Summer break.
I remembered mine—endless days in front of a PC, cycling through whatever GTA, NFS, or FIFA was out at the time. They all blurred together into this dull fog of school life… right up until the last couple of years of my adolescence, when everything finally opened up after I became a NEET.
Now?
I woke up more tired than when I went to sleep.
Like my teenage body was trying to catch up to my mental age or something.
…Yeah. Not fun.
I dragged myself downstairs.
Mom and Koneko were already in the kitchen, halfway through breakfast. Three bowls of miso soup sat on the table, a pot of rice in the middle.
"Good morning, Takkun~," Mom greeted, way too energetic for this hour.
"Good morning, Senpai…" Koneko added quietly.
I dropped into my seat and started eating. The TV was running in the background—
And then I heard it.
"A local Hungarian militia, the Székely Liberation Front, has marched through the streets of the Romanian city of Miercurea Ciuc.
Several political figures from the Hungarian Democratic Alliance of Romania—UDMR—have fled to the city, where a Székely National Republic has reportedly been proclaimed."
My stomach twisted.
The miso turned sour on my tongue.
What the fu—
"The SFF is threatening a full-scale rebellion unless Bucharest recognizes Székely Land's autonomy."
…Right.
For some reason, I'd expected an Oblivion attack on Transylvania.
This?
This was worse.
You're telling me LaVey just turned thousands of Hungarians in the Székely counties into devils—and built a militia?
That's some Khamenei-level power projection.
Fuck.
"This is horrible…," Mom whispered, reaching for the remote.
"Wait," I said, sharper than I meant to. "Let it finish."
Koneko glanced at me, concern flickering in her eyes.
"The Romanian Ministry of Interior has responded with a full-scale gendarmerie mobilization. 'Romania's territorial integrity is not up for negotiation,' a spokesperson stated. 'We fought for this land for hundreds of years.'"
…Yeah.
Of course they did.
"There is growing speculation that the unrest is linked to the Hungarian Unity Party. Its leader, Gábor LaVey, has refused to comment."
Silence settled over the room.
Well.
I was planning to enjoy summer a little longer.
Guess that's over.
I stepped outside, Koneko right behind me.
She caught my sleeve.
"…Senpai. Don't go alone… it's dangerous," she said.
I met her gaze, steady.
"We don't have time. Tell Azazel to bring Suzuka and Haruka to Csikszereda by teleport. I need to get there first."
I paused.
"If the SFF are anything like what we fought in Nagano, the Romanian gendarmerie doesn't stand a chance. And the vampires won't interfere—they don't care about human Romania. Someone has to."
Koneko flinched—just a little—before the logic settled in. Her expression softened.
"…I will. Take care, Senpai…"
She stepped in and hugged me. Brief, but tight. I returned it without hesitation.
"Don't worry," I said quietly. "I've survived worse."
I pulled back and summoned Nelu. The icy Archaeopteryx swept in, lifting me effortlessly with a wing until I climbed onto his back.
I handed him a speed potion—homemade, crude, but effective.
The rush hit instantly.
Wind tore past us as Nelu shot forward, easily pushing past three hundred kilometers an hour.
No turns, no trace of hesitation.
Just a straight line.
We reached Miercurea Ciuc in two hours.
Csikszereda didn't look like the kind of city that starts wars.
It sat low in a basin, surrounded by the dark ridges of the Eastern Carpathians, like it's been pressed into the earth and forgotten there.
The air felt colder than it should've been—even in summer—dry and sharp, the kind that stung your lungs on the first breath.
The streets were wide, but quiet. Not empty—just… waiting.
Blocks from the communist era lined the main roads, gray and rectangular, their balconies full with laundry and satellite dishes. Between them, newer buildings tried to break the monotony—glass storefronts, cafés with neat signage, a pedestrian street that felt almost Western at first glance.
But the deeper you looked, the more the identity shifted.
Hungarian flags. Székely banners. Signs written first in Hungarian, Romanian second—sometimes smaller, sometimes like an afterthought.
This wasn't a Romanian city.
It was something else wearing Romania's borders.
People moved differently too. Conversations flowed in Hungarian more often than not—fast, natural, unfiltered. Romanian was there, but you could feel it… like a second layer, not the foundation.
No one was shouting.
But you could feel the tension in the air.
Quiet, contained, but everywhere.
At the center, old buildings broke through the concrete monotony—the Mikó Castle, low and fortified, more functional than grand. Nearby churches stood like anchors in time: Catholic spires, an Orthodox cathedral, each claiming space in the same sky.
Miercurea Ciuc didn't feel like a battlefield.
It felt like a line.
A place where two identities coexisted—
until someone decided they couldn't anymore.
I spotted an old man and stopped him.
"Jó napot kívánok. Mit történik itt?" I asked in Hungarian, needing to know what the hell was going on.
"A SFF átvette az irányítást a város felett. A román csendőrök úton vannak," he replied.
SFF took control. The gendarmerie are on the way.
Yeah… that tracks.
They showed up five minutes later—around 30 vans.
So the government wasn't bluffing about the mobilization.
For Romania, this is big.
Still… if the SFF were anything like Oblivion, these people were walking into a slaughter.
Or worse—this is Oblivion, just wearing a Székely mask.
And if we're to judge by the numbers, each van carried around six to eight gendarmes, meaning maybe 200–240 men in total.
Against the SFF's force of 1.000 fighters, the gendarmes were heavily outnumbered — roughly 4 to 5 against each of them.
This would be worse than Nagano. Sure, the SFF would take Csikszereda without much bloodshed, but Szekely Land would quickly turn into a new Kosovo.
Romania would have no choice but to deploy its armies. The real battles would be in Szentgyorgy and Targu Mures.
But not if I handled them myself. With Nelu and me, we could freeze anything within a 250-meter radius, and for those who slipped through, we could launch ice missiles to neutralize the remaining forces.
The gendarmes advanced in formation, shields up.
Then the SFF moved.
They stepped out of cover like they'd been there the whole time—snipers taking position, archers lining up behind them…
…and tanks rolling in behind it all.
The tanks fired through the gendarmerie line. Shields shattered. Gendarmes stumbled back.
I had to move—fast.
I summoned Nelu; icy wings slashed through the air. But I wasn't fast enough. Another tank shot rang out, and ten gendarmes fell, blood splattering across the cobblestones.
Fuck.
Nelu dove low, wings slicing frost across the barrels.
When we reached them, he froze the tanks solid, and I fired ice spears, shattering their frontline. The gendarmes stared, wide-eyed, awe written all over their faces.
I locked eyes with the most buff of them—probably the commander.
"Who the hell are you?," he asked me.
I shrugged, calmly.
"Vrei să stați să vă uitați ca proștii cum pun ăștia mâna pe Miercurea Ciuc, sau o să luptați sub comanda mea și România o să recupereze orașul?" I barked in Romanian.
Basically, I could still use them to cut through the Szekely units—give them space to shoot while I neutralized the targets from the skies.
The tanks were fully taken down.
"Să trăiți, șefu', suntem la ordinele dumneavoastră!" he said, surrendering command.
I lounged forward, firing icicles at the SFF backlines while forming a protective barrier around the gendarmes. I ordered six of them to climb atop the icy wall and pick off SFF units from above.
Mutual fire erupted—my ice spears crashing into the enemy, their arrows bouncing harmlessly off the barrier, while the gendarmes skillfully cleared the way with the ice shotguns I'd made for them.
But that only secured the front. To the flanks, I launched ice missiles at the archers' positions, taking out a few before they could retaliate.
Their numbers were dropping fast—by my estimate, the SFF had only slightly more fighters left than the gendarmes.
Then, wizards spilled out from a nearby bloc. Dark magic users. LaVey's body-modded mages.
They opened fire on me. I had to dodge. Nelu and I shifted to defence, ice barriers shattering faster than I could rebuild them.
Of course… LaVey studied me. He knew removing my aerial advantage was the only way to hurt me. And Nelu, drained from the speed potion, was starting to slow.
Fuck.
I'm sorry, boy. I pushed you too far.
Then the barrier around us cracked. A magician fired a shot straight at Nelu.
In that instant, I dissipated my Sacred Gear. I could still rely on my cryokinesis to carve a landing zone.
But then—pain. A bullet tore through my left arm. Blood spread fast. My vision blurred, but I focused on hitting the ground.
I crashed near a suburb of houses, architecture distinctly Hungarian, like those smaller cities in the cultural motherland.
The SFF remnants were engaged in a brutal street brawl with the gendarmes, while the dark mages charged straight at me.
Casualties piling up on both sides, but the gendarmes took bigger losses.
However, sirens were sounding in the distance. Police units, likely from Sfântu Gheorghe, joined in the fight.
Romania getting reinforcements.
I staggered to my feet, bracing for the last wave of resistance.
Damn, why are they taking so long?
I'm deadbeat without Suzuka and Haruka.
Fuck.
But if I didn't rush in, the gendarmes would be dead already. The SFF would be marching toward Szentgyorgy.
Yeah. I still had a chance. I ducked for cover, waiting for Azazel and the girls.
And then… silence.
The air vibrated with that ancient, bone-deep aura I felt once before.
The vampires.
They were here.
The SFF soldiers vanished, teleport crystals dissipating out of existence.
A vampire stepped forward—noble, flawless, his face like a porcelain doll. Silver hair framed sharp, red eyes that pierced through the chaos.
An underling hurried over, bowing slightly.
"Marius-sama… the devils have vanished," he reported.
Marius.
The name hit me like a lightning bolt. Memories came rushing back—the nights I'd crashed at his place, numbing the grief for Claire with smoke and alcohol.
How he and Diana constantly clashed. Every detail, every lost moment, it all surged forward.
I clenched my fists.
"I do not care about the devils," Marius said coldly. "I came for this one."
His eyes locked onto me. Red and predatory, like he wanted to drain me down to the last drop.
"Kokonoe Takashi," he continued, his voice calm but lethal. "You have trespassed Romanian territory and left destruction across Transylvania. You are coming with us."
Without warning, the vampires seized me.
"Ah. Finally," I said flatly, "the vampires acting like they actually exist in this country."
Oblivion took over Csíkszereda with a bunch of UDMR traitors and proclaimed Székely Land autonomous… yet here you are, coming for me.
Priorities, am I right?
Marius's red eyes flicked toward me, cold and sharp as blades. His silver hair caught the sunset light.
"You amuse me, Kokonoe Takashi," he said, voice smooth, low, with the kind of controlled patience only centuries of existence can forge. "Laugh at chaos while it swirls around you… That arrogance will get you broken."
He tilted his head, a faint smirk at the corner of his lips. "Csíkszereda? The Székely Liberation Front? Mere mortals playing at rebellion. You think they matter to me? No. You do."
Marius stepped closer, the air around him chilling as though the castle itself obeyed his presence. "You've trespassed, destroyed, and shown defiance. That… is intolerable. And yet, I do not hate you. You are… familiar. Dangerous, yes, but familiar. One might even call it nostalgic."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "You will come with me. Resistance is pointless. And if you think otherwise…"
His crimson gaze sharpened, piercing through my defenses. "…you will learn exactly why vampires are the rulers of this land."
I'm wounded and Nelu is down, it's not like I can resist.
Yeah.
I realized something important as they started dragging me away, lifting me toward the horizon.
My Romania—my past life—had interloping clans, the SRI running the country behind the scenes, puppet politicians serving hidden interests.
This Romania… this one was worse. Supernatural parasites sitting atop the political rot, the mafia lurking behind them, all tightening their grip.
And then I saw them.
Azazel, Suzuka, Haruka, and Koneko—teleporting into the central square as if the city itself bent to their will.
That was the last thing I saw before the blood loss dragged me under, darkness swallowing me whole.
________________
[Haruka POV]
I was lounging at home when Azazel suddenly appeared in my apartment, Suzuka and Tojou Koneko floating quietly behind him.
"Yo. Sorry to disturb you, ice princess, truth is…" Azazel began, that ever-casual grin plastered on his face.
I raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? Did you just pop in for fun, or is this serious?"
Suzuka stepped forward, her voice soft as a breeze. "Kokonoe-kun went to Romania… Haruka-chan."
Toujou Koneko followed, her gaze setting on me. "He asked me to let Azazel-sensei know, and… to get you two."
I tilted my head, watching them carefully. Something's up.
"He went to Romania? Again? What's the matter this time?"
Last time he went there, it was after Nagano… He left without a word. When I texted him, all I got was a flat, "I'll be back in a day."
Suzuka and Chisato-san got nothing either.
And that was when he met his child self.
A cold realization slid through me. If Kokonoe-kun went there now, it could only mean…
"Oblivion attacked Romania," I whispered, breathless.
Suzuka nodded, her expression tightening. "It's not just Oblivion. Something else is happening there."
Azazel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. And your boyfriend—"
"He's not—!"
I snapped automatically, heat rising to my face.
Azazel raised a hand. "—your problem now."
His grin faded just a notch. "But yeah, this isn't a joke."
"There's a separatist militia operating in the Hungarian-majority counties in Transylvania. They're calling themselves the Székely Liberation Front."
He glanced between us, eyes sharper now.
"This morning, they declared an autonomous republic inside Romania."
A beat.
"But don't get it twisted." He snorted lightly. "The SFF? That's just Oblivion wearing a Székely flag.
Azazel scratched the back of his head. "Romania already responded. Fast, too."
"They sent in the gendarmerie—riot units, transport vans, the whole deal. Tried to contain it before it spirals."
He let out a short breath through his nose.
"Problem is… they walked straight into it."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Couple hundred guys against a force like that? If this really is Oblivion, then those gendarmes aren't equipped for what they're facing."
A pause.
"And knowing Kokonoe…" Azazel glanced at us, expression turning knowingly dry. "He didn't wait around to see how that plays out, did he?"
That shut me up.
Koneko stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "Senpai said… the gendarmes would die if he didn't go."
Of course he did.
Of course he'd throw himself into a warzone because someone else might get hurt.
My hands curled into fists.
"Where is he now?" I asked, already knowing I wouldn't like the answer.
Azazel's grin faded. "Probably waiting for us. Well—for you two to bail him out, and me to fix whatever's left of the city."
A magic circle flared beneath our feet, symbols spinning into place.
"Then what are we waiting for?" I stepped forward without hesitation. "Let's bring him back."
The world twisted.
And Romania rushed up to meet us.
Miercurea Ciuc—so that's what Azazel called it—looked like it had just survived a siege. Buildings around the central square were scarred, chunks missing, walls riddled with bullet holes.
Romanian police units swarmed the streets, dragging away politicians and militants alike.
Azazel walked up to one of the officers, speaking to him in Romanian.
They exchanged a few quick words.
Then he turned back to us.
"He says a young guy helped the gendarmerie push back the SFF… but the last time they saw him, he got shot down."
I froze.
"So… is Kokonoe-kun alive?" I asked, my voice barely steady.
Suzuka bit her lip, eyes lowering.
Toujou's ears twitched, betraying her tension.
Then I saw him.
"Look," I said, pointing up.
Kokonoe-kun—injured, barely conscious—being dragged through the sky… by vampires.
My heart dropped.
For a brief second, our eyes met.
Then his closed.
Azazel clicked his tongue, sharp and irritated.
"Damn it… Carmilla," he muttered, eyes narrowing as he tracked their retreat. "They moved fast."
His expression hardened, all traces of humor gone.
As if he'd heard us, one of the vampires glanced back—a blonde man with a doll-like face, calm… almost amused.
Then he crushed a teleport crystal.
They vanished midair.
My heart nearly stopped.
Azazel clicked his tongue, sharp and annoyed.
"…Tch. Of all people."
His eyes narrowed, staring at the empty sky where they'd disappeared.
"You know who that is?" I asked, turning to him.
Azazel exhaled, eyes still on the sky.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Marius Tepes. King Tepes' eldest son."
A chill ran down my spine.
"The vampires here are split," he went on, tone sharpening just a little. "Two main factions. Tepes and Carmilla."
He scratched his cheek.
"Tepes are the male line—old blood, power, pride. They see themselves as the rightful rulers."
A brief pause.
"Carmilla's the opposite. Female-led. More political, more… refined. They're the ones actually keeping things from falling apart."
Azazel shoved his hands into his pockets.
"They don't get along. At all. Call it a cold war with fangs."
His gaze darkened slightly.
"And if a Tepes like Marius just grabbed Kokonoe…"
A beat.
"…then this just got a whole lot worse."
(scene break)
The chamber in Sighișoara was cold, but the king himself radiated a presence colder than stone.
King Tepeș lounged on a high-backed chair, silver hair cascading over black robes, eyes sharp and calculating.
Candles flickered, but the shadows never reached him.
Azazel bowed slightly before stepping forward. "Your Majesty. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."
Tepes' crimson eyes lazily followed him. "Azazel… I hear you've brought trouble from the mortal world into my lands."
His tone was smooth, almost bored, but it carried a subtle edge, like a blade sliding along a whetstone.
"A certain young man… Kokonoe Takashi. Trespassed Romanian territory. An outsider, no?"
Azazel's expression didn't falter. "He is no outsider. He is my ally, Your Majesty. He acted in defense of Romania—your neighbors—against the Szekely Liberation Front."
Tepes arched a brow, folding one long-fingered hand over the other. "Your ally, you say? Hmm…" He leaned back, letting the words hang. "Curious. I do not know him, Azazel. Perhaps you are biased in your judgment."
Azazel shifted, keeping his voice calm, firm. "I understand, Your Majesty. But I assure you, his actions have protected both mortal and vampire interests. His loyalty is proven."
The king chuckled softly, a sound that made the room feel smaller. "Ah… loyalty. Loyalty is a fickle thing among mortals. Among us…"
His gaze swept over the walls as if weighing unseen forces. "…less so. But apparently, loyalty can be inconvenient."
At that moment, the chamber doors swung open, and a pale messenger hurried in, cloak flaring. "Your Majesty," he said, voice tight, "the High Council has reached a decision regarding the intruder. He is to be executed. Immediate action."
Tepes' eyes narrowed at the news, not in fear, but in recognition. His lips curved into a thin, knowing smile.
"Ah… I see. Marius is pressing his influence even here. So the council's hand is guided by my son's ambition, not necessity."
Azazel stepped closer, voice steady but urgent. "Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider. Kokonoe is not your enemy. Executing him would… provoke unnecessary conflict, destabilize the region."
Tepeș let out a soft hum, leaning forward slightly. His fingers drummed against the armrest. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Decisions have been made. But…" His eyes locked with Azazel's. "…I will hear more before my lands are stained with foolish blood. That is all I promise—for now."
The tension in the room was palpable. Azazel inclined his head, acknowledging Tepes' words, but he knew better than to mistake them for agreement.
As he turned to leave, Tepes' voice followed him like a shadow. "Azazel… remember. In this land, trespassers are judged swiftly. Even allies may be mistaken for enemies."
Azazel's voice cut through the shadowed chamber, calm but firm.
"The boy is Romanian. I know it sounds improbable, but he's a reincarnated human, given a second life. He fights for his country—his homeland. Just as you once did."
Tepeș stopped. He let out a dry, humorless chuckle, the sound echoing like distant thunder. His crimson eyes were shining in the candlelight, sharp as spikes.
"Once," he murmured, almost to himself. "Yes… I impaled the Turks, the corrupt boyars, every man, woman, and fiend who plagued my lands. And how were my deeds repaid?"
He leaned back, the faintest shadow of a smile curling his lips. "With betrayal and shackles. A decade rotting in a Hungarian cell."
His gaze flicked toward Azazel, cold and unyielding.
"Do not speak to me of nations anymore. I care for nothing but the taste of power and the silence of my enemies."
…Wow. What a drama king.
Still, Azazel got what he needed. Through Tepes' little rant, he pieced it together—Bistrița Citadel. That's where Kokonoe-kun was being held.
So we moved fast.
The council chamber felt like a cathedral built for predators. Rows of pale aristocrats watched us with the same interest someone gives insects pinned under glass.
Suzuka stood close to me, fingers trembling against her skirt. Tojou was silent, her aura coiled tight like a cat hunting a mice.
Azazel stepped forward, hands casually in his pockets, but his voice carried steel.
"Marius Tepeș, heir to the Tepeș faction," he said, inclining his head with measured respect. "It's been a long time."
The silver‑haired vampire — the one who dragged Kokonoe‑kun away — smirked, eyebrow twitching.
"Fallen Angel Governor. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"
Azazel stepped forward, hands casually in his pockets, his voice calm but lethal.
"Kokonoe Takashi. He is my ally. Yes, he interfered in human affairs, but he did so to save lives. And I would think even the Tepes faction would benefit from Oblivion being crushed, no?"
Marius tilted his head, a thin smile curling on his lips.
"Your ally trespassed on Tepes territory. He destabilized the region. The Council has spoken. Execution at midnight."
Suzuka gasped softly.
Tojou didn't gasp. She whispered, almost too quiet to hear:
"…first Gya‑kun… now Senpai…"
Her fists clenched. "Why do Romanian vampires keep hurting the people I like?..."
A ripple went through the chamber — amusement, annoyance, boredom.
They didn't care.
Azazel's smile vanished. "If Kokonoe dies, Grigori will respond. You know exactly what that means."
The silver‑haired vampire tilted his head. "Then keep your little lapdog out of Romania. Permanently. Do that… and perhaps we avoid unnecessary conflict."
Behind him, the council murmured approval.
That was when I noticed her — a blonde girl in a red dress. She slipped out a side door, quiet as a shadow.
No one else reacted.
Suzuka grabbed my sleeve, voice shaking. "Haruka‑chan… they're really going to kill him…"
Azazel swore under his breath.
And for the first time, Marius' smile cracked.
The doors slammed open.
And just like that, the entire chamber shifted.
King Tepes walked in—slow, deliberate—his presence cutting through the noise like a blade. The Carmilla side erupted into boos almost instantly, but he didn't even glance at them.
His eyes were locked on one person.
"Marius," he said, voice low, worn… but still carrying that unmistakable authority, "since when do you presume to make decisions of this scale without my approval?"
He didn't shout.
He didn't need to.
The room felt it anyway.
"I allowed this Council to exist," he continued, his tone sharpening, "because I thought it might become a bridge for unity. Not a stage for your ambition."
Marius stiffened. Just slightly—but I caught it.
"Father…" he began. "Perhaps time has taken its toll. Maybe it's time you let the next generation handle what you no longer can."
…Wow.
Yeah, no family issues here. Totally healthy.
Tepes' expression darkened, something ancient and bitter flashing behind his eyes.
"I have seen empires rise and rot," he said, voice rougher now, like gravel dragged over steel. "I have burned traitors, impaled invaders, and watched this land devour its own sons."
A pause. Heavy.
"Do not mistake exhaustion for weakness."
The temperature in the room dropped.
"Old or not," he went on, quieter—but somehow even more dangerous, "I am still your King."
His gaze swept the chamber, daring anyone to challenge it. No one did.
"We are divided enough as it is," he said. "The last thing we need is a war with outside factions… over a boy whose only crime is caring too much about a country that no longer belongs to us."
That line…
Yeah. That hit harder than it should've.
"You will cancel the execution," he finished. "Now."
Silence.
Even the Carmilla side didn't dare interrupt this time.
Marius's jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought he'd push back.
Then—
"…Yes, Father."
The words came out strained. Begrudging.
I exhaled quietly, my shoulders finally dropping a little.
That was our opening.
I nudged Suzuka lightly, leaning closer.
"Hey," I whispered, a small, relieved smile slipping through despite everything. "Let's grab our idiot and get out of here before they change their minds."
But by the time we arrived…
We were already too late.
Kokonoe-kun stood there, unmoving.
Different.
Red eyes.
Sharp fangs.
And they were staring straight at us.
________
[Bistrița Citadel - Kokonoe POV]
Last time I was in Bistrița, it was to meet a friend—in another life.
Now? I was being dragged here by vampires.
I knelt at the center of a vast circular chamber, carved deep into the Carpathian rock. Chains of blackened silver bound my wrists and ankles—not ordinary metal, but something that hummed with magic suppression.
Around me, seated on raised tiers like a Roman senate fused with a gothic cathedral, stood the High Council of Vampires.
Gasper already explained the basics to me. The Tepes faction—male-dominated, centered around their King. The Carmilla faction—female-led, ladies circling their Queen.
Two halves of the same power, constantly at odds.
Lately, though… they'd started pretending at unity.
This council?
That was their idea of compromise.
I had to suppress a laugh.
Two worlds. Same pattern.
Romanians tearing each other apart, fighting over scraps.
A bitter thought crossed my mind.
We don't fall to the enemy's bullets.
The sickness is in our own souls.
Across the chamber sat lords and ladies who proved Octavian Goga right—even across dimensions.
And one of them looked strikingly similar to Gasper.
…Yeah. That's definitely his dad.
I exhaled through my nose.
Still—Vladi as a family name?
That's a diminutive for Vlad, damn it.
I used to call a childhood frenemy that.
Marius' voice brought me back to the present, his smug posture leaning over the counter like he owned it.
"Kokonoe Takashi. You stand before the High Council of the Vampire Kingdom, rightful rulers of these lands. You are charged with the following:
One — unlawful trespass into Romanian sovereign territory.
Two — destruction of property and interference in the internal affairs of Székely Land.
Three — aiding human military forces against a proclaimed Székely National Republic.
Four — repeated acts of aggression against supernatural interests in Transylvania, including the events in Nagano that drew international attention.
How do you plead?"
You know this is as big a masquerade as Ceaușescu's trial, right?
I lifted my head, tasting blood in my mouth, and gave him the flattest stare I could manage.
"Guilty on all counts. Next question?"
A ripple of angry murmurs went through the council.
Marius actually threw me a thin smile.
"Bold. I expected nothing less from the anomaly who survived Oblivion's hunts. But boldness will not save you here. The Székely Liberation Front was a human matter… until you turned it into a supernatural incident.
You froze tanks, armed gendarmes with forbidden ice constructs, and slaughtered dozens of fighters who were simply reclaiming what history stole from them at Trianon."
He rose slowly, crimson cape trailing.
A girl on the council spoke up—posture straight, chin slightly raised, every bit the aristocrat.
She had that unmistakable doll-like beauty—long, wavy blonde hair spilling like a cascade over her shoulders, pale skin almost corpse-like, and deep crimson eyes that looked down on the world with practiced superiority.
Yeah. Carmilla faction. No doubt.
"The Hungarian claims to ancestral lands in Transylvania contradict the current reality of human Romania," she said, voice smooth but edged with disdain. "The so-called Oblivion Syndicate is led by a Hungarian irredentist politician who also happens to be a Satanic cult leader."
Her gaze shifted to me—sharp, measuring.
"And yet, you consider this… insignificant devil a greater threat to us than that?"
I'm standing right here, you bitch.
…Nah.
You didn't.
"Elmenhilde," Marius cut in, voice calm but firm, "we are vampires. Our loyalty is to neither human nation. Not to Romania. Nor to Hungary. Perhaps some of Carmilla's supporters simply don't understand reason."
Elmenhilde's expression darkened, her fury obvious, lips pressing into a thin line.
I didn't give her a chance to retort.
"The only insignificant people here," I said, voice cutting through the chamber, "are the ones sitting on this council."
A few heads turned. I didn't care.
"What do you know about the real Romania? The one where kids sniff glue in dirty train stations. The one where you stand in line at ten different counters just to get a single stamp."
I took a breath, steadying the anger creeping up my throat.
"The one where theft and dealing are the only ways some kids born in poor neighbourhoods stay afloat. Where the state works against its own people—and they survive by outplaying it."
Silence settled, heavy.
I met their eyes, one by one.
"Your authority over these lands?" I scoffed. "It's nothing."
A beat.
"The Romanian Orthodox Church has more influence than you ever will."
A few Tepes lords shifted, eyes sharpening with irritation. One of the Carmilla women scoffed under her breath.
But the one who looked like Gasper—
He didn't react like them.
Lord Vladi remained seated, posture composed, fingers lightly resting against the arm of his chair. He wasn't angry. Just… thoughtful.
"Enough," he said quietly.
And somehow, that carried more weight than shouting ever could.
The murmurs died instantly.
His gaze settled on me—almost shockingly non hostile in a room full of racist vampires.
"You speak with… familiarity," he continued, voice calm, almost academic.
"Not like an outsider repeating rumors, but like someone who has lived what he describes."
A brief pause.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"And yet," he added, "you stand before us as a Japanese teenager."
The room stilled again.
"So tell me," Vladi said, tilting his head just a fraction, "how does a boy from Japan know so much about Romania?"
I looked each of them in the eye, barely hiding my disdain, and began to sing.
"Poți să fii în lei miliardar, sau in euro milionar. Poți să ai cu lire sterline, că tot fac mișto de tine
Da la mișto te iau / Cum vreau eu / La mișto te fac, nu mi-e greu / Două vorbe și te-am amețit, te fac din cuvinte, nici nu știi ce te-o lovit."
The moment manele spilled from my mouth, the lords and ladies on the council froze—half in disgust, half in awe.
Marius finally broke the silence.
"Regardless of how the intruder claims a Romanian identity," he said, his gaze cutting, "the fact remains."
He turned toward me.
"You are not a devil. You are not a vampire. You are an unregistered human, operating on Romanian soil without permission from the Tepes throne. Under our ancient laws, that is punishable by final death… or worse."
Then, to the guards:
"Escort the prisoner while the council decides his fate."
The next second, they were on me. Dragging me back into that cell, looking ripped straight from a 14th-century dungeon, walls humming with anti-Sacred Gear suppression.
Nelu wouldn't be able to get me out here. Not this time.
Hours passed.
The stone walls pressed close, cold and unmoving. I leaned against the bricks, tracing the cracks with my fingers, trying to anchor myself in something solid. Faint light from the barred window slashed across the floor in sharp angles.
I started to sing, low at first, almost to myself, letting the words rise like a challenge to the silence:
"Am luat atitudine si ne-am implicat
Am demascat prostia si am protestat
Am dat cartile pe fata necenzurat
Din pacate inca nimic nu s-a schimbat..."
The song grew louder, rolling over the walls like a tide. Each verse carried my anger, my disgust for those who hid behind authority and tradition while letting corruption fester. I wasn't singing for the walls—I was singing for the truth.
My voice hit that tired tone once I sang the hook. Trăim în România. We live in Romania. You never knew if it was a blessing or a curse.
"Am visat într-o noapte ca totul s-a schimbat
Se făcea ca Dumnezeu ne-a binecuvântat
Nu mai era hotie, nu mai era prostie
Sloganul național era 'Dreptate si Fratie!'
Nu erau nici manele si se vorbea corect
Pe tricolor scria 'Demnitate si Respect'
Și strigam cu toții: 'Asta-i Romania!'
Nu vrem sa ne trezim, aici vrem sa traim!"
Then I heard it—footsteps. I looked up and saw the Vampire Princess.
Elmenhilde.
Her boots clicked against the stone, and I felt her gaze before I even saw her.
"I heard your… performance," she said calmly. But the edge in her voice betrayed the sting.
I met her gaze.
"I called things as I saw them. The vampires here… they've lost themselves. You hide behind nationalism while ignoring corruption. You pretend loyalty while letting the weak suffer."
Her eyes narrowed, pride and fury flashing. "You presume to lecture me?"
"I presume to speak truth," I said evenly. "And I won't bow to hypocrisy. Not now. Not ever."
She was silent for a moment, hands flexing. I could see her weighing options. The elders wanted me dead.
But she hesitated. That hesitation became my opening.
"You are… dangerous," she murmured, almost to herself. "Not because of your strength, but because of your convictions."
I tilted my head, faintly amused. "I've always been dangerous. You're just noticing now."
Her pupils locked onto mine—sharp, probing, almost predatory. Behind that aristocratic composure, I caught something else: confusion, astonishment… maybe even a little fear.
"Who even are you?" she asked quietly. "What is your business in Romania?"
I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. Time to play the ace.
"My business?" I looked her dead in the eye. "I was born here. My name is Mihai. Mihai Grădinaru. I'm from Brașov. I died—then woke up again in Japan."
Her breath hitched. For a moment, she froze, dumbfounded, processing, fighting the instinct to dismiss me.
Shock morphed into something heavier.
Recognition. She was putting it together—every reference I made, every jab about corruption, every insult cutting too precise, too local.
Too Romanian.
I knew too much for a Japanese teenager. Of course I did.
This was my home.
And the realization hit her so hard she didn't even try to mask it.
"Mihai…" she breathed, then straightened her posture, rebuilding her royal façade.
"You are part of the supernatural world now, yet you still see everything through the lens of a human."
She scoffed, chin lifting with that princess-bred arrogance. "How amusing."
I snorted. "You say that like it's an insult."
"It is," she replied instantly.
Humans were beneath her. Romania was an asset, not a home. Heritage was something you referenced in speeches, not something you bled for.
"That human lens," I said, leaning my head back against the stone wall, "is why I see more clearly than any leech rotting in this castle."
Her eyes flashed. Yeah—there it was. The sting.
"You presume much," she hissed.
"I presume correctly," I shot back. "You vampires talk about Romania like it's a museum you own, not a country full of people you're supposed to protect."
Her lips tightened. I hit the nerve so precisely she couldn't even look away.
"You truly are dangerous," she murmured. "A reincarnated Romanian with a mouth like a guillotine."
"Could be worse," I shrugged. "I could've kept quiet and let you pretend you weren't hypocrites."
She bristled—offended, insulted, but also… impressed. That mix was exactly what made her dangerous too.
"Then…" she continued, anger barely contained, a vein pulsing at her temple. "How about you see the world through our lens?" She leaned in, voice sharpening to a blade. "It's not like you have much of a choice."
Her grin spread wide—too wide—like she savored the moment she could finally put the leash around my throat.
For a second, I swore she enjoyed it more than any victory her precious Carmilla clan ever had.
"I should want you dead," she said, voice calm yet laced with a razor-sharp edge.
"And yet… it does not sit right with me. Marius may have twisted the council, convinced them to act, but I see through it. His obsession with ending you… it is not mere chance. It is deliberate.
Almost as if… he knows something. I trust him as little as I trust a viper in my own court."
She stepped closer to the bars. The air shifted; colder, heavier. Silence, the kind predators weave right before they pounce.
"So if they want to execute you," she murmured, "then I will simply take you first."
Her voice dropped low—intimate, but not soft. Dangerous.
"I will turn you. And when I do…" Her eyes locked onto mine, a crimson pin piercing straight through my soul. "…you will owe me."
She lifted one finger, as if lecturing a disobedient servant.
"One act," she said. "Just one. Fail me, and I will end you myself."
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips—elegant, cruel, perfectly composed.
"But obey…" She paused, letting the word sink in, letting me imagine the bite, the pain, the chains snapping into place.
"…and afterward, you are free. Free of me. Free of Bistrița. Free to carve your own path—whatever it may be."
Her face inched closer to the iron bars.
"Choose, Mihai," she whispered. "Execution… or rebirth."
I considered her carefully.
"One act. Not a lifetime. Not more. Just… one."
Satisfied, she stepped closer—breath ghosting across my neck, fangs catching the moonlight spilling through the narrow window.
I glanced past the bars instinctively. The moon hung high over Bistrița, cold and silver, illuminating the cell like a single flickering bulb.
Midnight.
"It's time," she murmured.
She dug in with no warning.
White-hot, electric, sinking into my skin like fire wrapped in ice. I gritted my teeth but didn't fight. I let it happen.
Let the bite anchor itself into my core. Let the surge of her venom explode through my veins, raw and overwhelming—like someone plugged my soul into a power plant.
My vision shifted. The world folded in on itself. Heat flooded every nerve, every thought, every memory. It burned and revived. Destroyed and remade my entire being.
When she finally pulled away, I staggered back and pressed a hand to the wound. It was still warm, too warm. But beneath the heat, something new pulsed. A rhythm that wasn't entirely mine. A heartbeat with two shadows.
The first night of my new life began with a debt around my throat… but also a door cracked open.
One act. Then I walked.
She left the cell, boots clicking down the corridor, leaving me with a hum of respect I could feel, faint and dangerous.
She thought she had control—but I could already feel it slipping through her fingers.
I flexed my fingers.
There it was—power. The kind rooted in this very soil, tying me to Romania once more.
The land pulled me back, making me stronger than I've ever been.
From a devil to a vampire. At least this power belonged to my homeland.
A new life cutting through the old one, peeling it away layer by layer.
And I smiled.
I always survived. No matter what the world threw at me… I crawled back out of the grave again and again.
But now?
Now I could feel the thirst sliding into my thoughts like a whisper with fangs. Blood. Warm, fresh—mine, hers, anyone's.
I won't discriminate.
A laugh slipped out—low and cracked at the edge.
My mind flashed to workdays in Business Park back in Brașov, watching Hellsing with Geo—my metalhead coworker from my TikTok days.
He joked that if I ever became a vampire, I'd be Alucard, and whoever turned me would get stuck playing Integra.
If Elmenhilde thought that's how things are gonna go, she's delusional.
Because when the time came… when that debt she thought she branded onto me came due…
She'd regret ever believing she could control me.
I'll make her mine.
After I take over Romania.