In the morning, while combing his hair at the vanity, Victor noticed a small scratch on his cheek. Gently, he raised his hand and ran one of his fingers over the pale mark. 

“So last night really happened. It was all real,” he mumbled to himself, unsure whether to be comforted by the fact. “I didn’t even feel him scratch me.”

A knock pounded on the door, and Victor went to answer it. A maid was waiting for him on the other side, already at a half-bow. Victor returned the gesture and asked, “Is Nicholas  getting antsy?”

“Yes, he was worried when you’d slept in late.” the maid replied. 

“He’s such a worry-wart. I just had a slow start, that’s all.” Victor said. 

He walked down the stairs to the dining room, where Nicholas was waiting, reading from a newspaper. 

“Your breakfast’s gone cold,” Nicholas mumbled, flipping the newspaper noisily. 

“You’ve got magic. I’m sure you can make it warm again.” Victor taunted. Without looking, Nicholas snapped his fingers, and steam began to rise off the dishes. Victor sat down and grabbed a warm bowl of oatmeal with blueberries. 

“Did you go for a midnight stroll last night?” Nicholas abruptly asked. 

Victor had the spoon half-raised to his open mouth but chose to set it back into the bowl. “I was just curious–” he began sheepishly.

“It was the only thing I asked.” Nicholas sighed, more distraught than angry. 

“I apologize,” Victor said. “But I met the most interesting person–”

“That’s precisely why I didn’t want you to leave your room. That person is extremely dangerous. If you had met them at the wrong time…” Nicholas shuddered at the thought. “You are not my prisoner. You may come and go as you please. But if you wish not to be harmed or…worse, I beseech you: do not leave your room again.”

“I won’t,” Victor said. “I promise.”

Nicholas glared at the scratch on Victor’s cheek, his eyes filled with some unknown agony. 

“It’s only a little cut,” Victor reassured, noticing his gaze. 

“And let’s be grateful that’s all it is,” Nicholas said. 

Just then, the clock on the wall chimed loudly.

“Time for work.” Nicholas sighed, folding his newspaper and placing it down on the table. 

“More monsters to fight?” Victor asked, rising out of his seat. 

“No, not today,” Nicholas said. “Most of the time, we help cryptids and creatures, not come to blows with them. There’s a client of mine that requires a certain product that she cannot obtain by herself. I make an effort to deliver it to her every so often.”

“What kind of product?” Victor asked. 

Nicholas held up a wicker basket with a white blanket tucked over the top, obscuring its contents. 

“You’ll soon see.” he teased, leading Victor to the door. 

Together, they walked through the old pine forest over the hillside, where the slopes were steep and treacherous. At the edge of a cliffside, hidden amongst the trees, was a shabby cabin. The cabin was longer than it was tall, with lattice windows and sliding doors. A woman was sitting at the edge of the porch, wearing an open linen shirt and torn red skirt. Victor noticed as he drew closer, that the woman had two faces: one on her head and one on her torso. The one extending up from her neck was mask-like, with two slits for a nose and a long, almost lizard-like mouth. The other, on her belly, had two bulbous yellow eyes and a pair of bright red lips curled up into a smile.

The mouth stretching across her stomach opened, and she began to speak, “How do you always know when I’m low on my supply?” 

“Just a feeling.” Nicholas chuckled. He unwrapped the blanket in the wicker basket and pulled out a fancy green bottle. “Premium sake straight from Kobe,” he said. At the sight of the bottle, the woman’s abnormally large eyes widened even further. 

“Oh, Nick. You sure know how to make a woman happy,” she said, blushing. “You know, we should go drinking together sometime. If you’re ever feeling lonely.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve got a distaste for alcohol,” Nicholas said. “But I’m grateful for the offer.”

“Oh, well.” the woman sighed, exchanging the green bottle for a handful of gold coins. 

She waved as Victor and Nicholas disappeared back down the forest trail. It was midafternoon, and the sun had nestled itself into the tree branches. As they were walking, Nicholas peered over and noticed that Victor was scribbling notes in a leather-bound journal.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

“It’s a field guide. I want to record every creature we encounter so that I won’t forget.” Victor explained. 

“Well, if you’re interested–what you just met was a haradashi, a type of yokai from Japanese folklore,” Nicholas explained. “They appear when someone is drinking alone and is in need of cheering up. But no one drinks much in Still Water, and even if they do, they’re usually in good company. That’s why I make an effort to come up here and bring her something nice to drink every so often.”

As Nicholas spoke, Victor carefully jotted down everything he said. 

“There’s just one last thing I don’t understand,” Victor mumbled, lifting his pen from the paper. 

“Ask away. I will tell you anything you wish to know.” Nicholas said excitedly. 

“Yesterday, you drank from a flask of whiskey, but just now, you said you had a distaste for alcohol,” Victor said. 

Nicholas stiffened, his face suddenly going rigid. He cracked an awkward grin and rubbed the back of his neck, laughing.

“I indulge a little to ease my nerves, but if I drink too much, I get red rather quickly,” Nicholas said. “And if I drank with a haradashi, I doubt I would remember it. Making people have fun is her specialty, after all.”

Victor hummed and nodded, but inside, he was far from convinced. 

. . .

Back at the manor, Victor and Nicholas worked side by side at desks in the study, filing paperwork. Out of all the things Victor had imagined he’d be doing in his new occupation, paperwork hadn’t been one of them. It turned out that despite how nonchalant Nicholas seemed to be, he kept detailed records of each client he helped.

The windows were lit red by the dusk sunlight, filling the room with warmth. Victor watched out of the corner of his eye as Nicholas took a sip from his flask, wiped his lips, and placed it into one of his desk cabinets. Nicholas let out a yawn and stretched his arms, rising out of his rolling chair. 

“I’ll go get us some black tea. Hopefully, a little caffeine will help us power through these last few reports,” he said with a wink. 

Victor nodded thankfully, wearily rolling his sore wrists. 

The second Nicholas had walked out of the door, Victor rose and hurried over to the desk he had been sitting at. He rummaged through the desk drawers until he found the flask. Victor picked up the flask and examined it, running his fingers over its cold, steel body. He brought his nose close to the lid, expecting to smell the fermented scent of alcohol, but instead only received a faint whiff of iron. He brought the flask to his lips, but before he could take a sip, Nicholas walked back into the room. 

“What are you doing?” Nicholas asked, setting the tray of tea he had been carrying aside. His pupils widened with terror when he recognized what was in Victor’s hand. “Don’t–!” he yelled. 

Victor lowered the flask away from his mouth, glaring at Nicholas. “Why? It’s just ‘whiskey.' Isn’t it? Afraid I can’t hold my booze?” he asked. 

“You don’t understand…” Nicholas began sheepishly. 

“You were mad at me this morning for breaking your trust, but here you are doing the same.” Victor spat. 

Suddenly, Nicholas collapsed to his knees, holding his hands over his ears. His heartbeat was deafening, each pulse growing louder than the last. He stared at Victor and the flask in his hand with a look of absolute hunger. 

“Give me the flask…please,” Nicholas begged.

Victor’s eyes flashed back to the steel flask in his hand and then back at Nicholas. 

“What’s in it that’s so important?” he asked. 

“Just…hand it over!” Nicholas roared, springing forward. He pinned Victor onto the desk, accidentally knocking the flask from his hand. As the flask bounced across the wooden floor, a thick red liquid spilled out of it. 

“B-blood?” Victor stuttered, staring down at the red splatter on the floor.

Nicholas’s pupils had turned the same crimson color as the sun setting in the windows around the room. A pair of curved, pointed fangs had replaced his perfectly straight teeth, and his ears had grown long and pointed. Rather than shock or horror, Victor simply looked on with curiosity. 

“I knew it was you,” he said. Nicholas’s eyebrows curved, the brows softening. “Last night, when I snuck out of my chamber, it was you I met in the hallway, wasn’t it?”

“I-” Nicholas tried to speak but choked. 

Whatever invisible force he was fighting won, and a glaze overtook his eyes. Without warning, Nicholas sprung for Victor’s throat, his fangs grazing his pale skin. The sudden jostle caused one of Victor’s silver earrings to swing forward, grazing Nicholas across the cheek. The skin on Nicholas’s face smoked and burned, like a match catching flame. Nicholas released his grip and reeled away, groaning.  He stumbled into the corner, covering his face with his clawed hands, whimpering pitifully. 

Victor was still leaning back onto the desk, his eyes wide with shock. He reached up and touched his throat, grateful that no blood came away onto his fingers. His gaze moved back to Nicholas, who was still huddled in the corner. Hesitantly, Victor walked over and knelt beside him. 

“You’re one of them…” Victor muttered. “You’re a–”

“–I wasn’t always.” Nicholas interrupted. 

The painful quiver in his voice made Victor shiver with sympathy. Never in his life had he ever seen such a sad creature. He’d read plenty of novels about vampires, fiction that retold their painful hunger, but any description of their bloodlust suddenly seemed minuscule, almost insulting, compared to the agony he was witnessing.  

Nicholas felt something touch his shoulder. He dropped his hands and turned to find Victor sitting beside him, holding out the flask. 

“...Why?” was all Nicholas managed to ask. 

“You forgave me for breaking your trust; I might as well forgive you for breaking mine,” Victor said. “But no more lies, alright? I want the truth: all of it.”

Nicholas nodded, taking the flask and drinking what little remained until it was empty.