Chapter 14
Episode 14
Doyoung turned to the next page of the letter.
<But Gamal didn't share my feelings. What I expected from her wasn't physical love either. I couldn't dare expect such things.>
Reading that passage didn't suppress the jealousy creeping up through his veins.
<We respected and revered each other like Dante and Beatrice—as teacher and disciple. Watching countless sunrises and moonsets, we shared everything about ourselves. I felt I'd glimpsed into the depths of Gamal's soul. No one had ever peered so deeply into mine as she did.>
<Gamal called herself a vampire. But I thought perhaps she wasn't human nor monster, but something like a nature spirit. A manifestation to teach me my true desires.>
The letter described Johannes' experiences on this island, but none held particular importance to Doyoung.
Rustle.
He lowered the letter. As he gazed at the sea, a gentle breeze tousled his hair.
In the end, he was just another Johannes.
Even if he died trapped on this deserted island, Gamal would simply await the next man. Meeting, parting, meeting again—the cycle mirrored human life, except for some it spanned an entire lifetime.
Doyoung had no intention of being chained to that rhythm.
He suddenly realized how much time had passed and frowned.
"Why isn't she coming?"
At that moment—
A wild boar erupted from the bushes. Doyoung instinctively grabbed at his empty waist holster.
Thud. The boar collapsed sideways, already dead.
Gamal emerged behind it, smiling like a puppy greeting its owner.
"Captain!"
Doyoung stared dumbfounded.
"What..."
"You said you wanted meat."
He blankly observed her expression—eager for praise like a loyal hound.
In Doyoung's childhood, a prickly cat lived in his neighborhood. Though aloof with others, it inexplicably favored him. One day it began bringing him mice, birds, and lizards.
The owner explained this was its love language—"I prepared this for you" with treasures by its standards.
Apparently this female vampire liked him too.
While women favoring him wasn't unusual, the problem lay in this admirer being a vampire holding him half-captive. Moreover, Doyoung doubted her sincerity.
Having lived alone so long, she'd likely developed instinctive attraction to the first man she'd met in ages—a decent-looking, healthy young male. It could've been William or John instead; any similar candidate would've sufficed.
"Captain."
Gamal appeared from behind a tree, long hair flowing beneath her handwoven straw hat. She looked fresh enough for an electrolyte drink commercial.
"I'm going to pick flowers."
Doyoung set down his book.
"I'll come."
"Together? But your leg—"
"With such sturdy splints, why worry?" He extended his hand impatiently. After hesitation, she helped him up.
"They're far away."
"Being cooped up here makes me feel domesticated. Let's go farther."
Leaning on her, Doyoung walked.
His leg hardly hurt now. His robust constitution and ample rest had accelerated healing beyond expectations. Though already mobile, he remained uncertain about revealing this to Gamal.
"Doesn't it hurt?"
"It's fine."
Her demeanor showed no harmful intent. If not mere mood, this posed a problem—hence his continued pretense.
As they walked, sweat soaked Doyoung's shirtback despite his feigned limp.
"Should we rest?"
"Yeah."
Gamal helped him sit on a lakeside rock. From her crossbody bag, she produced a wooden bowl and offered water.
"Here."
"Thanks."
When he noticed her touched expression, he asked:
"Why?"
"Nothing." She turned away shyly.
What now?
Doyoung failed to connect her reaction to his casual gratitude, simply deeming her peculiar.
The cliff above them arched like a giant's fistprint, forming a natural roof. Cool air swirled in their shaded spot as lakewater vanished into dark depths below. Birds soared across crystalline skies.
Observing Gamal crouched by the shore, Doyoung understood—her timeless purity wasn't miraculous. Though personality and long dormancy contributed, this primordial island's unspoiled nature truly preserved her.
Sensing his gaze, she turned. Sunlight glittered on her translucent crimson eyes as she met his stare.
"Ready?"
"Let's go."
His hand naturally settled on her shoulder.
When she looked up, flowers seemed to bloom in her irises. Had she gazed thus at all men who came here?
No—his instincts knew otherwise.
Flap.
A bird's wings broke the spell. As Doyoung watched it disappear, Gamal abruptly urged:
"Let's go."
He noted her diverted attention but stayed silent. Later, when she offered help ascending a steep slope, their joined hands revealed a new world—an overwhelming sea of crimson blossoms stretching beyond sight.
"Were these always here?"
"No."
"I found them higher up. Transplanted them."
"You planted all this?"
"Didn't have enough time?"
"You've learned sarcasm?"
Ignoring this, Doyoung surveyed the field.
"How long?"
"Since arriving. Needed food. Thought they'd die when I slept—they usually grow in cold regions."
Yet the flowers thrived, adapting to new soil.
"Beautiful. Strangely so."
The blood-red waves should've been ominous, yet sunlight transformed them into rippling silk. They mirrored Gamal's eyes—inherently perilous, yet deceptively serene.
"Yeah. Beautiful."
She smiled at her creation.
Doyoung imagined her gardening through centuries—alone on this untouched island, straw hat askew. The image evoked both pity and affection.
Suddenly his palm cupped her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered shut.
Their lips met.
He knew he'd regret this.
Their future was impossible—not just due to his inevitable departure, but her vampiric immortality against his human mortality. Though he'd never considered loving a vampire, their lifespan disparity felt abstract until now.
Yet he understood why others chose this path. Nothing ever felt more right than this moment.
They lingered, watching scarlet tides sway. The view never tired—a masterpiece nurtured through Gamal's devotion.
"Shall we go?"
At his question, she nodded and helped him up. Leaning closer than necessary, he noticed her faint blush.
Retracing their path, Doyoung thirstily requested water. When their fumbling hands dropped the canteen, he chuckled at her scrambling retrieval—then froze.
A footprint.
Pressed deep into dried mud—large, bare, and male.
"Captain?"
Gamal called as he casually obscured the print with his foot.
"Let's go."
He walked on.
