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Hayato had no habit of being hugged from behind, especially not by a male. He reached back and flung a dark figure forward.
The dark figure crashed into a tree ahead.
A broken branch as thick as a bowl pierced the dark figure's chest, pinning him to it like a poster.
A normal person should have coughed up blood, tilted their head, and died by now. But not only was the dark figure alive, his face twisted viciously as he tried to pull himself free.
The sight made Hayato's teeth ache.
But he actually managed to pull himself out and fell to the ground with a thud.
His chest was bleeding, but the blood was darker and thicker than a normal person's, so it flowed slowly and seemed to be clotting. It looked somewhat like strawberry pudding with too much coloring, giving off a rotten, fishy stench.
"So this is a vampire?"
The wounded vampire leaned against the trunk, his face deathly pale. Hayato did not know whether it was from blood loss or whether all vampires had that complexion. After all, they were creatures that could not stand sunlight.
His eyes were crimson, and two long fangs protruded from his mouth.
Hayato greatly disliked the way he looked at him. In the vampire's eyes, Hayato was nothing more than a usable blood bag.
The creature before him could no longer be called human. It was merely humanoid, and it fed on humans—humanity's natural enemy.
The vampire grinned savagely. "You're dead, mutant. Heh heh, getting involved in this means making enemies of every vampire."
"Oh, I'm so scared." Hayato spoke unconcernedly. "Since you've already let it slip, let me ask you something while I'm at it. What exactly is this matter you're talking about?"
The vampire froze. "You're