He looked at his image reflected in the mirror and shifted his head slightly to the side. A slight knowing smile spread across his lips. 

He looked great, as always. 

This time, too, he was more than certain that he would be able to close the deal. The young countess had already shown enough interest to convince him that his participation in that stupid ball organised by her father would only increase his network of knowledge and success. The gem he had made her was one of the best he had made recently, the lady would have been thrilled.

 This would have intrigued the other participants at the ball. And he, thanks to his flattery skills, would only make them all fall into his trap. 

Disagreeable perhaps to think that the women of the aristocracy would go to such lengths to grab the best dresses on the market, but even more disgraceful was how easily they were flattered by anyone. 

Not that he could be compared to any Don Juan, far from it. 

His only interest was to conclude as many interesting deals as possible in as little time as possible, and if flattering young aristocrats guaranteed him success, then he was more than willing to use his weapons of seduction. Of course, without ever descending into the inappropriate and without ever going so far as to promise things he would never give. 

He had much more to think about than running after a woman's senseless whims. 

Most nobles knew no better, but he was a businessman well-disposed to take advantage of the weaknesses of the fair sex. Even the rich fathers of the damsels in question were often inclined to indulge the desires of their daughters and wives. And all this only favoured him. 

By now he had been working in the fashion world for some years and had made a name for himself through his analytical skills. He had simply observed the world around him to grasp every detail that was useful for his profit, giving importance to every single element was crucial.

 The most insignificant minutiae could lead to the most baffling discoveries. He had learned to his cost that the world hides much more than it shows to those who are content to remain on the surface. Who are content or pretend. 

Because sometimes pretending not to see, not to be part of something far more sinister is more comfortable. In his case, it could not be said that he had had the choice of which of the two paths to take, he had been forcibly brought into conflict with reality. 

So, he too had ended up becoming a strange creature, but he had managed to gain favour with the people. Turning his gaze back to his reflection in the mirror, he recalled one of the various reasons why he had turned to women's fashion rather than men's. It offered many more perspectives. 

It was much easier to create different, innovative dress designs that could meet the needs of the customer while making the most of his creativity. He still worked on men's clothes, but he had always felt that women's offered more opportunities. It had cost him time and effort to reach the upper echelons of society, but through hard work and the right perseverance, he had managed to make his plan work to perfection and could now boast of a more than decent life, a life he many years before would not even have believed he could have wished for. 

The last point to consider was how easily women could fall victim to the creatures he hunted. He could say this because he had often hunted monsters who chose their victims with special care, creating in them a false perception of reality. 

They made them feel beautiful, loved and desired to the point that they were willing to indulge any mental turmoil of their lover and captor, but this is often what happens when one comes into contact with an inhuman beauty that makes one lose all contact with reality. 

It was the intoxicating beauty of death knocking at your door, slowly leading you into the abyss. And once inside, there was no way out. 

He understood those feelings well. Often when he came into contact with the female version of those monsters he was also seduced, but he knew. 

He knew what they were. What they did. What they fed on. Creatures without scruples and feelings that only deserved to be extinguished from the face of the earth. He saw the rot behind the ethereal beauty those creatures of the night brought with them. 

Even in the cases of vampires who were less accustomed to life in society and only hunted in godforsaken places, there was always this unbearable aura of beauty. To touch that beauty was to die of it. 

He set out to eliminate as many of them as he could. He had studied them for years, risking his life more than once, that life of his that he had changed completely to follow this purpose. 

He needed a job that would allow him to earn money and reconcile his work as a vampire hunter. He had to admit that the decision to enter the world of fashion and tailoring had been more of a gamble dictated by the urgency to move quickly rather than a conscious choice. On the other hand, after the world of the supernatural and popular beliefs had entered his existence by force, he would no longer have been able to continue with his initial life project. And so, almost by chance, he had found himself taking his first steps in his new activity. 

At the same time, he had begun to gather as much information as possible about those monsters of the night. He had become more and more vigilant. More and more careful in identifying and deciphering those details that unmistakably qualified a vampire. 

But his goal seemed almost unattainable at first. How could he ever kill a creature destined to live for eternity? A creature that had become a perfect killing machine? How could a mere human cope with that? It seemed truly impossible, yet slowly he had managed to find possible solutions and could now boast the title of vampire hunter. 

Boast. 

Of course, he didn't go around bragging about that, he hadn't spent years creating a life for himself as a wealthy bachelor creator of fabric for nothing. 

He needed a solid cover and hardly anyone knew what his real activities were. 

For if, on the one hand, the existence of a vampire hunter had been confirmed, this would have alerted the vampires, but to the point of better controlling their moves by preventing him from flushing them out and completing his task. Instead, he could rely to a certain extent on the effect of surprise. 

The less those monsters knew that there was someone capable of counteracting them, the easier it would be for him to fulfil the promise he had made to himself so many years before.

 Although by now he was certain that in the vampire world there were rumours about him. Perhaps more than a few rumours. 

That was why caution and care always guided him. 

One mistake could have easily led him to his death. 

And even then, his presence in this town and his agreeing to attend a stupid ball were not accidental. 

He rarely moved without a well-founded reason. 

And even in that town there was something that had caught his attention. Some very peculiar stories had reached his ears. Some disappearances and deaths. As well as the main element indicating the probable presence of immortal creatures. 

Namely the traces left by canines on the victim's body. 

He had to admit that he was always very surprised when he heard of cases where these scars were clearly visible. Most vampires knew better than to leave obvious traces of their passage. Their peace of mind depended on it. 

Humans were no match for them, but his case already showed that, with proper preparation, it was possible to kill an already dead creature. 

Exposing themselves too much to them would undoubtedly have been a risk they preferred to avoid. Acting undisturbed in the shadows was their way of life. He believed that obvious signs of their passing were due to negligence or the fury of the moment. 

He had seen with his own eyes what a vampire assailed by thirst was capable of. 

It lost all reason and became uncontrollable. 

Its human façade fell away completely to make way for the killer. 

Their eyes became the colour of blood. 

It was a chilling sight. 

Yet on a couple of occasions, he had managed to use this element to his advantage. For when a vampire was overcome by thirst, it seemed to lose the use of reason completely. 

Josef thought that was why the story of the strange scars had reached his ears. 

A vampire must have lost control and then forgotten to clean up the scene. 

Three months ago, he had heard about the young peasant girl found dead in the woods. 

No one had been able to figure out what the cause of death might have been, as the only obvious sign they bore were those two holes in their necks, which had caused a stir and fear among the other local peasants, but more an unhealthy curiosity among the circles of the bourgeoisie and petty aristocracy there, the latter clearly being more interested in creating the most absurd stories to explain what had happened. 

As far as he could perceive, it seemed that no one had come close to the reality of the facts.

 Reality that even he did not know anyway. 

He couldn't be one hundred per cent certain that it was a vampire. 

Several times he had been active in his research only to be sadly disappointed to find that many dark stories were generated by people's sick minds and had nothing to do with the supernatural.

 But other rumours had reached him. 

And this had convinced him that the place would earn a visit. 

That was why he had worked hard to get commissions there. 

In Gibergan. 

Welcome to my new story, anyone is welcome to share their thoughts! Criticism is also welcome, I just ask you not to be rude! 

The themes dealt with in the story will not be light, but I will put trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapter when there are particularly tough scenes.

At the beginning of the chapter you'll find a drawing of the male protagonist, our Josef Jäger 💖

The plan is to publish a new chapter every week, on Thursday. 

See you next week 💜

06/10/2022