Ch. I: Departure ― Episode 3: The Inn

―There are moments when the world reveals, without warning, that it has already moved on.―

Victor descended the mountain at reckless speed and arrived in the town below.

At the sight before him, his breath caught―if only for an instant.

―So this is what the world looks like when it no longer requires one’s presence.

Cobblestone streets unfolded before his eyes, lined with restaurants, cafés, shoemakers, and countless other shops pressed together in exuberant disorder.

The scene felt less like a settlement grown over time than a toy box overturned, spilling its colors and forms all at once.

Through it all, people in the fashions of the new age flowed through the streets—

gentlemen wearing bowler hats or felt hats, clad in short jackets and waistcoats;
women in dresses whose high collars gave way to flowing curves, paired with practical hats and gloves―

the crowd appeared not as a remnant of past grandeur, but as a wave carrying the vitality of a new age, clothed in the very will to move lightly forward.

The city was far more animated―and far more chaotic―than the servant he had once hired for reconnaissance had reported.

“What is the meaning of this?” Victor murmured.

“That ordinary citizens should walk these streets in such refined attire!”

A faint dizziness washed over him. He paused, steadying himself, and observed the street for a time. Then he reached a decision.

First, he would find an inn. To wander the town any longer with a large coffin strapped to his back was not only impractical, but unavoidably conspicuous.

Indeed, several passersby glanced at him with momentary suspicion. Some seemed on the verge of speaking, only to think better of it.

'To address a man who appears to be a noble without invitation would be improper,'

they seemed to conclude, lowering their eyes and hurrying on.

－－－

Victor surveyed the street once more and noticed a young boy. The child wore a plain jacket―little better than a shepherd’s―and trousers reinforced with stitched knee patches.

He was selling extra editions of the newspaper to those who passed, no doubt to help sustain a modest household.

“My boy,” Victor said gently,

“forgive me for interrupting your work, but might I ask you something?”

He placed a few coins in the boy’s hand. At once, the boy offered him a paper, then cried out in surprise.

“My lord! I’m grateful, but this is far too much!”

“I have no need of the newspaper,” Victor replied calmly.

“What I seek is information. Is there a respectable inn nearby?”

“There are several,” the boy answered.

“But if someone of your station were to stay anywhere, I would recommend the Paradition Grand Hotel on the main street.”

“I see. And how might I reach it?”

“Continue straight ahead. You’ll find a café with a red awning—turn right there, and you’ll be on the main street. Walk a little farther and you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” Victor said.

He inclined his head slightly and set off toward the hotel.

－－－

He found it without difficulty. The building’s massive stone façade announced its status at a single glance―luxurious, dignified, unmistakably high-class.

As Victor stepped toward the entrance, a porter who noticed him hurried down the stairs.

“My lord,”
the man said, struggling to maintain courtesy,

“forgive my boldness, but may I inquire about that… item you are carrying?”

―An understandable reaction,
Victor thought.

Without betraying any emotion, he replied evenly,

“And by what authority do you presume to question my belongings?”

The porter’s face drained of color.

“N-no, of course not. However, in the case of… SUCH LUGGAGE, for reasons of safety, we are required to―”

His explanation faltered, and his eyes flicked nervously toward the entrance hall.

At once, the front manager appeared, having grasped the situation. After offering a meticulous bow, he spoke with measured care.

“My lord, I am keenly aware of the impropriety of this request. Nevertheless, for security purposes alone, may I ask what your luggage contains?”

Victor answered without changing his expression.

“Clothing. Shaving tools. The necessities of travel. I was unable to find a trunk of suitable size.”

“I understand,” the manager said.

“Then, if I may trouble you once more, could you assure us that it poses no danger to our establishment?”

“Certainly. If you wish, I will even put it in writing.”

“No, your word will suffice. In that case, please allow me to escort you to reception. This way, if you please.”

Victor followed the manager inside, signed his name at the front desk, and was guided to a room on the top floor.

－－－

At the moment he opened the door, the world shifted.

The Eastern European streets vanished, replaced by a vision drawn from the Middle East.

Dark wooden floors stretched beneath his feet, adorned with a Kerman Persian carpet woven in intricate patterns of royal blue and gold. A brass-framed sofa, upholstered in delicately patterned golden fabric, stood beside an elegant coffee table.

Beyond it lay a spacious chamber where a bed awaited—its brass canopy exquisitely carved, lace curtains falling softly around it.

Along the wall facing the street, tall windows stood in a row. Brilliant midday light poured through the open curtains, spilling vividly across the room.

Potted plants and incense burners deepened the exotic atmosphere, filling the air with a rich, oriental fragrance.

Victor set down his belongings and sank into the sofa. On the table before him rested a small case. He opened its lid to reveal a neat row of slender sticks.

“So these are what they call cigars,” he murmured.

Even a vampire who had spent centuries withdrawn from the world had heard of them, if only through the reports of servants.

He selected one, clipped its tip, placed it between his lips, and lit it.

―Cough! Hack! What is this?

The smoke tore at his throat, and for a moment he nearly extinguished the flame. Then he stopped himself.

―So this, then, is what the new age calls 'refinement'.

Gradually, his senses adjusted to the harshness. At last, another thought rose within him.

―This journey may prove far more revealing than I expected.

As he watched the smoke coil and tremble in the air, Victor felt something stir deep in his chest―a sensation he had not known for centuries: not excitement, but the quiet certainty that the world still had truths left to uncover.

―――――――――――――――――――――
© 2026 Kaori Yumesaki. All rights reserved.
The Japanese version is published separately.
―――――――――――――――――――――

Next Episode: Chapter I: Departure ―

→ Episode 4 : Rumors

After leaving the hotel, Victor overhears a curious rumor in the city.

It is a tale bound to blood—uncannily similar to his own, yet differing in one decisive respect.

That difference, however, will unsettle Victor to his very core.