The Last Supper (Part 6) - Act XIII
six
Yakov had an incredibly absurd dream.
Yubi sat on his shoulders, as light as a feather. A faceless enemy stood before them. "Turn this man into a blood slave." Yakov didn't know why these words came from his mouth, but he felt a morally liberating, vengeful pleasure. Yubi raised his hand and strung a string of blood-red chains around the enemy's body. Immediately, an inscription appeared on the man's chest, emitting an evil light, and he followed them obediently and numbly.
They continued forward, and more unknown enemies appeared. "Turn them all into your blood slaves," Yakov said again.
Yubi didn't question anything, simply following his teachings. More zombies followed behind the two, forming a long line. Yakov coldly observed these people, thinking that perhaps only this method could redeem these foolish and shallow people. They needed deception, control, pain, and God! If it wasn't Yubi, it would have been someone else, so why not Yubi? He glanced at the powerful vampire and noticed that Yubi's body seemed to have shrunk, as if drained by his control.
"Can you keep going?" Yakov asked.
Yubi said nothing, only nodded, like a puppet who could no longer speak.
The leader of the blood slaves trembled with fear, terrified of losing his power. They continued running down the treacherous and empty road, daring not to stop. Each enemy they encountered, Yakov, too afraid to even discern their clothing or form, simply ordered Yubi to repeat the act—to turn them all into blood slaves. The earth was cleansed, the mountains and rivers transformed, the world scorned the sun and revered the moon, supporters and opponents alike were powerless to resist. Yet the vampires grew smaller and smaller, their direction increasingly uncertain. Finally, Yubi was reduced to the size of a palm; Yakov cradled him in his hand, refusing to take another step forward.
"I'm tired!" Suddenly, Yubi crawled onto his face like a bat and pried open his chapped lips. "Why don't you do it yourself?"
In a daze, Yakov found the little man crawling into his mouth. Before he could react, he snapped his molars shut—with a crunch, something was chewed up and swallowed. Blood gushed from his eyes; all the chains and markings had been swallowed into his body.
He awoke with a start; the sun hadn't risen yet, but the surroundings were scorching hot, like an oven. Only something cool sat behind his head, causing him to instinctively turn and bury his face in it to cool off. Yakov quickly realized it was Yubi's knee. The blood slave expertly pulled his master's hand, groping between his fingers for the ruby ring—he found nothing. He felt relieved.
"You had another nightmare?" Yubi's voice rang out above him. "You're covered in sweat, and your lip is bleeding from being bitten."
“It was just a dream.” Yakov wiped the sweat from his brow, closing his eyes and refusing to look at him. “Is your ball over?”
“Yes, everyone had a great time.” Yubi glanced at the bronze lamp beside the tatami mat. “That’s the Tibetan’s prayer lamp, isn’t it? They hang it in every household during festivals.”
“I don’t know,” Yakov said. “I just thought it was pretty, so I brought it back for you. Do you like it?”
Yubi remained silent.
The silence made the vampire uneasy. He opened his eyes and looked up—even the vampire wore a veil in the night. A cheap Persian blue porcelain pendant hung outside the veil, swaying in the moonlight and fragrant mist; it was a familiar design. Yubi touched his lips, dipped them in the blood, and tasted it on his tongue behind the veil.
"Is this the smell of deception?" his master asked stubbornly and sadly.
Yakov held his breath, awaiting the punishment of the mark.
In a tribe, a slave who erred was whipped; a sailor in a ship's hold who erred was starved and thirsted; in an army, a soldier who erred was imprisoned and demoted. Yakov stared into Yubi's eyes, examining himself in the reflection—was he still a slave, a sailor, and a soldier? Had he erred? Did he have the right to decide whether he had erred or not?
The pain did not come. The blood slave felt comfortable and at peace. He got up from the bed, pressing his pillow against the pillow.
"Where did you go today?" Yakov asked calmly. "You said you were going to a ball, but you didn't."
“I saw everything!” Yubi was clearly slightly annoyed by his composed reaction. “I saw you, I saw the Imam, and I saw… stoning.”
"Then why do you think I lied to you?" Yakov narrowed his eyes, as if he had expected this. "I said I was going on patrol, and that today is [the □□'s] New Year. Which part of that was a lie?"
The light reflected in Yubi's eyes flickered in the darkness. "...You didn't deceive me, but you also hid things from me." His voice trailed off, "Just like Schumacher."
Do you think I should tell you everything in detail?
"I am the city lord here, I am your master!"
"So what can you do even if you know?"
“…I can do many things, more than you can!” Yubi pulled off her veil, revealing sharp teeth beneath her lips that gleamed coldly. “I can turn the Imam into a blood slave, and all those who threw stones here into blood slaves! I can become their god, eradicating all discord and estrangement, and abolishing all cruel punishments! I can solve everything without sacrificing anything!”
Seeing his ferocious appearance, Yakov pretended to be disgusted and shook off his hand—the Blood Slave happily found that this worked: Yubi's eyes immediately softened with timidity.
"And what about the other people who agree with this?" he asked slowly, as if threatening. "This kind of thing happens everywhere."
"...Anyone who agrees will be turned into a blood slave!"
"And what about the Christians and Jews who ignore and condone this?"
"That depends on the situation..."
"Where are the people who don't believe in God or you at all?"
"I…"
"So, whenever you find something or someone wrong in the world, you force them into the shape you want, right? Over time, everyone in the world becomes your enemy, and everything becomes filthy. Upon closer examination, everyone is both stupid and evil, deserving to become a blood slave. You've made the vile and depraved your followers." Yakov shifted his position, leaning against the cushion beside the couch. "If that's the case, why didn't you do it?"
The vampire was rendered speechless by his words, and lowered his head in shame and indignation, as if repenting for a sin he had never committed. This pitiful sight stirred a vile sense of smug satisfaction and strange pity in Yakov's heart—the vampire slave, intoxicated, once again took his master's hand and placed it on his chest, asking him to gently stroke the mark.
“You remember everything I told you,” Yakov said, lowering his eyelids. “That’s why you didn’t do it.”
Yubi's hand struggled hesitantly against his chest, but ultimately did not retract.
"Don't you trust me?" the vampire asked unwillingly. "Since I remember your words, I am already a reliable person who can share your sorrows. Why do you still not tell me anything?"
“Telling you this will only make you sad.” Yakov kneaded his restless fingers. “You don’t have to pay taxes, you won’t be tortured, and you won’t be locked up in jail. You still have me, and I can handle everything. As long as you don’t cause trouble or make things difficult for me, that’s enough.”
"So you wouldn't care if I spent all my time having fun and left everything to you and Schumacher?"
"right."
"...Do you really think so?"
“I really think so.” Yakov pointed to his own mark and showed it to him. “Do you see any sign of pain in it?”
The vampire climbed over there uncertainly and pressed his cool cheek against it to listen to his heartbeat.
"If that's the case, why didn't you do it before?" Yubi asked, bewildered and confused. "Wouldn't I have been able to live a freer, more carefree, and happier life if I had never known these things?"
"Unless you hate me, are jealous of me... and only wanted to cause me pain by letting me see, only to then immediately blindfold me..."
Like a dilapidated ship, Yakov felt himself being capsized by oil-soaked boulders hurled by a catapult. The surface of the sea was ablaze, while the submerged half lay cold and broken—the pain etched upon him finally felt like a whirlpool, threatening to suck him in bit by bit. He had to swim desperately, desperately escape this prison.
"You're such a stupid, arrogant, and childish brat..." The blood slave gritted his teeth, gripping his master's hand tighter and tighter, until his knuckles cracked. "Are you still the same person you were before? Have your skills and intellect not improved at all? Did I warn you back then so that you would think about these things now?"
Yubi was terrified by his struggle. "I'm sorry, Yakov… I was just talking nonsense…" The vampire stood there, frozen, unable to move. "I don't understand, I think it's absurd, but I really don't understand…"
“Listen. Before, we had nothing, we were weak and powerless. ‘Either go with the flow or be lowly and base.’ I’m telling you this so that one day you can escape the mire, not so that you will pity other stupid and incompetent people!” Yakov pulled him tightly in front of him. “Now you have a city, you have skills, you have an army and wealth, you have power! You can use them, get rid of those thoughts, and make yourself a noble and respectable person—I’m not telling you to give up those hard-earned, truly precious things, to debase yourself, to mingle with insects, and think of them!”
“…But I just feel sorry for them! My eyes see, my ears hear, and I can’t bear to do nothing!” Yubi’s eyes curved into a painful smile. “That’s what you taught me!”
"Then satisfy your compassion! Take Shumel's advice: build mansions, construct monasteries, perform acts of charity, and see if they appreciate your kindness. Your compassion will then be satisfied!" Yakov's voice boomed. "I am your hands, feet, ears, and eyes. Your mother chose me and gave me her orders; you must obey me!"
"...If that's the case, why are you still in pain?" The vampire's sharp fingernails dug into his chest. "Since you obeyed the command, why is the mark still activating?"
Yakov didn't know how to answer. He didn't understand either. The pain was like a million sea lice in the deep sea, dragging him down, gnawing at every inch of his flesh and bone. He felt a profound regret, and that regret made him finally realize that he had unknowingly betrayed something—what exactly had he betrayed? Was it freedom, or imprinting, or some truth he had not yet grasped?
“That’s ridiculous.” Yakov shrugged, swallowing the pain. “I don’t know.”
A whirlpool of emotions swirled in Yubi's eyes, finally settling on a pity that he found utterly repulsive. Yakov felt a vampire pushing against his chest, a cold, velvety head burrowing into his neck, and thin knees digging painfully into his stomach. As two sharp fangs pressed against his skin, the vampire finally broke out in a cold sweat.
"Get off!" he shouted, half in fear and half in resentment. "Don't you dare bite me!"
“Don’t worry!” Yubi’s voice was like a numbing herbal soup, bubbling and boiling in his mind, both drowsy and burning. “I’ll know what’s going on once I’ve tasted it.”
Teeth dug into his veins, like instruments of torture, requiring Yakov to clench his fists and dig his nails deep into his palms to endure. The vampire sucked while licking very slowly, as if trying to fully understand the enigmatic blood of the vampire slave, to discern the meaning of every single drop—he had clearly failed, Yakov thought with a mixture of relief and resentment—because Yubi was holding his hand, her fingers slipping between his fingers.
"Perhaps this is the taste of love," the young and blind vampire murmured superficially and vaguely. "...How wondrous."
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