Act Three: The Laws of Engaging with the World (Thirteen)
Thirteen
Who is Christina?
Yakov wanted to ask Yubi. The vampire beside him stood there, stunned, reaching for the door latch. Yakov grabbed him. "You know her?"
“She used to take care of me. She changed my clothes and ground spices. Sometimes she would sleep with me when my mother wasn’t around,” Yubi said. “She was my mother’s blood slave…at least she used to be. She left my house two years ago.”
A sense of absurdity washed over Yakov. He saw Yubi's hand reaching for the lock again and quickly grabbed it. "You didn't recognize her before, but you do now?" Yakov asked suspiciously, gripping Yubi's wrist, "Just a name?"
“I didn’t recognize her because she looked much older than I remembered…” Yubi’s voice rose a little, “but as soon as I heard her name, I remembered her face!”
“Could the person at the door be her mother or sister?” Schumeer quietly crept closer. “What if someone who knows her name is impersonating her?”
“I can’t be mistaken,” Yubi replied firmly. “She is Christina!”
But Yakov still wouldn't let go of his hand. Yakov thought, he had no idea what the blood slaves outside of him were like. Perhaps vampires granted them magical powers, perhaps they had a special deal with vampires, perhaps they were given different commands… He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know. If he could call the woman outside the door, Yakov would have countless questions, enough to ask for a whole day and night. He wanted to know what the marking was, what vampires were, how to break free from this terrible bondage… but he still wouldn't let go of Yubi's hand.
Do you know what orders your mother gave her?
“Their orders are similar to yours.” The firelight flickered in Yubi’s eyes. “Mother sent them to take care of me.”
"And what happens after you leave your home?"
“I don’t know.” Yubi lowered her head, the fire in her eyes fading. “I told you, blood slaves aren’t something just anyone can do. Mother wouldn’t have killed them so casually.”
Yakov was overwhelmed with emotion. He knew the fate of slaves abandoned by their masters. It was a long, cruel, and morally reprehensible exile—he knew it all too well. If he hadn't found Yubi in the castle, if he had been driven mad by the mark, or, more easily imagined, if he were now forced to leave Yubi's life… how much suffering would he have been forced to endure? Camilla might as well have killed them. But no master would easily relinquish their possessions. He suddenly felt a pang of pity.
“I’ll open the door,” he said, pulling Yubi behind him.
Christina had cloudy eyes. They suddenly lit up as if from ashes. Yakov slowly opened the door and saw her carrying a soft, embroidered cloak. “Christina!” Yubi pushed his way to the front, took the old woman’s hand, and led her into the room. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you…why didn’t you tell me just now?”
Christina's fingers were covered in scars and fine lines. She stroked Yubi's hair with those hands. "You're still so beautiful," she said, her voice trembling. "You've grown taller..."
“I’m still not tall enough. I can still grow taller,” Yubi said, head down. “Where have you been these past two years? You’ve aged so much.”
It was an attack that was both unaware and sharp, clear yet piercing. Yakov's eyes instantly welled with tears as he saw the blood slave; two streams of tears flowed down his cheeks, wetting his wrinkles. Even someone as hard-hearted as him couldn't bear to watch any longer. He thought, Yubi is truly lucky. Camilla can force the entire world around him to revolve around him, and he takes every heavy emotion for granted. Then he thought, he must not be trapped in such a constraint, he must not suffer such torment.
Christina took Yubi's hand and touched the ruby ring. "I...I've always thought I'd see you again someday," she said sorrowfully, as if all the bitterness of the past two years had been condensed into those few words. "I made you a short cloak, embroidering it every day, knowing you're always cold in winter...I finished it these past two days, and then you came..."
Yubi felt uneasy and embarrassed to pull his hand away. He looked up at Yakov anxiously for help, but Yakov, unwilling to let him shirk responsibility, simply stood there watching. "Poor woman," Shumel muttered, leaning close to Yakov's helmet. "She's probably not quite right in the head anymore."
“I know,” Yakov replied softly. “I’m keeping an eye on it.”
Christina unfolded the short cloak she had brought, lifted it up, and draped it over Yubi's shoulders. "It's a little small..." she smiled shyly, as if she had returned to her youth, "but it's still wearable."
She knelt on the ground, her posture graceful, like a well-trained servant in the castle. Yubi's face was veiled by a furry hood, like a cub in its mother's arms. "It's beaver fur," he said casually. "It wasn't cheap. Did you buy it?"
“You’ve changed. You never used to ask about the price of these things,” Christina asked worriedly. “Have you suffered?”
Yubi once again wore that embarrassed expression, glancing at Yakov. Yakov finally cleared his throat. "You used to be Camilla's blood slave, didn't you?" His voice was muffled behind his helmet. "How did you become a blood slave? Why in Brasov? How do you remove the mark?"
To his surprise, Christina didn't answer his question at all. She just clumsily buttoned her clothes with her thick, calloused fingers. "I can do it myself..." Yubi said. But the blood slave in front of him didn't give him a chance. After a long wait, all the buttons were finally fastened. Christina hugged Yubi and sobbed.
“Answer my question,” Yakov’s anger flared, “or I’ll kick you out.”
Dark clouds gathered outside, and a light snow began to fall, causing the fire in the stove to flicker restlessly. Yakov's vision was obscured by his helmet, leaving only a narrow slit. He felt a hidden light flash by, like a falling meteor, causing his eyes to blink blankly. In his ear, Schumeer screamed, his voice as piercing as a wild fox in the forest. In an instant, his heart pounded, his veins throbbed like worms, and his blood surged like a tsunami. Waves crashed against the shore, sending chills down his spine, sharpening his senses, and making time seem to stand still.
He saw Yubi being held by the thin, sinister-looking blood slave, facing him, spitting out a mouthful of blood with a blank stare. A gleaming little knife rose from behind him, like a red crescent moon.
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