[The End of Osamu Ashikaga]: Salvation

Carmilla sat upon the loveseat across from Hannes, facing Joseph and Irina, who sat hand-in-hand on the floral-patterned sofa in front of them. The surviving Kozlovs were denied the chance to swallow their grief in silence, for the Yakutsk air hummed with the distant mantras of thousands of West End protestors and the counter-cries of police megaphones demanding the crowd to stand down.

The people of the West End defiantly raised their protest signs high into the air, decrying the Yakutsk Lords as liars and Osamu as a divisive butcher masquerading as a king. The sudden deaths of Johan and the Kozlovs sprung forth a tidal wave of confusion and fury that was drowning the entire city. And yet, the source of all of the misery and upheaval sat mere feet away from Carmilla, who was none the wiser.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Hannes. I’m…very sorry for your loss.” Carmilla said. “Johan and I stood on completely opposite ends of the political spectrum, but we would never resort to violence to settle our disputes.”

“Thank you, Carmilla, but that’s a little funny coming from you, considering the Yakutsk Lords support Osamu’s plan to annihilate humanity.” Hannes said. “You people quite literally resort to violence to settle your disputes. It’s no wonder why half the city thinks you had a hand in all of this.”

Joseph and Irina opened their mouths to speak, but no words could fit through their tightened throats. They were drowning in the tension overtaking the room and they had no means or words to stop it. Just as they began to worry, Hannes suddenly let out a gentle chuckle. His eyes widened and his icy glare softened into a warm, almost aimless gaze.

“My apologies.” Hannes said. “What I said just now was extremely distasteful. I’m sorry. I came here to console these two, not start a fight.”

“No, I understand.” Carmilla assured. “Emotions are running high all across the city, but that’s why it’s more important than ever to get to the truth. Joseph, Irina, I came today because I was hoping you’d have some information for me.”

“Honestly, we were hoping you’d have some information for us.” Joseph responded.

“I do.” Carmilla said. “It’s a good thing you’re here, Hannes. This case may very well be linked to your father’s death.”

Hannes leaned back in his seat and gave Carmilla his full, quiet attention.

“First off,” Carmilla began, “we believe we’ve established a motive for what the suspect did. Their entire family was wiped out in a mass shooting that took place in Romania in 1915. That shooting occurred at an Armenian refugee camp after a woman named Anna Dragavei was raped and killed on the premises.”

Joseph and Irina’s faces turned completely white. Carmilla didn’t need to explain much more for them to put the pieces together, and it showed.

“Is it true?” Carmilla asked. “Is it true that the Kozlov family are really just the Dragavei?”

“It was supposed to be a closely guarded secret.” Joseph said. “Peter and his family understood that. They knew if it got out, it would destroy their entire relationship with Johan and his party. There are still members of the Dragavei living in Romania, but several of them fled east to escape Cezar Dragavei’s ultranationalism. They changed their names and lived here.

“We Kozlovs have always felt…guilty for what happened. After that shooting, Cezar no longer had any qualms about using violence against his enemies. We knew his actions would send ripples through our family in due time, but I never imagined it would happen like this. In all honesty, I can’t blame the woman who did this. We’re the ones that took her family first. It only makes sense she would return the favor.”

“Regardless of what happened in the past or who’s right or wrong, what she did was still a serious crime.” Carmilla said. “So, I take it you have no idea how the suspect could’ve found out the connection between the Kozlovs and the Dragavei. The Kozlovs did have a photo album with portraits of the Dragavei inside their home, but it was tucked away in the master bedroom. I don’t know how the suspect could’ve seen it. There must’ve been some other way she found out, but we’re still investigating to see what it was.”

Joseph tucked in his lips as Irina rubbed his back to console him. His eyes wandered the room, reddening and glimmering with a gathering of tears. “Now you see why we buried our history. Look at what hell one name can unleash.”

It was plain to see that the infamy of the Dragavei casted an abyssal pall over the Kozlovs more than a century after the atrocity against the Armenians. No matter what name they camouflaged themselves with, no matter how deep they retreated into the heart of Siberia, the history of Romanian and vampiric nationalism synonymous with the Dragavei followed the Kozlovs like their very own shadow.

That shame and self-disgust served as the bedrock for their alliance with Johan Sommers. His unmoving anti-nationalism and repudiation of the restorationist movement shined like a beacon of hope to the Kozlovs, and with his death, that beacon faded into the ever-encroaching darkness set upon the world by Osamu and Hima.

“I’m sorry.” Joseph said, composing himself. “Please, continue.”

Their self-evident grief made Carmilla hesitant. Part of her told her to leave the discussion there and continue another day. Still, she honored Joseph’s wish and continued on. “As for how these two cases are connected…” Carmilla began, “I was informed that the photo book recovered from Peter’s home contained a group portrait of the founding members of Lăncile de Onix. Among those members was your father, Hannes.”

Hannes’s brows shot up in feigned surprise. “That’s impossible. My father, a member of Lăncile de Onix? That’s about as likely as Lenin being a secret monarchist.”

“Nonetheless, Lord Anastasia is certain that the man depicted in the book is Johan Sommers.” Carmilla said.

“I know which group portrait you’re talking about…” Irina said, holding her hands together.

“Yes, she does,” Joseph added, “because I’m in it too.”

“You were a founding member?” Carmilla asked, taken aback.

“It’s one of the only true regrets I have in my life.” Joseph said. “However, what you’re saying about Johan can’t be true. I know that for a fact.”

“What makes you so certain, Joseph?” Carmilla asked.

“Because there wasn’t anyone named Johan Sommers among the founding members.”

Joseph’s statement hit Carmilla like a tank shell. She expected Joseph to confirm that Johan was a founding member of Lăncile de Onix, a scenario that was plenty controversial on its own. Instead, she was being told that the man in the portrait wasn’t Johan at all.

“You can say that with absolute certainty?” Carmilla asked.

Joseph nodded his head. “Yes. I remember the people who founded Lăncile de Onix alongside Cezar like it was yesterday. There was no Johan Sommers among us. I take it Lord Anastasia must be referring to the light-haired man standing off to the right of Cezar in the portrait. That’s the only person I can imagine anyone confusing for Johan. If that’s the case, Cezar never knew that man as Johan Sommers, and he knew everyone in that room for a long time. That man was Sorin Dragavei, and he was adopted by Cezar after the Second Great Holy War.”

“I don’t understand…” Carmilla gasped, short of breath. “Cezar never knew him as Johan? Not before or after the founding of Lăncile de Onix?”

“Never.” Joseph assured. “I don’t see any reason he would have to change his name around Cezar. The two were close friends for centuries.”

Carmilla stood from her seat, fireworks going off behind her eyes. Her mind was spinning uncontrollably, leading her to only one conclusion. “If what you’re saying is true, it means that the United Pacifist Party was never being led by the real Johan Sommers. It means Sorin impersonated a member of the Old Kingdom’s armed forces and fooled all of us for years. But…why? If he wanted to hide his connection to the Dragaveis, he could’ve chosen any name. Why did he specifically choose to impersonate Johan Sommers?”

“My father…wasn’t who he said he was?” Hannes questioned with a clouded gaze. “So, he kept secrets even from his own son.”

“You never heard him use any other name than Johan Sommers?” Irina asked, her heart breaking for Hannes.

“That name is the only one I ever knew him by.” Hannes said, standing from his chair and pacing towards the window. “If these two tragedies are connected as Lord Carmilla says, then I can only assume they were targeted because of their association with the Dragavei family. In which case, I must ask you to keep that association a secret as you move forward in your investigation, Carmilla.”

“Hannes, that isn’t something I can promise.” Carmilla said.

Hannes casted his gaze downward toward his snakeskin shoes, flashing a grimace that quickly faded. “I had a feeling you’d say that. I suppose it would be more sensical for you people to expose my father for the fraud he was. You could use this to destroy his legitimacy and take down the United Pacifist Party all at once. However, you don’t know if there are more people living in the West End like the suspect that murdered Peter and his family. If Osamu or Hima decide to leak this information, they’d be knowingly putting all of us at risk. Do that, and it’ll be like gasoline on the fires raging in the streets of Yakutsk. People will see your new kingdom as a murderous, tyrannical regime.”

“I doubt Osamu Ashikaga would even care.” Irina cried. “He doesn’t see all life as equal. What are a few more sacrifices to him?”

“Quiet, Irina!” Joseph urged. Irina slapped her hand over her mouth and locked her nervous gaze with Carmilla’s.

Brushing aside the comment, Carmilla let out an exhausted sigh. “Listen, I’m not here to berate you for our differences. If the need arises, I will urge the Yakutsk Lords to protect you all. We never wanted Johan, or rather, Sorin, to die. We don’t want any of you to die, either. Our enemy is and always has been humanity. We cannot allow this tragedy to become the spark of a civil war.”

“If someone out there wants to take revenge on us, I would understand.” Joseph said. “But my wife and Hannes…they don’t deserve to die for the sins of my family. We’re trusting you with our lives, Carmilla. Please…keep us safe.”

Joseph and Irina bowed their heads to Carmilla as though she were a living deity in a godless land. She was their only hope of survival, their only protector to ward off all harm. Hannes’s blonde hair framed his smiling face and phosphorescent eyes of blue in a most flattering way, giving him all the debonair charisma of young prince. He looked less like a son in mourning and more like a young man ready to brave the next big chapter in his life. His aura of charm and innocence were impossible to say no to. As such, Carmilla assured them she could make no guarantees, only a concerted effort to protect them.

Carmilla visited Joseph and Irina to find answers, but ultimately walked out of their home with even more questions and a burdensome responsibility on her shoulders. As the day came to an end, Carmilla summoned the Yakutsk Lords back to Room 1313 to discuss everything they had gathered thus far. Even the most minute details had to be brought forward.

After the facts were established and thoroughly discussed, it was time to make a decision on what to do with the information regarding the Kozlovs. Carmilla leaned back in her chair with her shoulders slumped and her eyes half-closed.

“Osamu, Hima, what’s your call on the matter?” Carmilla asked. “Keep in mind, revealing what we know about the Dragavei family will put Hannes and the other Kozlovs at risk.”

“So be it, then.” Osamu said, without hesitation. “I’m not giving up this opportunity to dismantle the United Pacifist Party. That said, if anything were to happen to Hannes or the Kozlovs, it would only reflect badly on us. We’ll make the information public, but before we do so, I want those three moved to secure locations. Get them out of the West End and away from anyone that would do them harm once the info comes to light.”

“Agreed.” Hima added. “Let’s ask the SSK if they have any safe houses we can use. If that’s not possible, we might just have to shelter them here in the hotel.”

“Very well, then.” Carmilla said. “I’ll get started on that first thing tomorrow.”

Hima nodded before standing from her chair. “Meeting dismissed. It’s been a long day. Get some rest, all of you.”

The Yakutsk Lords all rose from their seats, stretching their backs and giving in to their urges to yawn. While the other lords filed out of the room and headed off to bed, Osamu, Hima, and Taeko remained seated at the table.

“So he wasn’t even Johan Sommers, after all.” Hima scoffed. “What a farce.”

“I would’ve kept the information a secret, Osamu.” Taeko said. “We’re putting these people in tremendous risk. It’ll be a gamble just trying to keep them safe.”

“I know.” Osamu responded. “But gambling is what we do best, isn’t it? The Kozlovs were murdered even without the public knowing about the Dragavei family. Yura was an elderly woman who hardly ever ventured outside her own neighborhood. I doubt she managed to find out such a damning secret on her own. Someone out there has this info. Hannes and the others would still be in danger even if we kept it all a secret. It’s better to have them under lock and key here than leaving them to fend for themselves.”

“I just hope this gamble pays off, then.” Taeko sighed, rising from her chair and leaving the room.

With the room all to themselves, Hima leaned in towards Osamu. She slithered her left hand up his back and rested her head on his shoulder. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but watching the ever-shifting, dazzling glow of the aurora borealis above Yakutsk filled her heart with joy.

“We should rest too, Osamu.”

Though there was still much to do and many questions he needed answered, Osamu decided to let it all go for now. He didn’t realize how much he was tensing his shoulders until the moment he exhaled and relaxed his muscles. He’d spent the whole day on edge, just like Minavere itself.

Though the lights in the hotel were dimming down, the rage flowing through the streets of the West End and the fiery conflagration of nationalism in the East End refused to die down. The very air vibrated with the roars of Minavere’s people, more than half of them fighting for their newborn nation, and the other fighting to tear it down before Osamu’s genocide of humanity neared completion.

The lights in Joseph and Irina’s home also dimmed as Hannes walked towards their front door to retrieve his shoes and retire home for the night. He had spent the whole day there after Carmilla left. Everyone exchanged comical stories of their relatives, their fondest memories of them, and their sorrow at this horrific turn of events. After a full day of letting it all out, the Kozlovs felt they could at least try and sleep through the night.

“Thank you for today, Hannes.” Joseph said, walking him to the front door. “Today was far more bearable because of you.”

“Truly.” Irina added. “If you need anything, please be sure to call us.”

“You’re far too kind.” Hannes said. “I should be the one offering help to you.”

“Even in times like this, it’s best to look after the young.” Joseph said. “Peter wouldn’t have wanted us to get selfish.”

A slight smile formed on Hannes’s face as he wrapped his maroon scarf around his milky neck. “Of course. You’re some of the most selfless families I know. That’s what sets you apart from the Dragavei. And yet…all of that selflessness will amount to nothing.”

“What…what do you mean, Hannes?” Irina questioned, puzzled.

Hannes looked right into Irina’s eyes with a sorrowful pall darkening his face. “Our lives are forfeit. It’s within the regime’s best interest to tell the public about the Dragavei connection. I have no doubt in my mind that Osamu Ashikaga has already put out the order to do so. If that’s the case, they’ll try their best to protect us, but we’ll be living the rest of our lives in danger of being murdered by both the West and East ends.

“Their announcement will make it so that the only safe haven we have in this world becomes our prison, all to satisfy Osamu’s wish to destroy the world. That is what awaits us in the morning, a life no better than bondage.”

“…Even so,” Joseph began, “isn’t better to at stay alive, to live alongside your loved ones? I know things seem utterly hopeless, but if we can find even the slightest solace in being together, then maybe all of the suffering will be worth it.”

“So you wish to stay alive for the sake of staying alive.” Hannes said, turning his piercing glare towards Joseph. “Tell me then, Joseph, what is there to live for? What’s going to get you and your wife out of bed in the morning? Will it be the constant death threats? Having to move houses every two weeks? Never being able to go outside in your own city? Knowing that any children you have will live the same life of imprisonment as you? What is life if there’s no freedom? Is it really life at all? Or is it simply servitude?

“The West End will punish you because of your lineage. No matter how good your character, you will always be shackled by the Dragavei name. The East End will punish you as an enemy to the Dragavei cause. They’ll see you as nothing more than traitors to the spirit of vampiric nationalism. You won’t be able to leave a city that’s hostile towards you, and you’ll owe your lives to the very man responsible for plunging the world into a living hell and murdering billions of innocent people. Even if your own countrymen don’t kill you, can you be sure that your conscience won’t finish the job? Will you be able to live with the world’s blood on your hands?”

Realizing the enormity of the changes he and Irina would face tomorrow, Joseph’s tongue practically turned to stone. He wore a dreadful, thousand-yard stare on his face as he envisioned what his life was going to look like starting tomorrow. He would his Irina, but they’d only be able to life a life of animalistic imprisonment. They’d always be stuck in a box with four walls, always peeking from their closed curtains into a hostile, outside world.

“What else are we supposed to do?” Irina asked, her voice breaking. “We have nothing left.”

“Seek freedom, above all things.” Hannes answered. “Freedom from the burden of your heritage. Freedom from the dogma poisoning this country. Freedom from your very existence as vampires. It’s the same freedom my father wanted for all of us. If our existence is guaranteed to be one of suffering, why continue the charade? Judged by your countrymen for being a Dragavei, judged by the world for being of the same race as the late Dracula…no matter what happens, our lives are defined by suffering. No matter how kind our hearts or how pure our souls, we will forever be branded by our own history. So…seek freedom, for the most catastrophic horror in this world… is being born into it.”

Hannes put on his shoes and tightened the scarf around his neck. He bowed his head to Joseph and Irina one final time before opening the door and letting himself out, leaving them standing at the entrance in complete, silent shock.The freedom Joseph envisioned, planted in his head by Hannes mere seconds ago, was enough to bring him to his knees.

It was clear to Joseph and Irina now that there was only one true road to freedom; the end of existence. The cessation of vampiric existence would not only free them from their burdens, but it would save the world from the threat their lives posed to humanity. Had vampire kind been eliminated years ago, Osamu would’ve had no allies and no nation to support his eradication of humanity. The specter of Dracula’s nationalism would’ve never risen from its resting place in the pages of history, and each vampire alive wouldn’t have to grapple with the guilt of becoming accessories to global genocide.

The only way to be free from the undying curse of Dracula’s legacy, from Osamu’s resurrection of the monarchy, and from humanity’s retribution was to end vampiric existence altogether. Death was the only way to save the living and those yet to be born. To live a good life was a blessing. To have never lived at all was salvation.