The void does not answer. It was unclear if it ever could. I stood there, waiting for the ripple I sent out to stretch into the endless void and for the swelling silence to return.
Splash. A small ripple came from the opposite side.
At times, moments of hesitation come. But because I cannot stop, I move forward.
My finger pressed the slot. Elegant, sharp handwriting. The forceful writing heralded a new beginning.
I return to my world. Two drops of ink splattered. My vision brightened.
＊ ＊ ＊
At that moment, I heard a voice calling me.
“Hey, miss.”
Owen Cassfire was waving a hand in front of my eyes, slightly raising one of his red eyebrows.
I blinked. Only then did my consciousness clear. Had I been spacing out? Owen rubbed his forehead and shrugged.
“Why are you out of it? If you space out here, you’ll get dragged away.”
“Oh, I was just thinking for a moment….”
Facing a large cave, corpses, and a house where bizarre creatures waited, I swallowed hard.
Herschel Hopkins would surely come if I went in. Owen had received the dahlia. If he was the next target, it would know where to find him no matter where he went. But since he came here voluntarily, and brought me along, how convenient. It was a perfect opportunity to eliminate two people chasing this case simultaneously.
“By the way, Owen…”
Owen looked back at me. I smiled awkwardly.
“Didn’t Professor Herschel seem strange to you?”
“Herschel? All of a sudden?”
“Well, it’s nothing serious, but… he wasn’t wearing his ring. I’ve never seen him take it off before.”
He stroked his chin in thought for a moment.
“He took off his ring?”
“Yes, his wedding ring.”
“That’s odd. He’s not the type to abandon sentimentality now.”
Herschel Hopkins? Owen muttered again, looking incredulous.
“That’s impossible. He wouldn’t give up that ring even if his finger was cut off. You wouldn’t know how much he loved his wife. The old man can’t throw away anything related to her. He’d probably ask to be buried with it.”
I blinked a few times. Neither Liam nor Herschel had ever told me about Herschel’s wife. So, I had no way of knowing what happened to him. Herschel Hopkins would never talk about his personal life to me.
“His wife…,” I began.
“She’s deceased.”
It was a dry response. Startled, I saw Owen’s lips twitch into a bitter smile.
“It was murder. She was attacked while Herschel was away. It was their wedding anniversary. Since then, he lived like a madman, until Arthur and Liam helped him pull himself together. But he still hasn’t forgotten her. That’s just who he is. Have you been to Herschel’s house?”
I hesitated before nodding.
“Mrs. Hopkins loved the garden. Every year, he planted new flowers for her to see. When the window opened, the flowers would be in full bloom. Sometimes, if a flower bloomed in winter, he would gift her one.”
So, that well-maintained garden had such a meaning. Knowing the backstory made me feel a bit guilty. I felt like I had intruded into Herschel’s personal life.
“People around us always meet such ends,” Owen said quietly, hands in his pockets, nudging the gate open with his foot. The door swung open easily.
“Because we do dangerous work, we have many enemies. That’s why we avoid forming important relationships. Or if we do, we live our whole lives hiding our identities, but it rarely ends well.”
The vine wrapped around Owen Cassfire’s fingers. The man’s face, looking to be in his mid-to-late thirties, seemed somehow bitter. Golden light softly illuminated the darkness. His eyes were still fixed on the vine.
“We always end up losing our loved ones,” he said. And it seemed like a curse placed upon people like us, Owen Cassfire calmly recited.
I wondered if that applied to Liam and me as well. For a moment, I thought about it.
Owen, who had mumbled words that might or might not have been about us, started walking ahead. His steps were quick but I could follow. After all, the destination was clear, and I knew where we needed to go.
I found the path to the fireplace without difficulty. Owen Cassfire held out his hand to me. I murmured to myself, hoping that what was about to happen would pass us by.
I saw countless stairs. Then, a familiar, glowing picture came into view. Once the shock subsided, I could look around. If it weren’t for the corpses, I might have found the scene majestic. It was almost overwhelming.
“William will be different.”
I heard a strange statement.
“Pardon?”
I couldn’t see Owen Cassfire’s face as he was walking ahead, but I had just heard words that would stay with me for a long time.
“……You and William will be different.”
Wow. Damn. Quickly reverting to his usual cheeky self, he pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket, twirled it around, and held it in his mouth. Why chalk? On closer inspection, it had transformed into a cigarette. Camouflage. The man winked, chewing the unlit cigarette.
“Hey, Sir Owen.”
“Just call me Owen.”
“Is there a way not to get hurt if you fall from here? Like a falling technique?”
Owen Cassfire looked back at me, puzzled.
“There is, but why?”
“Because I need to use it now.”
And I kicked him with all the gratitude I could muster.
“Ahhhhhhh!”
Owen flew out. At the same time, a great force swept through where he had just been. If I had been a second late, I would have been caught too.
A bright light flashed once. Then I heard a voice shouting loudly. Judging by his loud voice, Owen must have landed safely on the ground.
Behind me, I heard laughter.
[This is an interesting trick.]
It was a man’s voice. It wasn’t Herschel’s. There was something about his voice that evoked the deepest, most primal fear in a human being. I felt like my neck was stuck in place.
“Ah…”
Ignoring my instinct to scream, I turned my head. And then I finally saw it.
It was a dark-skinned man. Herschel Hopkins lay sprawled like a puppet with its strings cut, and the man standing over his body looked down at me with a fierce, blasphemous smile.
He was very tall and extremely thin. His curly black hair seemed to float even without wind. If night could be personified, it would look like him. He was terrifyingly beautiful, but I felt that falling for his appearance would be a mistake. All shadows seemed to obey him.
Resisting the urge to kneel, I took a step back.
“Miss!”
Owen shouted from below.
“Don’t look at it! You must not look at it!”
But his words didn’t reach me.
The man was wearing a black robe that seemed to ripple as if alive. All my senses were forcibly drawn to him. My thoughts, my sight, my hearing—all were stolen. He felt like a ruler, and his attitude naturally exuded that aura. Shadows gathered to form a crown of horns behind his head.
I heard a scream. It sounded deeper than hell itself, a scream from chaos, like that of Tartarus.
[You….]
Yellow, beast-like eyes fixed on me. Don’t look, don’t look, I knew that, but my body wouldn’t obey. The king bared his teeth in a grin.
[You are an amusing child. Have you brought me a new toy?]
His mouth was full of black blood. He would seize me, whisper to me, and throw me into eternal darkness!
[Poor thing. You don’t even know what you’re doing. You don’t know if what you’ve been given is a blessing or a curse.]
His face suddenly drew closer. Black blood dripped onto my face. A shiver ran through me. It felt like ants were crawling in my veins.
I wanted to scream. But it wouldn’t be proper to show fear to a king. The shouts of the shadows around me deafened my ears.
‘Kneel! Kneel! Worship him and obey!’
The king spoke.
[Did you want to hide from my sight with such a paltry trick?]