“Looking for some action?” the female knight asked, confused.
What was there to be “action-ready” for in a place like this?
*Action, huh?*
Duke glanced at her.
He had a pretty good idea what Victor was up to—probably found some woman to screw.
Back during the Battle of Southern Vietnam, Victor had killed his superior officer in a rage just because he was stopped from forcibly taking a woman.
The result?
He’d been shot at for ten straight hours.
*Damn, how many bullets did they waste?
What a fucking waste!*
Seeing that Logan hadn’t gone to stop him, it was likely a consensual encounter.
“Is that leg of lamb really so good?”
Duke didn’t want to dwell on the topic any longer.
His mind kept drifting back to the plot where Steve took the female knight’s first blood, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it.
He decided to change the subject.
“It’s not prepared well. The gamey smell is overwhelming!” Logan said, continuing to tear into the leg of lamb.
“Then why are you still eating it?”
“It’s a gesture from the townspeople,” Logan replied.
“If we don’t eat it, they’ll feel bad.”
“Do you know this was the last sheep in town?” Bell asked.
Because of the German occupation, there were almost no living creatures left in the town besides the people.
The sheep, chickens, and pigs had all been slaughtered.
The only food left was a few potatoes, carrots, and coarse bread made from barley and rye.
They couldn’t even afford milk.
All the cows had been killed for meat, and the only milk-producing sheep was… now on the grill.
“Oh, and there are still a few horses. If they weren’t needed for hauling, the German troops would have slaughtered them long ago.”
Duke had seen it with his own eyes—the townspeople drooling as they watched Logan and Victor tear into the meat, their eyes filled with reluctance.
“I know!”
“So you’re still going to eat it?”
The townspeople hadn’t slaughtered the animal themselves; Logan and his men had demanded it.
“What else was I supposed to do? The Town Chief took my hand and insisted on giving me ‘payment.’ If I’d refused, he would have felt even worse. This town is too poor—the German troops have stripped it bare, leaving nothing behind except that sheep… Were we supposed to kill the horses instead?” Logan shook his head.
*Sheep, huh?
They’re just for eating anyway.* The wool was gone, the milk was gone, so all that was left was the meat.
“Maybe you’re right,” Duke sighed.
“This is the cultural difference between East and West. You Easterners are just hypocrites.”
“Have you even been to the East? That’s not hypocrisy, that’s humility,” Duke replied with a wry smile and a shake of his head.
“No, but I’ve met plenty of Easterners.”
“Aren’t Westerners even more hypocritical?”
Logan paused, then nodded.
“You’re not wrong! Take America, for example. Washington D.C. is filthier than the slums. The Mafia in Philly controls the whole city—even the cops and the army there have to answer to them. Americans… hah, they wear masks of hypocrisy every single day. It’s just terrible.”
Diana frowned.
“Isn’t that hell?”
“Worse than hell!” Logan replied.
Duke glanced at Logan, who had already finished gnawing on the leg of lamb.
“You’re a century-old relic,” Duke said.
“Why don’t you share some… essential advice with Diana?”
Diana’s interest was instantly piqued.
After leaving Paradise Island, she had lost her way home.
Once this war ended, she was destined to remain in the human world, and she had absolutely no experience in such matters.
Logan first glanced at Diana, then at Duke, and curled his lip with a smirk.
“If you’re the long-lived type… you’ll need to change your place of residence frequently. At least every twenty years, though I’d suggest every ten. Because your ageless face is bound to draw attention.”
Duke nodded.
He understood this well.
Changing locations was actually easy.
Forging identities in this era was far simpler than in the future because, without the internet, you were nearly impossible to track.
Logan, for instance, had fled from Canada to the United States, then to Western Europe, switching residences countless times.
“Also,” Duke continued, “try to stick with our own kind as much as possible. Minimize your time spent with humans. If you can’t avoid them, remember this when you do: never give them your true heart. You must maintain a proper distance.”
Diana frowned.
“Why is that?”
“There’s a saying: ‘Those of a different race must have different hearts,'” Duke explained.
“Hmm, that’s not wrong,” Logan added with a nod.
“Humans are exclusionary toward outsiders. There are even organizations that enjoy hunting our kind for their own amusement. So, when you’re around humans, don’t reveal your ‘special’ traits. Even in a desperate situation, your first priority must be your own safety.”
“Exactly!”
Diana, however, looked completely bewildered.
“The Farmer and the Snake? What is that?”
“You don’t know it?” Duke asked, his curiosity piqued.
*Well, that makes sense,* he thought.
*If Diana had read this story, she wouldn’t be so naive as to believe all humans are kind.*
“It’s a story from *Aesop’s Fables*,” he explained.
“Legend has it that Aesop was a freed Greek slave in the sixth century BC who wrote this collection of fables. This particular one is about a farmer who rescues a frozen snake, only to be bitten to death by the very creature he saved.”
“How could that happen?” Diana frowned, unable to accept such a thing.
She wasn’t foolish; she quickly grasped the allegory’s meaning.
Duke patted her shoulder.
“Humans are a mixture of kindness and malice, half light and half darkness. You can never be sure if someone is good or bad, so when you help others, you must always leave yourself some room for retreat.”
“One last warning,” he added.
“If you’re looking for a partner, it’s best to find someone of your own kind. Never get involved with a mortal—that’s a lesson I learned the hard way. I once loved a woman, and we were together for twenty years. She aged while I remained unchanged, and my wounds healed instantly. In the end, she betrayed my secret to a group of people, and as a result…”
Diana’s heart skipped a beat.
“They hunted you?”
“Right here,” Logan said, pointing to his shoulder.
“There’s nothing there,” Duke noted, curious.
“That’s where her shotgun hit me. I’ve always wanted to leave a mark there as a reminder, but…” Logan shrugged helplessly.
Duke patted his shoulder.
He understood.
Logan’s powerful healing factor meant no scar could ever remain, and even tattoos were difficult to keep.
“Back then, we were desperate for money. She sold me out for it.” Though many years had passed, pain still flickered in Logan’s eyes.
Diana found it hard to imagine.
How could a partner of twenty years betray her husband for money?
“Alright, I need to find a place to sleep.” Logan stood up with a smile.
As he turned away, he discreetly gave Duke a thumbs-up.
Duke could only manage a wry smile.
He’d been caught.
*Old ginger is truly the spiciest,* he thought.
(End of Chapter)