Chapter Text
There is a mansion that was worth more than a museum’s national treasures combined during the last physical war between the humans and vampires. It’s been 60 years, sitting ostensibly lonely and moldy in its place after the last of its inhabitants left the land to the nature, with the woods branching up to the sky like they’re shielding it away from the eyes of the curious. Now, that mansion is probably worth less than a deserted land.
Of course that’s exactly what Sunghoon wants all of the people who heard of its existence to believe. It makes sneaking out into the city and coming back in undetected much easier compared to when they were in the urbans. Too many eavesdroppers, too many mouths and eyes to avoid.
The door to the master bedroom creaks in retaliation when he pushes them open, coming out with a sigh and a pinch to the bridge of his nose. That gesture alone is enough to alert the two adolescent boys waiting outside of the bedroom, standing rigid in their polished shoes as they eye him warily.
“How’s he?” one of the boys, hair a luscious golden hue that sweeps over the lines of his shoulders, a stark contrast to his liquid black eyes, ask carefully.
Sunghoon spares them both a look, almost despondent. Quite honestly, the boys are not used to seeing him with such expression because he has always been a man of logic; there’s always a way out of any fucked-ups you have, kind of a guy. To see him like this makes the whole situation in hand much worse than any of them would have liked to admit.
Yet as quickly as how hopeless he appears, his eyes harden, his rosy lips pulled into a thin line.
“We need to find him,” Sunghoon says in finality. “He’s not gonna be pleased with us ignoring his orders like this but this might be our only chance to save him.”
They call him the Witch Doctor, or if you want a more endearing label; Death Angel.
Quite notorious and bizarre for a simple guy who goes around wearing worn down coats and high-knee boots that takes days to scrub off dried mud and mosses for a job so risky, but that’s also probably one of the good reasons he acquired it. He would have much preferred freelancer slash doctor over the two slanderous names but he's grown into it over the years.
Lee Heeseung likes to regard himself as a simple guy who likes cream cheese on his bagel for breakfast and just 6 shots of americano (when he actually has time to go fetch one) to will away any resting fatigue or sleep aching in his body because work is calling.
Work, work, work. Not enough vampire doctor in this world to tend to millions of them scattered all over the world.
Yes, a vampire doctor. Heeseung can tend to both of those kinds, humans and vampires, but it seems a great portion that makes up his patients day by day have been those blood-sucking creatures. Has been for the last 20 years of his service.
And also, illegal because doctors for vampires are scorned, banned and killed by the government if ever found out. Truthfully said, Heeseung has no idea how he’s able to survive this long considering there are always their snoopers sleuthing around for the likes of him.
One of his patients had joked before that maybe some of the vampires had been doing him a favour by dealing with those snoopers because he’s the only doctor available who is willing to go to such length to treat the human’s enemies.
Hah. Might be it. Although, Heeseung would rather not be accused of someone’s death if ever they tried to pin it on him just because a community wants to keep his job running for him.
His last duty of the day, and it’s raining like there’s no tomorrow by the time he reaches his patient’s apartment.
“Oh lord,” he huffs, kicking mud off the heels of his boots when he gets off the taxi, scurrying into the lobby afterwards when the sky spews needle raindrops into his direction.
“Good morning,” he greets the guard at the reception desk, the middle aged man nodding in his direction as he hops into the lift. He’s come here a few times for one of his patients, enough that the guard doesn’t even bat an eye when one time he came running into the lobby at an emergency call from the said patient.
This apartment is particularly worn down appearance wise and gives off the vibes that it houses thugs and troublemakers; mostly vampire tenants, but it never bothers Heeseung much considering the tenants have been ignorant of his presence every time he comes over.
Though he has to admit, something seems a bit off today. That ominous feeling that you would get after hanging up your laundry to dry outside with the sun blazing rays down to the surface dwellers, only to have the sky decidedly being merciful on that very day and you come home to drenched laundry.
Yea, that kind.
“How’re you doing, Mr Lee?” Heeseung ask when the patient opens the door, a crippled old man well in his 70s that walks around with a crutch after his last service in the army. A Turned, unfortunate to have stumbled upon a starving rogue in his duty and barely surviving after being attacked. Now, he’s only able to go around without sniffing on a human every ten minutes because of Heeseung’s restraining potions and treatments.
“I’m doing great,” the old man grins, missing a good three teeth from his upper row. Though today, his grin doesn’t reach his ears quite like how they used to and there’s a significant tension in his eyebrows as he glances at Heeseung.
“I brought you the potions like you asked me to,” Heeseung makes to come in, per usual as whenever he’s going to hand over potions and medicines to his patients. A precaution in advanced considering there are those who might jump on their transaction.
However, Mr Lee hesitates, standing frozen at the door without moving an inch as if struck. Heeseung halts in his step.
“Mr Lee?”
“Oh yes, come in, son. Come in,” the man finally gives room for Heeseung to come in, yet with his reluctance, Heeseung’s not sure how to make out the situation. Has the old man brought a guest over? He would have understood well if he did.
Mr Lee has been a regular of Heeseung for three years now, make it four come next two months. He’s been nothing but a sweet old man with the right dad puns to knock Heeseung off his feet every time he comes over to drop off potions and meds. Mr Lee lacks the commodities and movement to get the them from Heeseung himself so Heeseung had long taken the initiative to reduce his burden.
Call him a pushover or selfless, but in the course of his services, he’s well equipped enough to distinguish those who are in real need from those who are really taking advantage of his kindness.
Briefly, he wonders if he had been wrong in his judgement. Mr Lee, as of moment, looks as guilty as how a child thief does with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Is something wrong, Mr Lee?” Heeseung addresses, stepping over the threshold, his instinct couldn’t deny the unease gnawing at the pit of his stomach from Mr Lee’s odd behaviour.
“Oh, just—”
The door behind Heeseung closes with a soft ‘click’, barely audible to human ears but Heeseung is, well, technically no normal human. The barest of a breeze stroking Heeseung’s cheek as it passes by is so bleak it was almost non-existent.
But it happened. Heeseung’s skin pricks all over with goosebumps, shoulders tensed up with significant danger alert.
“Mr Lee,” Heeseung says, softly to hide the tremor simmering in his veins. Suddenly, the room feels a lot colder than Heeseung initially view it, darker in places that hides shadows too peculiar for them to be just mere sun’s borne.
Mr Lee is looking at him, beyond him actually, fear visible in his eyes but not for him.
It’s for the person behind him.
“The infamous Witch Doctor,” a man, boyish with his tone of voice, says.
There’s a lump in the back of Heeseung’s throat that’s preventing him from breathing, heightened with fear and betrayal.
Two figures emerge from the corner of the living room, tall and looming with their presences as they stand beside Mr Lee, the old man cowering into himself at the proximity.
“I’m sorry, Heeseung,” Mr Lee manages to croak, lips wobbly. “I—they said they needed you and they’ll find me if—if—”
“We’ll cut the chat,” one of the two strangers pipes in, slanted eyes piercing through Heeseung’s to understand exactly how much Heeseung fears and dread this kind of encounter to happen in his life.
“Come with us, and we guarantee your safety.”
“I’m not really convinced if you threatened one of my patients to bait me like this,” Heeseung manages to retaliate, though he should have held his tongue.
“Then I’ll make this easier for all of us,” the person behind him says. Heeseung turns around just in time for a jab to come down on the knock-out point of his neck, crippling him and he collapses on the floor, blacked out.