Act XIV: The Dance of the Seven Veils (Part Two)
two
Back at the mansion, Yubi saw Schumacher by the gatepost. The Jew was hiding in the darkness, the new wrinkles around his eyes and the gray hairs at his temples making him look weathered and unfamiliar. He was neatly covered with bundles, the reins of a female donkey were wrapped around his waist, one hand was holding his younger sister who was blindfolded with a strip of cloth, and the other was pulling the adopted Saracen orphan.
But Yubi felt a strange sense of ease and familiarity with his appearance, just like when they had just left Transylvania.
"Judith is blindfolded," the vampire asked. "Her eyes were ruined by the smoke?"
“She just loses her mind at the sight of candlelight, but she’s alright.” Schumeer bowed his head sincerely and humbly, and bowed deeply to him. “I’ve come to say goodbye, Lord Jubius. We’ve decided to return to Venice.”
“I think Nuk has given you enough money for your journey,” Yubi said, his voice trembling with worry. “...Will you have any means of making a living in the future?”
Schumeer smiled shyly at the question. He lifted the leather flap of his bag—neatly arranged charcoal pencils, palette knives, paint cans, and papyrus came into Yubi's view. Yubi understood and asked no more questions.
“If I have the chance, I will visit you,” he said. “Venice must be very beautiful.”
“No, sir. I hope you will not come to visit me. Even if you do, please do not let me know. I have only one wish to ask of you.” Schumeer replied, “If you still want me to be your friend, not your servant, this is the only way.”
The vampire opened his mouth, as if to explain or defend himself, but ultimately couldn't utter a single word. "...Alright," he only promised, "May you live a peaceful life."
"Thank you, and may you rest in peace." Schumer touched his heart. "Farewell, Yubi."
Yubi made way for the group. He stood in the moonlight, watching the three men and their donkey stagger towards the city gate. Soon, he didn't want to watch anymore, so he led his servants inside and went straight to his bedroom.
"Yasa, I'm back!" he shouted. "It's time for a bath!"
His beloved slave was led before him, like a huge, obedient toy. Yubisen embraced him tightly, pulling his thick arms over his own shoulders; then, the noble master himself removed his robe, rolled up his sleeves, untied the slave's knots, and stripped him of his prison clothes, revealing his battered body; by this time, the bathroom was filled with steam, and his Asahi lay on the stone bed, being ladled with hot water; finally, the vampire took black olive soap and a horsehair scrubber and vigorously rubbed dense foam onto the slave's back.
“I never imagined this work would be so strenuous.” Yubi brushed the damp hair from his face. “I really should raise the wages of the slaves working in the bathroom.”
"Yasha" remained silent and motionless.
“You know what, Schumer went back to Venice,” Yubi continued rambling. “He said goodbye to me tonight and left. Now Diophantus, Eudosia, Margo, Cicero, they’re all gone, all back to their own places. It’s finally quiet, just the two of us.”
He noticed the slave blinked, but didn't react further.
“My sister is going to Nablus too. I saw her real child today.” Yubi walked around to face him, staring into his blue eyes. “Can that ring really kill vampires? It’s terrifying. I wore it for eighteen years without even realizing it…”
The slave's pupils dilated and contracted, the blood in his veins surged faster, and the markings activated. Yubi couldn't tell if the wetness on that face was sweat or tears streaming down. But regardless, the vampire's condescending sympathy surged within him, urging him to rush forward. "My sister said she wanted to kill her child, and it was out of love," Yubi deliberately chose words that would sting him before uttering them. "If this corrupt world cannot accommodate perfect people and gods, then loving someone means killing them to preserve their nobility and purity. Do you think that's right? If it were you, what would you do?"
As he expected, the slave was finally enraged, gritting his teeth as if to say something—Yubi proudly felt like a magical sorcerer, able to awaken a hard ivory statue with a soft kiss, and make tender leaves sprout from the coldest, cruelest earth—but "Yasha" moved his lips, then suddenly howled in anger and despair, rampaging like a speechless beast, smashing everything within reach to the ground. As he took a step forward, intending to grab his master's neck again, something grabbed his neck first.
Yubi ran to the corner of the bathroom and grabbed the iron chain that was wrapped around the wall and tied around the slave's neck.
“I’m sorry, Asa…” The vampire frowned, but then grinned. “You get angry at me for saying that! You see, in all the struggles between reality and ideals, divinity and bestiality, I am your selfish exception! Is this also a kind of love?”
His words were more effective than brute force. The slave, dejected, sat back down on the stone bed. Yubi hung the chain back on the prepared hook, scooped water with a ladle, and poured it over his beloved pet's head. He personally smoothed the golden hair that had sprung up in clumps when wet with his palms, and carefully wiped the foam off his beard.
“I’ve listened to everything you said. Aren’t I already the person you wanted me to be?” Yubi asked. “What else do you want?”
The slave hadn't spoken to him for almost a month, like a magnificent treasure trove with its doors tightly shut, like a warm nest covered in ice and snow. But this time, "Asha" finally moved her lips to speak. The vampire leaned closer, straining his hearing to make sure he'd heard the right request.
"Freedom!" the slave cried. "I want freedom!"
This answer sent a subtle sadness through Yubi's heart like a flowing stream. "Do you really want me to remove your mark and let you go?" the vampire asked gently, his voice softening with tenderness. "Don't you care about your injuries, your age, or me?"
The slave raised his head, water streaks running down his face like wounds.
"I want freedom," he answered with unwavering conviction.
That night, Yubi lit the most expensive ambergris. Since leaving Transylvania, they had never found another such rare substance in the world. "Sleep well, have sweet dreams," the vampire said, holding his arm tightly. "When you wake up, you will be covered in the scent of monster saliva, and you will be as free as they are in the sea, doing whatever you want. That's what my mother told me."
The slave said nothing, lying tensely on the couch. Yubi leaned forward, biting into his vein and sucking his blood without restraint. The vampire didn't need to do anything else; the slave soon nearly fainted, lost consciousness, and drifted into a deep sleep.
Yubi nestled in those strong arms, a profound loneliness enveloping him. Freedom—what a luxurious and intoxicating thing! Its definition is ever-changing, each person clinging to their own interpretation. Is strength freedom? Is power freedom? Is breaking the mark freedom? Is running towards death freedom? He had demanded so much from those around him, yet this final desire—he simply couldn't understand how to give back, how to give back. The vampire placed his hand on the slave's chest, searching for his mother's mark—what did he truly want? What had he concealed with freedom? What had his mother given him, what had she promised him?
Suddenly, the slave's body trembled, as if he were shrinking back from the cold of his hand, on the verge of falling into a dream.
“…Yubi.” He mumbled in his sleep in his native language, making it unclear to Yubi whether he was calling for him or for love. The vampire looked up in bewilderment amidst the fragrant mist.
"I'm so sorry," Yakov cried through gritted teeth in his blissful dream.
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