everything. She will need to, to ensure it all goes to plan.
Pavia
- Wacko, taking control of an entire festival? So, what, does she intend to drink the whole of Vienna dry? Or carve it up into her own personal vampire fiefdom?
- I think she’s just trying to goad you. Force you into searching for her everywhere. It’s clever, I admit.
- She’ll wait until the time is pitch perfect. Then she’ll emerge and make her move. For her, evading capture now is simply a game.
- If you want to catch her, you’ll have to play her game.
Semmelweis
- Play her game …
There is something stirring in her mind.
An unmistakable sound pierces the air, breaking her from her thoughts—the wail of police sirens.
Police
- Police! Hands up!
A bright white light pierces through the gaps between the trees. Instinctively, she raises her hands to shield her eyes from their lights.
Semmelweis
- Why are the police here?
Police
- We were called over a break-in nearby, apparently, we’re looking for a man and a woman. That sound like anyone you know?
Semmelweis
- Break-in? You mean at Nora Ostern’s house. Officer, you will find I have an investigation permit from the Foundation. Oh! It’s you!
Pavia
- Hahaha! What, you really thought the regular old police were going to be on our tails that fast. Fat chance any of them are investigating that house tonight. They were just passing by.
Semmelweis
- …
Pavia
- Come on, have a little humor, sunshine.
Semmelweis
- No, no. You bring up an excellent point, let’s go to the station and make a report!
Semmelweis moves to grab Pavia’s wrist, but he slips away like a snake.
Pavia
- Oh, now you’re really surprising me.
- Tell me, did the Foundation really fix you?
Semmelweis
- What?
Pavia
- That wild look in your eyes, is the beast inside finally tamed?
- After I was “freed,” I couldn’t help myself imagining those poor souls clinging and pleading for their lives under my knife.
- Ah that fear, that delicious physical and mental reaction. Such thrilling memories.
- You’re no different, blood-sucker. So, why don’t we handle this in the most pleasurable way possible?
Pavia gestures.
Pavia
- Bam! A bullet right through the skull! Just like that. And you’d be cheering beside me, “Well done! You son-of-a-b***h! On to the next one!”
- We’ve all got to get our kicks somewhere.
Semmelweis
- I’m struggling to see your point.
Pavia
- I mean that you can’t exactly tell the cops I’m just your everyday casual door-crashing “gentleman thief,” now, can you?
- They won’t be inclined to work with you just because of that Foundation badge, more than likely they’ll just brush you off.
- That’s if they even listen, more than likely they’ll just put me in a cage, and thank you for reporting this “suspicious activity.” They won’t give a toss.
- And hell, let’s imagine it does work out for you, eh, what then?
- If the media catches wind, they’ll blow things out of proportion and convince the public there’s some bloodthirsty creature stalking the streets of Vienna. Panic everywhere, mass hysteria, think that will look good on your report?
Semmelweis
- And what will they report about you “Dangerous former mercenary causes havoc in the streets?”
Pavia
- Please, I don’t give a damn about the media. But your bosses do.
Semmelweis
- I can respect that.
- Then for tonight, we lie low. I can’t have our actions at this pivotal time be excessively scrutinized.
- Goodbye.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
(Ring Road)
The crowds fill the streets in festive wear, the city buzzing with excitement.
Voices, footsteps, and broadcasts echo along the Ring Road, a mix of excited chatter, languages blending, and snippets of conversations Semmelweis can’t quite catch.
Semmelweis
- You’re late, Emil.
Emil
- There’s only one thing worse than the “Storm”: holiday traffic! Vienna’s gone crazy with all the roads they’ve closed, I had to detour around the entire city-center just to get moving again!
- Captain, should we try to convince the Vienna government to cancel the parade?
Semmelweis
- I’m afraid that’s not a viable option.
- First of all, canceling would surely upset the citizens, the government would take significant flak if there wasn’t a credible threat, and they won’t do it on the thin evidence we presently have.
- More importantly, the kidnapper is likely to be in the crowd at this very moment. If we were to cancel the parade, it may tip her off. If she panics, the situation could easily spiral into chaos.
Emil
- So, you already know who the kidnapper is?
Semmelweis
- Yes. The kidnapper is Nora Ostern.
Emil
- What? Nora …
- How could she be the kidnapper? Did she kidnap herself?
- Are you basing this entirely on the media’s claim of internal conflict in the guild?
Semmelweis
- No, that’s just part of it. Her main motive was to make herself look like a victim. That way, no one would suspect her, and she can play this game of hide and seek with us.
- And even if we had found her, as long as she plays the victim, she could easily mislead our investigation long enough for her plan to come to fruition.
Emil
- But, how did you come to suspect her?
Semmelweis
- Last night, the police received a report that someone saw a man and a woman breaking into Nora Ostern’s house.
Emil
- Yes, you and Pavia. I don’t understand your point.
Semmelweis
- My point is that it wasn’t only us in the house that night.
Emil
- You mentioned that, yes.
Semmelweis
- But there was a third person at Nora Ostern’s house last night—a woman, or more specifically, a vampire like me.
- It occurred to me that there was only one explanation, one person that could get in and out of that house without raising suspicion.
- It all makes sense, the darkness in her home, the heavy curtains. There’s only one possibility: the third person was Nora Ostern herself.
Emil
- But wouldn’t the neighbor have seen her too?
Semmelweis
- Nora is capable of travelling in shadow form, as I am. She infiltrated the house the same way she must have many times before, through the broken glass.
- Then the only people her neighbor ever saw entering the house were Pavia and myself, we didn’t know about her secret entrance. No one else would, except Nora.
Emil
- But why return last night?
- Why did she risk going back home?
Semmelweis
- That’s a question only she can answer.
- Maybe she needed to grab something important, or something forced her to return.
- People usually consider their home a safe place. She wasn’t expecting a stranger to be waiting for her.
- Being seen when she was supposed to be “missing” could disrupt her plans, so she attacked first.
- She didn’t expect to be overpowered and injured by Pavia. She had to fight back with her egg.
Emil
- She fought with an egg?
Semmelweis
- The coating on the Easter egg contained mycelium. She wanted to use it to attack Pavia. But as it turned out, the mycelium failed to activate before he injured her. She was forced to flee.
- But consider this: why would anyone who did not already know the properties of that egg attempt to fight with it? She must have known it was already laced with mycelium, and only Nora Ostern could have known that.
Emil
- So, she’s the kidnapper.
Semmelweis
- Precisely.
Emil
- So we know who she is, but not where.
Semmelweis
- We can easily deduce that, she’s somewhere at the festival, enjoying the attention her mycelium-laced Easter eggs are getting.
- She wants those eggs to be found and for everyone to know they’re hers. So those eggs must have some unique elements that reflect her personal touch.
- And those black-painted eggs are a part of Nora’s unmistakable style.
Emil
- So, then, is it all just as the media said? A spat between colleagues gone wrong? Why kidnap the others? Or is this all for some maniacal plot?
Semmelweis
- …
- So far, the image we’ve constructed of this Nora Ostern is as simplistic as a cartoon villain. There must be more to this story.
- How she intends to use the mycelium is still unclear.
- We only know that the Easter eggs have been scattered throughout Vienna and that everyone who finds one will gather during today’s parade, marching around the city.
Emil
- My God.
Semmelweis
- We need to split up. Locate as many of these eggs as possible and warn everyone who finds one not to open it.
- I’ll handle Nora Ostern.
Emil
- Yes, Captain!
The market is so densely crowded that it resembles a choppy sea, with people ebbing and flowing around its stalls and performers.
Semmelweis
- Damn it, this place is packed. With all these smells mixing together, I can’t track her blood.
- Are we to stumble around blindly?
Emil
- Captain! I found an Easter egg and a woman lying on the ground!
Semmelweis
- What is her condition?
Emil
- She’s … well … unusually lively.
Semmelweis
- What are you talking about?
Emil
- Wait! Captain, this Easter egg is strange—it’s moving, like it’s going to spew something—
There is a sharp sound and the communicator falls silent, save for a staticky signal.
Semmelweis
- Emil!
- Damnable thing! She’s watching our every move, and she seems to be able to detonate these eggs remotely.
- We need to find her before the parade starts.
Semmelweis turns around, scanning her surroundings. The band begins to march in formation, playing a familiar tune. The lyrics catching her attention.
“Fearless souls wield the needle sharp.”
“Dancing with fire, yet untouched by its spark.”
“With a beam of light, let shadows depart.”
“Time stretches as we bridge the space apart.”
Semmelweis
- This is …
???
- Excuse me, miss, would you like to buy a poem?
Semmelweis
- It’s the same woman who sold me that poem.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Vienna, thirty minutes remain until the Easter egg parade begins. Who will claim the Treasure Egg? Let’s find out …”
Semmelweis
- The Treasure Egg …
???
- Thank you. Happy Easter, and enjoy the game.
Pavia
- If you want to catch her, you’ll have to play her game.
Kid
- I can only tell you the most important rule: the clues to the Treasure Egg are hidden on each egg.
Semmelweis
- I see now!
- Alright, let’s play.
- The clue is on this black egg.
- “Fearless souls wield the needle sharp.”
- “Dancing with fire, yet untouched by its spark.”
- “With a beam of light, let shadows depart.”
- Hmm, might these be clues? Perhaps “shadows depart” may mean something will appear on the egg’s black coating? But we will need a “beam of light.”
Semmelweis looks up. The sun is blazing in the sky.
Semmelweis
- There’s our light.
She steps out from the shadows, holding up the egg to the sun.
Semmelweis
- Ah, I was right. A pattern emerges, but an incomplete one.
- A simple rotation should fix that.
The sunlight has already grown uncomfortable. She feels a growing numbness flood across her limbs, but she holds on, as golden lines begin to emerge from the dark shell.
Semmelweis
- There it is! So this is the clue, and the key to finding it is “light.”
- A simple code, an eternal presence—the sun that has burned since far before the birth of humanity
- Looking at the direction of these lines, it seems to trace a route through Vienna’s city center, but something’s missing.
- “Time stretches …”
- ”… as we bridge the space apart.”
- So we’re looking for a bridge, yes that’s obvious. And it must mean the bridge at the city center.
- Then it is the Reichsbrücke! And where does the Reichsbrücke lead to—
- Stephansplatz!
(Stephansplatz)
Somehow amidst the people in parade costumes gathered at Stephansplatz, it is the Stranger-like Semmelweis with the toy gun that attracts the most attention and unwanted at that.
Semmelweis rushes ahead despite their glances, carrying the toy gun she has grabbed from a nearby stall, causing more than a small commotion.
She hopes the stall owner understood her frantic plea to “borrow” the toy.
Semmelweis
- Pardon me, entschuldigung! Coming through!
She pushes through the crowd, vaulting over obstacles, flashing her Foundation ID to an awestruck guard as he moves to stop her, then finding an opening at last. She strides into the wide square, gravel crunching loudly under her feet.
She feels the strain of the sunlight burning down on her, and knowing she can’t risk another look, she steels herself and charges into St. Stephen’s Cathedral.
Finding a good vantage point, she presses her cheek to the toy gun’s stock, places her left hand under the barrel, and looks through the likely misaligned scope.
Her eyes sweep over the rows of spectators—seniors, couples taking pictures, fathers with children on their shoulders, and finally a masked statue cradling a giant egg in its hand.
Semmelweis
- So, there is our Treasure egg, which means Miss Ostern must be nearby.
Just then, through the scope, she spots a familiar face.
Semmelweis
- It’s that child again.
- So, he’s figured out the clues too. Persistent little devil.
- But should I stop him from opening the egg? If I act too rashly, Nora may detonate the egg regardless. With the size of it, the mycelium will spread everywhere.
- But if I should hold back, I will still need to find Nora before he opens it himself.
Bella
- Take the shot.
Semmelweis
- You again …
Bella
- You’ll never find Nora in time, and that kid is determined to open the egg. You really only have one option.
- You can limit the damage, of course, but blood must be shed, so why not let it be ours to drink?
Semmelweis
- …
Bella
- Aim for the eyes. Even with these darts, at this range, it’ll make him bleed, it will make him stop.
Semmelweis
- Shut up!
Bella
- Shoot him! Do it!
Amidst the pageantry and joy below, Semmelweis stands wrestling silently with herself.
The sunlight momentarily dazzles her, her eyes stinging.
A sudden premonition strikes her: the child will die. He will die if she allows it.
Kid
- My goal is to find the Treasure Egg. They say whoever finds it will receive the “Apostle’s Blessing.”
Semmelweis
- “Apostle’s Blessing”? What’s that?
Kid
- I guess it’s some kind of special surprise prepared by the egg makers!
- My mama says they’re God’s messengers, like angels, and anyone could be one—are you an angel, miss?
“Let’s congratulate the lucky kid who found the Treasure Egg—”
The crowd cheers, the kid runs forward, disappearing from her scope’s view, the statue’s hand pointing at him like a withered branch.
At that moment, she forgets her premonition, replacing it with another feeling—a sense of certainty.
Semmelweis
- Found you.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
(Outside Vienna)
Today has been a long and unlucky day for Nora Ostern.
She is running, following a winding path, weaving through ferns and bushes. The searing pain in her shoulder is slowing her down. She has no choice but to press forward.
She’s reached the quieter outskirts of Vienna now, it feels like stepping from warm sunlight into cold shadows—A relief for a creature like her.
She knows she’d have to take these last few steps alone. No one would stop her, and no one can help her.
Nora
- Damn it!
Bad luck just keeps coming. Her burn injury flared up last night. Then, after returning home to rest, she realized she had locked her burn cream in her drawer and had to break the lock, only for a stranger to burst in and stab her in the shoulder.
And now, only a minute ago, a dart out of nowhere strikes that wound again.
She can barely feel her arm anymore, only the warm blood seeping from the wound, telling her that her barely healed skin has torn open again.
The sunlight flickers in the air like a heartbeat, the sun morphing into a golden heart in her eyes, pulsing and radiating heat.
For centuries, she has tried to capture that sunlight but has never succeeded.
???
- Nora, if you stare into the sun, it will burn your eyes.
- You must avoid the sun. That is our curse.
- Your grandmother tried to escape it, but it followed her across the Danube.
- I swore I would never let you follow the same path. I thought I would succeed, but …
- I’m so sorry, Nora.
The sky darkens, and a chill brushes her face. Nora freezes, a figure stands before her, wreathed in sunlight.
But no reflection is cast on the lake below.
Semmelweis
- There’s nowhere left for you to go.
The figure closes the distance, knocking the mask off her face. A loud cracking noise echoes as Nora is brought down to her knees, her hands clawing at her face.
Nora
- Ah … no—don’t—ahhhh …
Her face is covered in large, scabbed burn wounds, the surrounding skin red and inflamed. She gasps for air, and through the pain returns to a fierce anger.
Semmelweis
- It hurts, doesn’t it? Especially around the tenth to fourteenth day of recovery, I know.
- My doctor told me that even though our bodies recover quickly, we shouldn’t scratch sunburned wounds, or they will struggle to heal. I suggest you avoid that as well.
Nora
- What would you know?!
Semmelweis
- I know it was Elena Hall and Martina Keim who did this to you. That’s why you wanted revenge, am I correct?
Nora
- …
- They discovered my true nature.
- It was a simple slip, falling down the stairs to the Guild Hall. I just didn’t want to get hurt, I transformed, only for a second. But that was all they needed to see.
- If I had been more careful. If I had remembered my mother’s words. I was careless.
She had hoped perhaps they would not hold it against her, but when she was appointed the lead designer for the Easter festival, her former friends turned on her. They attacked her in her studio, pulling open the curtains, and slamming her face against the window.
She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, but they twisted her arm behind her back and forced her eyes open, making her stare up at the sun.
Nora
- No! Stop … please, stop!
That window. Her mother used to play a song on the piano that lay before it, a song about someone who was blinded by fire but still wanted to dance in the sunlight.
Her father would joke, “Dear, you’ve blocked our only view of the Danube.”
And she’d rest her elbows on the dining table, hands clasped like in prayer. She knew her mother would explain the song’s meaning again and again until she understood the connection.
On the night she was burned, she thought of her grandmother’s, mother’s, and father’s funerals, and of her mother’s tender prayer.
???
- Nora, you know, God is our only fortress.
Nora had hated blood; it was someone else who loved it, the demon that lived in her veins.
But at some point, the lines blurred and she and it became the same creature.
Nora
- Maybe it was hereditary, but I’ve always loved playing with colors. Since I was a child, I’ve loved painting on those old walls.
- I grew up with the old streets of Vienna. In the house that belonged to the Artists’ Guild. It was always well-maintained, and our community lived in peace and harmony.
- My mother inherited my grandmother’s skills and became an egg decorator. So did I.
- My mother even changed our last name to Ostern as a homage to the Easter holiday. I took pride in that name.
Semmelweis
- You come from a great lineage of artists.
Nora
- Yes, as vampires, we learn to master the balance between light and shadow.
- Maybe it was the sun, or perhaps it’s the beast within my blood that rules me now.
- One day, you’ll understand that feeling too. That’s why you must carve out your own place in this world.
Semmelweis
- I don’t need to carve out anything.
- It makes no difference, whether you carve out your own place or fall in line. They’ll come after you just the same, the only choice you make is who stands by you.
Nora gazes into the red glow in Semmelweis’ eyes.
Nora
- How long has it been since you last fed?
Semmelweis shrugs.
Nora
- Are you good at this, at never giving away anything?
Semmelweis
- If I decide to quit something. I quit it.
Nora
- So, you make a decision and then stick with it, no matter what happens?
Semmelweis
- That’s right.
Nora
- Then we’re alike. I’ve never harmed a human being, not even those two women, my entire life.
- I’ve dreamed about it, fantasized even, but I’ve never actually gone through with it, not even now.
Semmelweis
- I understand the harm I could cause others, because I’ve felt the same fear.
- There is apparently a psychological link between chasing thrills and death-seeking behavior.
- When that vampire bit me, I felt so much fear it was intoxicating. Then I woke up, and I realized I’d become the very thing I had hunted.
Nora
- And forever craving slaughter and death?
Semmelweis
- But I’m not like you.
- I’m learning to make peace with who I am now.
Nora
- Make peace? Look at all that you’ve lost.
- Do you really owe these humans anything? What do you think they would do if they found out who you were, would it be any different than what they did to me? Or do you feel you owe something to yourself?
- Every day we fight a secret war against ourselves, barely containing the demon, only for humans to barely tolerate us.
- But now, we see each other, and there is only one path left. To destroy one another.
Semmelweis
- Indeed, to be a pureblood killed by a halfling. It must be exciting for you.
Nora
- Then why haven’t you attacked? I’m defenseless now.
Nora closes her eyes, ready, but the expected pain never comes.
Her eyes open again, Semmelweis is leaning against a tree, catching her breath with a cold sweat on her face.
Nora
- You …
Semmelweis
- My mission is to rescue the hostages, not kill you. And I have no desire to learn the taste of vampire blood.
- Besides …
Emil
- Haha! Hahaha! Captain, over, hahaha! We’ve discovered, hahaha, and neutralized, haha, all the eggs! hahaha!
Semmelweis
- Our top investigator has already defused your trap.
- But your concoction only causes uncontrollable laughter and facial spasms, nothing lethal.
Nora
- …
Semmelweis
- Where are the others? Your victims?
Nora
- You’ll find them in the sewers under the city-center. Follow the scent of food; they’re deep inside the main tunnel system.
- For you, it shouldn’t be too difficult.
Semmelweis
- You know, you’re a talented wordsmith aside from an artist. Those puzzles in your poetry—very clever.
Nora
- Such accolades are not truly fitting for what I’ve become.
Semmelweis
- So, you wanted revenge on them? I can sympathize. Really, even if you had planned on devouring them—I personally wouldn’t mind.
- Though reporting such an outcome would certainly have caused a stir. So I’m glad you opted to keep them alive.
- I’m curious, though. If sunlight causes you so much pain, why do you seem to desire it in all of your work?
Nora
- I suppose I hoped that the pain would fade in time. That maybe I’d become accustomed to its touch. I wanted to rage against the curse that befell my family.
- And this blood within us is a curse, but still, there are things more important than life itself, aren’t there?
- To be noticed, to gain recognition for your art, even just causing a momentary smile … it feels like achieving immortality.
Semmelweis
- I don’t see things your way.
Nora
- No?
Semmelweis
- I can only see how pitiful people become with even the slightest amount of success.
- One lucky moment and suddenly they think they’re gods, “apostles,” believing they can control everything and shape their destiny however they want.
- If you’re one of those, I admit, I would look down on you.
Nora
- Tell me, miss. Do you believe in God?
Semmelweis
- No, I don’t.
Nora
- Yet you still made a vow not to drink human blood. Then you think of yourself as someone who holds their own sacred principles.
Semmelweis
- Not really, no.
Nora
- You don’t believe in God, and you don’t even believe in your vow. What do you believe in?
Semmelweis
- I believe in myself.
- I believe that to control your own destiny, you have to stick by your own decisions.
Nora
- What’s your point in telling me any of this?
Semmelweis
- I suppose that’s for you to decide.
Nora brushes her face. Her pain vanishing, replaced by a new sensation of weightlessness, like drifting in the middle of a lake. And an overwhelming urge to sleep.
She closes her eyes, and the rays of the sun softly whisper to her, telling her of a path out from her nightmare.
Maybe when she wakes tomorrow, she will leave her house and walk into the morning sun, and her neighbors would greet her warmly.
They would say “good morning” and mean it, and not see the scars, only her smile reflecting back to them.
But tomorrow has yet to come. For now, she needs to leave, step outside, and welcome the sun’s burning embrace.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
(Ring Road)
The serenity of dusk settles over the entire city, turning the voices from the communicator into distant whispers of fireworks.
Semmelweis
- Please contact the police and have them send someone to rescue the hostages.
Female Foundation Staff
- Miss Semmelweis, you’ve already captured The Beyond, why didn’t you contact the Foundation to detain her? Why did you decide to let her go?
Semmelweis
- I trust that you will take her to a better place.
- But she can’t be detained just yet; she still has some unfinished business to attend to.
Female Foundation Staff
- If she endangers any civilians, you’ll be held responsible. I don’t need to explain the consequences of releasing The Beyond without proper authorization.
Semmelweis
- I understand, and I’ll take full responsibility. But with her strong will, I felt the Foundation wouldn’t have been able to hold her anyway.
Female Foundation Staff
- Strong will?
Semmelweis
- When someone follows their wills, they don’t need to “turn over a new leaf.”
- Sometimes, things aren’t as black and white as you thought.
- True evil is rare, but weakness is common, you learn to look inside yourself and to adapt.
- In my report, I’ll say that I went to Vienna on vacation and merely assisted the local police during the festival, and that the so-called missing persons case was just a small group of artists taking an impromptu trip.
Female Foundation Staff
- An impromptu trip?
Semmelweis
- Yes, the “spur of the moment” kind of thing.
Semmelweis walks along the Ring Road as the festival’s final hour approaches. The crowds are a mix of cheer and exhaustion.
A familiar figure stands by the dessert display, lost in thought, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Semmelweis
- One slice of sachertorte, please.
- Hmm, this texture, it’s quite unique. Sprinkling a bit of pepper on it would add a nice spicy kick.
Pavia
- This time, Janette used bourbon-soaked almonds in her sachertorte. It’s smoother and richer than the usual filling.
- Bourbon whiskey, they make it in the south of the United States, it all comes down to the source of water, this one uses the best distilled water out there.
Semmelweis
- Obsessing over water sources is such a strange thing, it is all water. Properly sanitized, it provides the same hydration. Anything else is just price.
- And price is only a matter of negotiation.
Pavia
- Just say you’re not into desserts, sunshine. Anyway, this particular lusciously mouthwatering cake is highly sought after.
Semmelweis
- Is it? Perhaps I should purchase a slice or two and see if I develop an interest.
Pavia
- Just a slice? Let’s go by the “toughest guy goes first” rule and split it all!
Semmelweis
- Whatever do you mean?
Pavia
- It’s a rule I made up myself, and I’m sticking to it. Kind of like how the toughest guy shows up last.
Semmelweis
- Well, it seems you’ve managed both, as the store is about to close.
- Might I get another serving, please? Oh, and a bit more pepper, if you don’t mind. Thank you.
- Sorry to take any more of your time.
Pavia
- So, what’s up?
Semmelweis
- Can’t a blood-sucking monster just drop by to say hello to a fellow colleague?
- Fine, I only thought you should know that the police have rescued the hostages, that both have confessed to the schemes and violence they perpetrated on Nora. And that she has, by the way, promised to rush the Timekeeper’s order.
- Though it may be delayed a few days, so I’m afraid you might not make the Timekeeper’s deadline.
- When we talked about motives earlier, you said I should follow the “money.” I didn’t quite understand at first, but now I see your point. You were right, although not so much about the kidnapper, so much as yourself.
Pavia
- Nah, it’s the same for everyone. Always is.
Semmelweis
- I believe you mentioned before that you submitted your resignation to the Timekeeper?
- Do you have any new job prospects? Maybe some security firm or debt collection agency? I’m certain that debt collectors are always in need of someone with your “legal background.”
- Of course, those same companies may not appreciate your record of “unexplained absences” and “insubordination.”
- Perhaps I could introduce you to some more tolerant employers, but I’m quite sure you don’t need my help.
Semmelweis hands a slice of the sachertorte to Pavia.
Semmelweis
- I prepared this one just for you. Consider it my treat.
Pavia
- Is that all? Got any other blabber for me?
Semmelweis
- That’s everything. Goodbye.
Pavia takes a bite of the cake. The effect is immediate. His muscles twitch, and his teeth begin to grind as he holds back, until he gradually loses all control.
He glares angrily at Semmelweis. His lips attempting to form what is, in all likelihood, a string of Italian curses, but he has already lost control of his tongue.
Semmelweis turns without another word, striding toward the Danube River. Passing a corner, she takes the health report buried in her pocket and tears it to shreds with a smile.
“Fishbowl Face” had mentioned to Semmelweis that she was working on a research article about pleasure and fear responses.
Apparently, serotonin sources are often unpredictable, and subject to declining returns, thrills lose their luster, highs lose their heights.
Though there is a source that almost never declines substantially, the serotonin spike that comes with a near-death experience. To face death head-on, it seems, never loses its edge.
However, this was far from an ideal solution to long-term satisfaction, thankfully, “Fishbowl Face” found another source that while not quite so powerful, proved equally reliable. It was this that prompted Semmelweis’ third awakening.
She now holds it in her hands.
Semmelweis steps off the train, taking in a deep breath of the warm air.
Reaching deep into her coat pocket, she pulls out a piece of chocolate and pops it into her mouth.
The chocolate sways and melts on her tongue, causing a strange yet delightful tingling sensation in her temples that spreads throughout her body. And despite everything, she smiles.
Emil
- Sorry I’m late again, Captain. The traffic here is just, haha … on the map, it didn’t seem far, but …
Semmelweis
- It’s a miracle you didn’t get into an accident.
Emil
- Haha, maybe so. You seem to be in a good mood, Captain.
Semmelweis
- I had a good sleep. Are the aftereffects of the mycelium still bothering you?
Emil
- Haha! Let’s not talk—ha, about me now! Look at the weather, what a sunny day we’re having. Ha.
Semmelweis
- Is it? Well then, I’ll try a different approach this time.
Emil
- Ha, looks like you are wide awake now. Well then, Captain, “Happy Hunting.”
(THE END)