Chapter Text
Our Father, which art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy will be done in earth,
As it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive them that trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
The power, and the glory,
For ever and ever…
“Amen,” Jimin whispered just as she finished her night prayers, kneeling among the wood benches of the small chapel of the convent. She lifted up her gaze, pupils falling on the big silver cross that dominated the altar, its calming presence being enough to put the nun’s soul at ease. Jimin smiled softly, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips just as she rose to her feet and, with a respectful bow towards the cross, she turned around and made her way back into the convent and back to her chambers.
Yu Jimin, 26 years old, has spent the last 9 living in the little convent located at the outskirts of Suwon, lost among trees and mountains at a good distance from the city that was her hometown. Since she was 17 years old, Jimin was certain and resolute that her only purpose in life was to heed her God’s calling, to do everything by His name, to serve Him devoutly until the end of her days. Her family tried to change her mind, but not to avail, her faith ended up winning the battle and so she sealed her destiny the day she took her vows, a few months shy of turning 18.
On her way back, she stopped by the gardens, the small patio of the convent bathing in the bright moonlight that cascaded without any cloud hindering its pace; it was peaceful, the sounds of the mountain at night, the flowing of the water from the fountain and the rustling of the rest of the sisters preparing to go to bed. Jimin closed her eyes, letting herself bask in the silver light, thanking her God again for His gifts of nature that she gets to enjoy.
Her feet brought her to the long set of stairs leading to the upper chambers, the heels of her flat and modest shoes resonating between the narrow stone walls; she never failed to marvel at the architecture of the convent, a sturdy building that resisted the push of time ever since it was built by european soldiers centuries ago. It was a fine work and, even if it was considered a sin, Jimin was proud of being a part of it, of being blessed with its wooden smell and the familiar coziness it provided.
The fluttering of the robes of her habit around her ankles and the way her wimple pressed over her neck and jaw was comforting most of the time, but that late into the night Jimin only wanted to change into her sleep garments and fall into the softness of her bed, to replenish her batteries deep into the dreams bestowed by Him.
As she made her way down the corridor, silence engulfed her completely. The hallway used to be filled with senior nuns, which gladly took the young novice under their wing when she first joined all these years back; but the older sisters went back to reunite with the Lord year after year, and only Jimin’s room was left in that area of the convent. It was somehow comforting as well, she felt as if those beloved nuns were still with her, encouraging her and supporting her even long after their passing. Soon enough new nuns would populate these comfortable, and arguably, larger rooms, just as new novices kept on joining the convent.
She pushed her heavy oak door open, and once it closed her hands were fast untying and removing her wimple, exposing her creamy white neck and letting her long black locks of hair fall down her shoulders. A new satisfied sigh left her lips as she massaged her nape with her fingers while her feet brought her deeper into her room. The light of the moon, never as pure and silver, was slipping into her stone walls, licking every inch of the floor it fell onto.
And suddenly, the smile that was slowly forming on her lips froze, and a grimace of horror took over her face. Jimin couldn’t even scream, dark eyes as big as saucers staring ahead at a sight straight out of a hellish nightmare; blood was dripping, shining black and sticky under the silver light, dripping from a pair of hands that to Jimin looked more like sharp claws, dripping from pearly white fangs that pressed insistently against a plump lower lip, just as dark and red as almost the rest of the side profile of the girl that was, in that very moment, perched on her windowsill, good 8 meters above the ground.
She gripped her cross pendant, knuckles going white with pressure while she looked, paralyzed, at the way the girl was staring at the full moon, plump and bloodied lips moving softly, as if she was muttering some sort of prayer. Her white hair cascaded down her back, blown by the soft wind of the night and dancing over her shoulders, her straight nose casting a soft shadow over her face. Jimin fell to her knees with a thud and, suddenly, the girl turned her head towards her and the nun’s own face got drained of all color.
Because even if the girl’s beauty was almost angelic, her eyes were red, deep and dark like a well, and the pull that Jimin felt was instantaneous and so strong that she felt how the air got stuck in her throat and she couldn’t breathe. Those eyes were fixed on her, as if they were unraveling even the tiniest corner of her soul while that thick blood kept on dripping from lips, teeth and fingers alike.
For the first time in 26 years, Jimin felt fear. True fear, a fear that is cold and grips at the heart and seeps into the bones just to shatter them into pieces; a fear that paralyzes and freezes and at the same time burns when the first instinct is to run away, but you just can’t.
The woman suddenly stood up, feet firm and light over the ledge of the window, and Jimin’s soul shivered, eyes filling with tears. Still muttering to herself, the girl took a few steps back and, swiftly, she let herself fall into the darkness of the night, 8 meters above the ground. A strangled scream escaped Jimin’s throat, rushing and falling in her attempt of getting closer to the window and opening it just to look into the black mantle of the forest, where even the pure light of the night got lost among the trees.
Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she was ready to put the blame on the fatigue from such a long day, but her trembling eyes told her the unmistakable truth, the one she wasn’t sure if she was going to be ready to accept anytime soon.
Because, right under the silver light of the moonlight and with its copper smell hitting her like a slap across the face now that the window was open, there was fresh blood still shining on her windowsill.
Sleep didn’t come for sister Jimin that night. With her silver cross pendant gripped in her left fist and her right thumb constantly caressing her rosary ring, her wide panicked eyes were fixed on the big glass window of her chambers. The light of the moon streamed into her room the whole night, covering everything in its path with its cold halo, a sight before so comforting that now felt like a reminder of the crimson stains on her windowsill that she tried so hard to remove to the point of even drawing blood out of her own fingertips, before exhaustion claimed her body back to bed.
Her mind was a furnace, hot and fuming, terrible thoughts about demons and devils flying everywhere among her ideas, and the reminder of these two red eyes clouding her head. Even if she tried to rationalize, to blame it on a dream, deep down Jimin knew it was real, it happened; and she was so very afraid. Afraid of long pointy fangs and sharp claw-like fingers, afraid of pretty features marred by dripping blood, afraid of a pair of scarlet orbs, deep and empty, but at the same time, full of an emotion Jimin couldn’t even start to guess.
Afraid of the pull she felt towards the creature, afraid of the fact that, for a split second, the thought of willingly giving her neck for those teeth to sink crossed her mind. Along with fear, shame crawled all over her body, a dangerous mix of thoughts and emotions polluting her mind and not letting her soul rest for the night.
That’s how the breaking of dawn found her, tired eyes fixed on the window while it was now the soft golden rays of the sun the ones slipping into her room, announcing a new day. With an exhausted sigh, Jimin got out of bed; it was another long day ahead, full of convent chores.
A nice and hot shower didn’t do much to make Jimin’s sore body feel better, the tension still gripping her muscles; her senses dimmed, the sleepless night stuck to her back like a bag full of bricks. Still, fresh out of the shower and with a clean habit modestly covering her figure, the young nun made her way downstairs, to the kitchens.
“So that’s what Myungeun said,” it’s the first thing that greeted Jimin when she crossed the threshold of the kitchen, a handful of nuns already working on the preparation of the breakfast that was to be served to the rest of the convent’s population, “but that’s horrible… may he rest in peace under the Lord’s grace.”
“What is?” Jimin asked, taking her place by the table and starting her little task of distributing the kitchen utensils and trays for the rest of the sisters.
“A dead body was found in the forest, in the outskirts of the city,” one of Jimin's closest friends, Uchinaga Aeri, said, a spark of worry shining in her brown eyes, “wait, what happened to your fingers?”
Jimin’s blood ran cold. Her trembling gaze went up to meet Aeri’s, already picturing the body of a delicate looking blonde girl covered in blood being found among trees and vegetation; and that simple thought was enough for the nun to feel how her heart constricted, painfully and nonsensically.
“Do not fret, I just injured them by accident when closing my door last night. Do they know who it is?” Jimin’s question was nonchalant, the complete opposite of the storm unraveling inside her chest, deep below her ribcage. Aeri nodded.
“When Myungeun came at the breaking of dawn to deliver the daily groceries she said it was one of the townsfolk. A man called Kim Minsik, a construction worker,” at that, Jimin’s mind tuned down Aeri’s voice, a strange sensation of relief washing over her body while, at the same time, the prickling feeling of instinctive fear started gnawing right below her sternum; until Aeri’s voice made it through her brain fog and her next words sounded crystal clear, “he was recognized because of his id card, because half of his face was ripped apart, it seems it was a complete mess. They also found two weird puncture wounds on his neck.”
The way the color drained off Jimin’s face was almost painful, the last set of utensils clinking on the tray. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to cover the troubled expression of her face with a mask of sorrow that wasn’t entirely fake. After all, a person just lost their life and, most probably, the culprit thought that lounging on her windowsill for the night was the best idea. The cold grip of fear and uneasiness clawed at her gut.
“I hope he is resting between God’s arms, what an awful fate to meet,” was Jimin’s response, “I’ll be in the library, I’m not hungry and today I’m on chapel maintenance duty.” The young nun forced a smile and Aeri’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Are you sure? I’ve heard that today breakfast is your favorite,” Aeri’s voice followed a retreating Jimin, who didn’t even bother to turn around or answer at all.
Her mind was a jumbled mess of graphic descriptions and blurred memories, and she felt her heart quickening as her steps grew faster on her way to the convent’s library. That early in the morning, it was completely empty, so the sound of the heels of her shoes resonating through the ample room was company enough.
One of her favorite places in the whole convent was the library, packed to the brim with books of every theme and topic, from novels to science, from religion to comedy, it was the perfect place where nuns could spend their leisure time, in tranquility and immersing themselves in stories and lives so distinct of the one they took their vows for. There was a section, though, where dust accumulated, hidden in plain sight at the corner most far from the entrance, where a double depth shelf stood.
She remembered one of the late nuns chastising her when she found that particular stack of books, forbidding her from taking them and perusing through their pages. Those books had spent more time in the convent than all the current nuns combined, pages yellow and fragile. She remembered how her 17 years old self read the words undead and vampire before the elder nun closed the book for her, all those years back.
Jimin wasn’t a child anymore, and so she closed the door behind her back and made her way towards that particular shelf and, one by one, she took the first layer of books and placed them on the floor, revealing to her eyes, once again, the old and tattered leather book spines. Her finger traced each one of them, reading with some difficulty the blurred words on some of them until her pupils found the one she was looking for.
“Spawns of the devil and how to identify them,” muttered Jimin, voice low and breathy, and with shaky hands she took the fragile book and brought it with her to the nearest table.
And there, under the soft glow of the morning sun, sister Jimin started to read the long forbidden words, opening a door of knowledge that she, willingly, wouldn’t ever dared to enter herself.
It is said that a long time ago, so long ago not even the passing of time has a memory of it, the world shook and the grounds opened, swallowing everything above. From the depths of the earth, dark dense smoke rose, flames licking and eating everything in their wake, melting the soil and boiling the water alike.
Hell made its way to the surface, barren lands upon the fracture of the ground forming a passage for monsters and evils to walk and emerge, to reign over the sons of men and to break havoc wherever they pleased. Made of fire and ash, skin so cold that it froze the liquid; eyes as red as the flames of where they came from, teeth and claws as sharp as the rugged edges of the stones that opened to let them run wild. Insatiable appetite, to be only sated by the crimson liquid of human nature; reapers of life force until there was no more men, no more life and no more hope.
Identifying these vile creatures is not an easy feat, as they appear human at a first glance. One must be cautious and aware of the signs, thus being able to tell apart a real being from a demon could be achieved.
Telltale signs of such a devil is the frozen temperature of their skin, gelid, like kissed by death itself. Red eyes are also an indicator, though the iris should often appear pure black when feeding hasn’t been performed in recent days. The only sustenance they seek is human blood, but it is said that they can survive eating from other undead as well. Animal blood nor ordinary food can’t be consumed by them.
The devils are cunning beings, masters of tricksters, experts of luring, kings of predators able to infiltrate our communities and slaughter us from the inside if we don’t exercise caution. Look for the red eyes and their unrest when their feeding hour comes to a close.
As creatures from hell, they are immortal. But it does not mean they can not die. They are bound by fate and evil to live forever, cursed by the Son of the Morning to feast on human sacrifice until the end of times, to find joy in our suffering and to bathe in our blood and that of our brethren. But piercing their heart with a stake will turn them back into the ash and fire they were made from. There is no register of other ways to bring them harm, even after trying with silver, sunlight and the sign of our Lord. Holy water has yet to be tested.
It is known of instances where devils were found laying with humans, but it has not produced offspring of any sort, so we deemed the creature as sterile in the ways of the men. Though, they can reproduce through biting on their victims, but not with the purpose of feeding from their blood, but to inject them with their own through their fangs. The original monster becomes the sire, and it is the only one able to quench the thirst of their neophyte kin. If not tended by the sire, the newborn creature is set to be on a violent carnage until said thirst is sated, their already strong physical capabilities of speed and strength becoming almost god-like.
Their numbers have dwindled with the passing of time, generations of humans proving themselves to be above the evil forces, but do not forget, you who may be reading these lines… Always look for the crimson eyes of the vampire.
Jimin closed the heavy book with a soft thud, her body falling backwards, almost weightless, against the chair she was sitting on. Her hands were shaking, and the cold prickling of fear turned gelid, as if ice needles were puncturing her very bones. Trembling lips let a single sigh out before a pink tongue traced and wetted parched skin.
“A vampire…” The words sounded ridiculous when voiced out loud, but at that moment, alone in the library and bathing in the early sun’s light, it made so much sense to the young nun.
And as any devout catholic, Jimin only had one possible solution in mind, her fear turning to despair and despair making her go towards the only thing she had always been sure of in her entire life.
And so Jimin stood from the chair, placed the ancient book back in the double shelf and she went straight to the chapel, an interminable list of prayers already sitting on top of her tongue and her hammering heart aching for the kind of comfort that only Her God could provide.
The day was, to sister Jimin, like a blurry haze in a cloudy mind where the only clarity was the way the word vampire was printed on her brain. She spent every hour re-reading the lines of that book in her mind, again and again and between prayers while she performed her chores and her chapel duties of the day. To tend to the flowers, to sweep the floors and to receive any devout visit, all of that Jimin did with a frozen smile on her face, thoughts long lost in that world of monsters and demons she was thrown into just the night before.
And before Jimin could even notice it, morning turned to sunset and the sun finally set to let the silver moon emerge, now waning right above, in the middle of a sky empty of clouds, but so full of stars.
To say that Jimin was scared was an understatement. She was so frightened of what she may find perched on her windowsill that, before leaving the chapel, she procured a small bottle of the sanctified water the baptisms were performed with. Her shaking hand gripped the glass bottle of holy water as she made her way through the gardens; and her gaze, the night before wishful and content, now guarded and frantic, eyes looking everywhere at once in search of a glimpse of blonde, a drop of blood.
Her steps sounded heavy, calculated, and her breathing became even more erratic as each one of them took her closer to her chambers. Once in front of the thick oak door, she let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as one last whispered prayer abandoned her lips. And then, she opened the door.
Jimin’s pupils, dilated by fear and anxiety, fell on the window before her feet took the first step into her room, and her body nearly collapsed on itself when in front of her eyes what she found was her windowsill bathed by the moonlight, no blood or blonde woman in sight. The relief was immediate, and she could almost savor its sweetness on her tongue; hot tears taking over as she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.
Moments later, now in her sleeping garments and already under her covers, Jimin gripped the bottle of holy water between her hands, rosary ring and cross pendant tangling around her fingers and her stare fixed on the closed window, where only the silver glow of the waning moon and the shadow of a yesterday’s memory stood.
Jimin blinked slowly, exhaustion creeping over, but still unable to tear her gaze away. And then she realized, that no matter how much time passed, that no matter if that bloodied woman never appeared again before her… she would never know rest at night ever again.