Ordinary days of villain(2)
"Damn witch."
Those were the stranger's final words, barely whispered — just a movement of his pale lips. When he breathed his last, his mouth sealed into a thin, lifeless line.
"May Eunice accept this humble offering... and may the sinner repent for his sins."
Rachel folded her hands as if in prayer. It looked like mockery.
Maybe it was a joke. But believe me, Eunice — the highest deity — never approved of such things. A pacifist, or at least someone who pretended to be one. But that's a story for another time...
The tale I'm about to tell has only just begun, dear readers~
With a casual motion, Rachel tossed aside the corpse's limp arm and adjusted the hem of her dress.
What had once been a strong man was now unrecognizable.
Just a pale mummy — a juice box for Rachel.
The others had fared only slightly better. Except for the lecherous drunk, who'd also made a fine snack.
Four bodies — two men and two women — lay lifeless around her. The blonde had snapped their necks with elegant ease, killing them instantly and without pain.
"Disgusting... These sheep are good for nothing," Rachel muttered in disdain, peeling off her bloodstained white gloves and carelessly tossing them aside.
"Even trash like this isn't worth eating..." she scoffed, twirling a golden strand of hair around her finger.
"Still, for a romantic stroll in such a lovely city — not bad at all. After all, even vampires need to blow off steam, don't they?"
Turning on her heel, she pulled her hood up. Her heels clicked softly against the stone as she walked away, leaving behind the "treats" and smears of dried blood.
---
Main street of the night market.
Her delicate silhouette blended into the crowd.
She moved through the noisy throng with a light, hurried step, drawing no attention.
The glow of lanterns, the scent of fried street food, the music in the air — it all created a warm, lively atmosphere.
Rachel enjoyed wandering during her "off" hours — exploring new cities, reflecting on life, eating junk food, feeding stray cats... and of course, killing people.
And who better than me, your ever-loyal narrator, to confirm just how absurd her hobbies were?
People didn't call her a vampire — they called her a witch with an angel's face.
(Mmm... that looks tasty.)
Rachel's eyes lit up at the sight of skewers sizzling at a nearby stand.
"Two, please," she said, eager to cleanse the nasty aftertaste of blood and cheap alcohol lingering on her fangs.
With satisfaction in her step, the vampire strolled down the street.
"Oof—"
Looking up, Rachel realized she'd bumped into someone. Her mouth was stuffed with grilled meat, making her resemble a hamster more than a terrifying killer.
The stranger, his face hidden beneath a hood, merely shook his head.
She couldn't see his eyes, but it felt as if he were staring straight through her.
Tall and imposing, he loomed over her fragile frame. But what Rachel remembered most — was the silver color of his hair.
Neither of them gave the moment much thought...
But I, your sweet little narrator, will let you in on a secret: this was far from their last encounter. He-he~
---
Some time later.
Rachel opened a creaky door, pulled back her hood, and sighed wearily.
Her face was painted with boredom. Her large, innocent eyes swept over the bar.
What's a night stroll without a drink? Ha! The answer: meaningless.
Who better than a vampire to appreciate the taste of wine — and tell it apart from cheap swill?
Dreams rarely came to her. But when they did, they were unsettling and ruined her mood. So the more she drank, the better she slept.
"Red wine, please," she said quietly, catching the bartender's attention.
He raised an eyebrow in surprise at such a young, beautiful customer, but said nothing. He simply nodded and began preparing the drink.
(Everyone's got their demons...) he thought, shrugging as he poured the alcohol into a glass.
Taking the wine, Rachel nodded in thanks and tossed a few coins onto the counter.
On sleepless nights, she often found herself in bars like these — cozy, quiet places. Of course, only after she'd worked off some steam... and devoured someone.
Taking a sip, she gently swirled the glass in her hand, lost in thought — words from the past echoing in her mind...
"Don't you see? Human life is sacred!
That's why the god Eunice turned his back on you, filthy witch. You'll never earn his mercy again!"
"Hah..." Rachel's face darkened at the memory. She drained her glass in one go.
(Monster? Witch? Pfft... The world gets simpler when you stop caring about your conscience.)
She sighed and glanced at the clock.
4 a.m. — read the ornate hands of the antique clock above the bar.
(That'll do for tonight. My sweet little lost lambs, still unaware of the path to God, will be waiting for me at dawn...) she thought mockingly.
A faint smile crossed her face — but disappeared just as quickly.
After all, playing the devoted follower of Eunice brought her a special kind of twisted pleasure.