Ordinary days of a villain(3)

Morning…

Warm rays of sunshine broke through to the surface, warming the earth. The sky turned pink, like a ripe peach.

As if nothing had happened, Rahel yawned sleepily while making her bed. It seemed she wasn't worried about anything at all. Only her overly calm face hinted that she had a hangover after last night's bar gathering. As a humble observer, I can say that luckily, our young lady hadn't drunk too much. Usually, she didn't stop at just a glass of wine and could easily down half a winery.

Since Rahel is a vampire— A fragile-looking girl, though you couldn't say the same about her body. She used all the perks of immortality and could pour liters of alcohol into herself, ending up with just a mild hangover.

Rahel continued her routine, carefree, humming a little song.

After all, it would be rather strange for a vampire to complain about a lack of sleep, wouldn't it?

And so, the day of our sweet nun began quite casually.

She then changed into her everyday white attire—a robe—neatly folding the clothes she had slept in.

Rahel stepped out of her little church—a temporary refuge—and looked up at the sky.

The sun was slowly rising, and the morning breeze blew into her face. It was quiet outside, with only birds occasionally singing short tunes.

(Why not take a walk..?)—she thought and slowly began to walk.

Many were already awake and greeted her. After walking a bit, she noticed the old man from yesterday.

"Grandpa Hinis!"—she called and ran up to him.

Turning around questioningly, he saw her friendly smile.

"Oh, this must be hard for you!"

"I'll help you!"—she said and grabbed the heavy sack, slightly staggering under its weight. The weight was manageable, but she enjoyed pretending to be weak and cute.

"Girl, don't trouble yourself! I can manage!"—worried, Hinis waved his hands.

"It's fine! Where should I take this?"

"To my house, it's just around the corner…"—the old man replied hesitantly, still worried.

"Alright!"—the energetic girl quickly carried the burden to the house.

"Thank you. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm getting old…"

Rahel easily struck up a conversation with the kind old man. They chatted effortlessly until an elderly woman peeked out of the house, interrupting the exchange.

"Hinis! Breakfast is ready! Where have you been?"—she grumbled from the doorway.

Hearing her creaky but soft voice, they froze and turned toward the shabby house.

"Oh, that's my wife—Hilda," the man introduced her.

"Nice to meet you," Rahel greeted her with a light curtsy.

"Likewise, dear," Hilda replied.

"You have a lovely name. And I suppose Mister Hinis is very lucky to have such a beautiful wife," the vampire complimented her, while her face continued to radiate fake kindness.

Of course, Rahel didn't like her. In fact, she felt disgust. Her name seemed tasteless.

Well, over her long life, she had gathered enough reasons to hate all humans equally, regardless of age.

(That was the name of a stray dog in one city. How sad that she died so quickly from illness. Hilda was big and fluffy… such a pity. This woman will meet the same fate. Maybe in her old age, she'll have the honor of becoming my snack… her blood smells so wonderful… Isn't that fate's challenge?)

"It's nothing. I could never compare to such a young lady. You're the wandering nun, right?"—Hilda broke her train of thought.

"Oh, you've already heard about me…"—the fake nun lowered her gaze, staring at the ground.

"Of course. We haven't had guests in our village for ages. We're glad a young girl like you visited this place."

"It's rare to meet such kind girls," the old man added, his smile deepening the wrinkles around his eyes.

"Oh, right!"—suddenly remembering something, the old woman gently tugged Rahel's sleeve.

"How about joining us for dinner tonight? We live modestly… but today we're having stuffed roasted duck."

"Really? C-can I?"—Rahel asked uncertainly.

"Of course! Come by at six tonight. Rest from your long journey. You can begin your service tomorrow," Hilda suggested.

After chatting a bit more, Rahel waved goodbye to the elderly couple and returned to the church.

You might wonder—did she enjoy this little performance? Absolutely. As I mentioned, seeing the joyful faces of her soon-to-be victims was her greatest pleasure.

Whether people smiled at Rahel or not, they were all the same in death. They begged not to be killed and so on. And no matter how anyone denies it, at that moment, one can truly see what a person is like. Whether they were genuinely kind or not.

But the end was always the same. To her, they were nothing more than food and entertainment.

"Can they even be good for anything else?"—such were her thoughts.

You may think Yunis—the god of this world—hated her for such cruel actions. But let me tell you a secret: he watched her with interest from above, as if her life was a spectacle made just for him.

Time flew by quickly, and Rahel stayed in her small humble abode.

You might wonder what she did in this boring village?

She made tea. The most ordinary (well, almost) tea, which warms the soul, gently flows down the throat, and soothes from within. It was always different—she loved mixing flavors and experimenting.

(What kind should I make this time?)—she pondered, fluttering around the wooden table where different herbs were laid out.

"A gentle scent of cardamom. Hmm… this should turn out wonderfully!"—murmuring aloud, she picked up a jar of spices and, opening the lid, poured a few into her palm, inhaling their aroma.

"Lovely smell"—she said with a sly smile.

(Hints of citrus and notes of eucalyptus. A beautiful combination. And the main ingredient…)—her mood was bright, for she was making tea. Tea that granted wishes. Well, that was just a formality—Rahel simply loved making tea.

It was clear that the beautiful girl had many hobbies. Tea was just one of them.

Rahel stepped aside and started looking for something in her bag.

"And the final touch…!"—she whispered, still spinning around the table.

She pulled out a large pouch of unknown powder. Poison.

"This will be enough to start with, right?"—thinking aloud, the blonde began humming a tune while stirring the finished tea.

Once done making the delicious drink—which most people loved—Rahel cheerfully wiped the sweat from her forehead and exhaled.

"Doneee!"—she stretched the word and poured herself a cup.

The tea looked quite ordinary—if not enchantingly tasty. The scent of black tea with cardamom made it seem like there was nothing extra inside.

Looking into the cup, where her blurry reflection shimmered, she took a sip.

The pleasant taste enveloped her tongue, and Rahel smiled contentedly.

"Pure taste, the smell of freshly brewed leaves and cardamom. Absolutely nothing extra…"—she said mockingly and, finishing the hot drink, left the room.

Evening crept in unnoticed. Rahel was reading a book by the window, carefully flipping pages while sitting in a dusty old armchair. The sun lit the old but cozy room, and its warm rays streamed in.

Time passed again. Then, one of the sunbeams hit her eyes. Squinting from the sudden light, she covered them with her hand and slowly opened them, staring absently out the window.

"Bright…"—she muttered quietly.

(Oh, right!) — remembering something, the vampire pulled out a pocket watch. The hand was exactly on the six. That meant it was already time for the scheduled dinner.

(I completely lost track of time. What a shame.)

Rachelle set the book aside, took off her dark, warm cloak, and got ready to leave.

Walking briskly, the girl hoped the sweet elderly couple wouldn't have to wait for her.

A few minutes later, she bumped into one of the villagers, hitting him hard enough that he staggered back a few steps.

"S-sorry..." — the blonde stammered nervously, clearly worried.

A tall man in his forties with a displeased expression looked at her.

"No big deal. You're that nun, right?" — he asked with a careless chuckle in his voice.

(A nun?) — the vampire repeated coldly to herself.

Showing no signs of anger or irritation, Rachelle simply nodded briefly, smiling and narrowing her eyes.

"I must be going... Sorry again!" — she began quietly and, waving quickly, disappeared from sight without a care.

Luckily, Rachelle soon reached the elderly couple's house, which stood at the edge of the village.

An old and worn-down, yet cozy house, filled with the aroma of roasted bird.

At the gate stood Hinis, anxiously rubbing his hands while scanning the horizon.

"Sorry I'm late!" — she called out loudly and gave a polite curtsy.

"Ho-ho, it's fine, it's fine! Come inside!" — he replied cheerfully, waving her into the house.

Inside, the cottage looked quite ordinary: creaky clean floors, candles on the windowsills, small windows, shelves filled with old trinkets.

The centerpiece of the living room was the table.

A dinner table overflowing with delicious homemade food prepared by Aunt Hilda — simple yet appetizing dishes clearly made with love.

The girl opened her mouth in delight.

"It looks wonderful!" — she remarked.

"Really?" — the elderly woman appeared from the next room, smiling proudly at the modest compliment.

"Time to eat!" — Hinis cut in matter-of-factly, folding his arms. He knew well enough that if his wife started talking, she'd go on long enough for the food to get cold.

The nun and the old woman giggled quietly and sat at the table. Hinis solemnly brought out a roasted duck from the oven:

"Enjoy your meal!"

They quickly found common ground and began eating, chatting casually. It felt as if Rachelle were their granddaughter, whom they hadn't seen in a long time.

She could always connect easily with people.

Dinner flew by, and Rachelle said goodbye, thanking them for the lovely evening.

She walked at a calm, steady pace. Once she was far enough from the house, she stopped. Lifting her head, she looked up at the moon — it was full and glowed with a bright bluish light.

The blonde smirked and pulled out her pocket watch.

The hour hand pointed to eight in the evening, though it was already dark outside.

Smiling slightly, she tucked the watch into her pocket. Tonight, instead of her usual white robe, she wore a beige dress with coffee and black accents.

Without further thought, she headed home. That was how another day of her short vacation ended.

The next day.

Rachelle busied herself around the table, preparing another pot of tea, humming a song:

"They forgot about God out of eternal boredom, lost in darkness without knowing it..." — she sang with her melodic voice, finishing the tea.

Despite only being in the village for a few days, people had already taken notice of her and even visited the abandoned church where she had taken residence.

City.

A cloaked stranger, his face hidden, entered a tavern.

He placed a small pouch of coins on the bar and called the bartender over.

"How can I help you?"

"Have you seen this woman?" — he asked coldly, handing over a flyer with Rachelle's face on it. The drawing was quite realistic, finely detailing her appearance. But despite the fact that he was looking for such a beautiful woman, his cold tone held not a single trace of affection.