The Priest of La Manchaland: Gregor's Story

Resorting to whipping yourself again? You certainly are impatient.

Huh. Haven't I asked you to knock first?

Hmph, have you given a thought about the pl -

I also recall asking you to not bring up that subject before me again.

... Still unwilling to participate in the plan?

I refuse... to consult... you on your 'plan'...

Isn't it clear to you that Father no longer cares about us?!

Your plan... it's... it's filial impiety. You... you mustn't...

The child's eyes begin to tremble uncontrollably from the instinctive revulsion and fear at the thought of it.

The unbreakable bond formed from the blood.

Most Bloodfiends cannot defy, let alone break, that bond.

But within the child's heart was an even more severe desire growing...

... and upon noticing it, the child with the scissors did not waste a moment to capitalize on it.

No. We must.

How many more years do you think our Family has?! Five years? Ten?

Even less! Another year like this, and we'll all go insane. You know this better than anyone! Day after day, you sit here and listen to their desperation!

We can... come up with ideas for better rides, attractions. Something to draw more people in here, something to get them to willingly pay more blood packs for...

That is irrelevant!

She raised her voice, frustrated at the child's obstinacy. She slammed her scissors on the marble floor and the confessional echoed with the discomforting noise of metal.

Haah... has La Manchaland ever been short of guests? It's always teeming with guests paying hundreds upon hundreds of blood packs, but it's not enough! It's just not enough for everyone in the Family!

This stagnant, unmoving blood... will never be enough to sate us all! Never! No matter how much we drink!

But it was you who helped Father create hemobars, wasn't it? To address that exact problem?

Hemobars, created by combining and compressing the blood of animals with that of humans.

A necessary evil, that's all it was... To have enough to feed our Family... hemobars were our only option.

Yeah. It was... flavorless, but unlike blood packs that quickly lost their freshness, hemobars were a great invention that could feed the whole Family.

Sure. It alleviated the hunger and the thirst... for a moment.

But did any of us feel even a glimpse of happiness during the entire time we filled ourselves with it?

This is nothing more than a slow, slow death. I believe we have only months before the Family loses control over their craving for the blood of our guests anyway.

... If I could give them my blood instead, I would have...

A meaningless ideation.

The scissors-wielding child stared uninterestedly at the stream of blood pouring from the child's back.

She would not have been able to hold herself back had it been human blood, but...

... The blood of our Kindred is lesser than the blood of animals. It's just... meaningless, diseased blood that does nothing to fill our desires.

…….

Come to your senses, Priest. It was always... an impossible dream.

The only way for us Bloodfiends to be happy is to drink the blood directly from human flesh.

The Father of these children is aware of that truth.

But the Father, who sought the dream of coexistence, could not permit them to directly covet human blood.

There was one incontestable reason he forbade the Family their happiness.

Anyone who's had their blood drained directly by a Bloodfiend... is bound to eventually turn into a Bloodbag, no matter how long it takes.

And that would mean the end of coexistence; and that is why this became an unforgivable sin in the eyes of the Father.

Are you not afraid of Father's fury, Outis?

I am. Deathly so - which is why we are coming up with a strategy. Besides, it's not like we seek his death. Just until our Father comes to his senses...

... How will you even get him to don the helm?

Perhaps her words, clarifying that they weren't seeking the Father's death... came to this child as an exoneration.

And for the first time, the child's interest was piqued.

Now, are we ready to have a conversation?

Do you recall how our Father created Rocinante prior to his departure?

... I do.

He used up a significant amount of his own blood to create Rocinante... and after such a long time on the road, he must still be deeply fatigued. And that will be our opening to place the helm over his head.

As for the second step of our plan... I'll let you in on it as soon as you agree to be a part of it.

Even after the gaudily dressed child left, this child cannot help but shudder from the crushing guilt.

He continued to whip himself, again and again...

For the Family... no, for our Father in blood...

... but this profane thought refused to leave his mind, no matter how much he whipped himself.

Every strike of the whip, every scar that formed on his skin, only reminded him of the possibilities this thought granted.

The child put down the whip and utters an unthinkable sentence.

Even if he would smite us down with his great vengeance... if this'll get him to see this suffering...

The child's heart, which had slowly begun to sway after countless consultations with the Family...

... crumbled completely in the face of the justification that this was, after all, for the Father.

The day of rebellion was here, the child now a part of this plan. Father was to return home after the long days of the adventure.

Countless Hunters surrounded the now-bloodsoaked child.

He'd been in this situation countless times in the past. But... after years spent in La Manchaland, all of this felt so new to him.

Maybe they really could have coexisted even with the Hunters. If a day like today did not come to pass.

You did not pay La Manchaland a visit once, ever since the Bloodfiend War was over. I see that you've managed to suppress your hatred of our kind.

Why was that, I wonder. Were you merely curious? Or was there something else?

... I guess the answer doesn't matter anymore.

There was a doubt in my heart, even as we ran toward this stench of blood, this screaming.

I wondered if La Manchaland had become under siege by a different Family that were envious of your success.

A foolish thought. ... A thought that Father would have been overjoyed to hear.

I admit. We were foolish to hope.

The ranks of Bloodfiend Hunters will only grow like wild grass on the fields. And when this day becomes history, they'll all learn a lesson from our folly.

That you Bloodfiends... are evil by nature. That you can never change what you are.

…….

With that, neither the child nor the Hunters said a word.

They both knew that further communication was meaningless.

There is only a singular thought in the child's head as he watches the Hunters expire.

It's not about his sin. It's not about the upcoming punishment.

It's joy.

It was the child's only thought, his only emotion as he took in the Hunters' blood drenching his body.