“Sssssuusssshhhh,”

  With a strong wind that started moments ago, the bushes rustled strongly as if they were fighting for their life against a vicious enemy.

  Birds flew away from their nests, leaving their eggs, clearly flying away from something.

  A dozen recently healed bodies lay on the ground, each unaware of what had happened, wandering in their dreams.

  In the midst of all that stood Arttu, sitting on the stump left behind by Reid and Pest’s battle.

  The howling wind brought cold to the area. Even Arttu, who was huddled to keep warm, felt the cold seep into his skin.

  “It is too cold.”

  The cold was not freezing in the sense of temperature; it had a different feeling.

  A normal cold would transfer heat from your body, making you feel colder overall. On a chilly day, mostly in winter, the heat from your own body would go out from exhaling, giving off a vapor that’s visible to the eyes.

  Arttu knew that because Aquilonis was located in the middle-north of Calanoid, where all four seasons are experienced, unlike Varmkol, where people experience only winter.

  He opened his mouth to let go of the breath that was held inside his chest.

  “Huuuuuu”

  No vapor drew the air.

  He then went to check in on the people who were lying on the ground—unconscious.

  He knelt down toward a young man and touched his wrist.

  It was…

  …warm.

  Arttu’s eyes widened as he delved into deeper confusion.

  “Why am I cold?”

  He found a coat on the ground. A red fur coat with neatly stitched lines, clearly from someone rich or stolen from someone rich. He only saw those kinds of stitches on the castle and nowhere else.

  He grabbed the coat and put it on to warm himself. The coat covered twice his frame. His arms felt like they were tiny noodles in a big bowl of ramen.

  At first, the coat felt like a slow warm-up.

  After some time, he realized that it was all inside his head. The coat was not warming him up; instead, it was making him sweat.

  Arttu started panicking.

  “How can I feel cold and hot at the same time?”

  He felt pure fear, not from simply feeling cold and hot at the same time, but from the contradiction of those notions.

  Arttu was always like this; he wouldn’t see nightmares as other kids did—no monsters, no deaths, no massacres.

  A geometric world of different figures, all contradicting their own humane definitions.

  A triangle with twenty-seven sides.

  A cube with uneven faces.

  A space of four dimensions.

  He would sometimes wake up thinking of how he feared that one million could be smaller than one.

  Arttu didn’t fear events.

  He feared contradictions.

  And this one right here was one of the biggest contradictions he ever faced. Arttu lifted his hands and placed them on his temples, gently pressing his head. He then started walking among the unconscious people, thinking about the concepts of cold and heat.

  “If being hot is the opposite of being cold, then how could I feel both at the same time? Shouldn’t the cold go when I am heated? Why isn’t the cold going away?”

  Arttu wrapped his hands around himself and walked faster, thinking it might help him warm up more easily.

  “This doesn’t help either. Am I sick? I tried exhaling directly into the air, but the vapor didn’t appear. I tried to warm up with the coat, but that didn’t help either. I don’t know what’s happening.”

  Amidst all the thoughts that Arttu was under, one sound triumphed over others:

  The rustling of bushes.

  He immediately turned back to see if someone was there.

  To his surprise, it was just a rabbit running away as if it were in a hurry.

  “Why did the rabbit run? Is it running from something? A beast?” The thought stuck in Arttu’s mind.

  He looked more panicked than he was fighting against the contradiction. There were dozens of people lying on the ground unprotected. If a monster were to appear, Arttu wouldn’t be able to protect them, let alone himself.

  He slowly stepped backwards as a chill went through his spine. And then…

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  A thump.

  Arttu gulped. Cautiously turned back to see what he had hit. As he turned, the fear in his eyes multiplied with each moment that had passed.

  And when he saw the thing that he hit, he froze. Not just mentally but also physically.

  Red eyes, long smooth white hair, and a strangely beautiful, humane look. But the most compelling part of its build was the mark on its forehead—an eye with no iris and two wings attached to it.

  It was a ghoul.

  But Arttu didn’t know what a ghoul was. Another contradiction surrounded his mind.

  A man who looked like a monster.

  “You conjure immense amounts of ominous aura, little one,” the ghoul spoke gently, his eyes refusing to show any emotion.

  His teeth were also revealed when he spoke. Too clean and straight even for a human to have. But his canine teeth were longer than the others, almost like a vampire from the books that Arttu had read.

  “Is he a vampire?” Arttu thought, fear bruising him deeply.

  The ghoul realized that Arttu was scared.

  “Do you fear me, human?”

  Arttu felt a sudden release on his neck. He could now move his head. The rest of his body was still stiff.

  He looked at the ghoul and nodded.

  The ghoul sighed.

  “That’s sad. I didn’t even do anything toward you. Is it because I am different?”

  The words were heavy, but Arttu didn’t feel the weight of them; maybe it was because of his age, or maybe the fear that encapsulated his mind.

  That was the first time that the ghoul showed any emotion.

  The ghoul looked with slight sadness and disappointment.

  “I guess that’s the nature of beings. They fear what they don’t know, what they can’t comprehend.”

  The ghoul pressed his hand gently toward Arttu’s face and caressed his cheek.

  “I thought you would be different, child.”

  His eyes went wide as Arttu felt a release in his entire body. With the release, Arttu dropped to the ground, breathing heavily.

  “Don’t worry, child. I am here merely to observe.”

  The ghoul turned his back toward Arttu and started walking.

  Each step of his black boots lifted the damp soil. Each stomp changed the ground's shape.

  After a few steps, the ghoul turned to say one last line.

  “Don’t you dare die, child,” and left without telling anything other than that.

  After he left, silence conquered the area. The howling wind turned calm, and the bushes that once rustled heavily stilled.

  All chaos extinguished with the ghoul’s leave, except one:

  The chaos inside Arttu.

  Arttu didn’t know what happened, didn’t know what he talked about, didn’t know why he was there, and didn't know why he didn’t attack him. He couldn’t even distinguish whether things were real or not.

  The thoughts got his head spinning. And then…

  …he fainted.

  Arttu opened his eyes.

  “A bed?”

  The ceiling above him was made of old wooden planks, arranged unevenly, small cracks running between them like thin rivers. A faint scent of dried herbs lingered in the air. Sunlight slipped through a narrow window to his right, falling across his face in thin golden lines.

  He blinked slowly, letting his vision adjust.

  The blanket covering him was rough but warm. Not that unnatural cold. This was normal warmth—the kind that made muscles loosen, and thoughts slow down.

  He shifted slightly.

  His body answered.

  No stiffness.

  No invisible force pressing him down.

  He raised one hand and stared at it. It trembled faintly—not from fear, but from the memory of it.

  The red eyes.

  The voice.

  “I am here merely to observe.”

  Arttu sat up.

  His head felt heavy, but not painful. The room was small. A wooden table stood near the wall, holding a clay jug and two cups. A cabinet with chipped edges leaned slightly to one side. A woven rug lay on the floor, faded from time.

  He swung his legs off the bed and let his feet touch the wooden floor.

  Cold.

  Normal cold.

  He exhaled slowly.

  White vapor appeared in the air.

  Arttu stared at it.

  “…It’s normal.”

  The contradiction was gone.

  He stood up carefully, testing his balance. His knees were weak, but they held. He walked toward the table and touched the surface with his fingers. Solid. Real.

  The house was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  “Hello?” he called softly.

  No answer.

  He walked toward the door and pushed it open.

  The hinges creaked.

  Outside, the sunlight was stronger. The village no longer felt chaotic. The wind was gentle now. The bushes stood still. The ground was no longer disturbed.

  And a few steps away—

  Reid.

  He was standing near a caravan, speaking with someone Arttu couldn’t see clearly at first. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were alert as always.

  Arttu stepped outside fully.

  The sound of the door caught Reid’s attention.

  Their eyes met.

  Relief passed through Reid’s face so quickly that it almost went unnoticed.

  “You’re awake.”

  Arttu nodded.

  Reid walked toward him.

  “How do you feel?”

  Arttu paused, considering the question carefully.

  “…Normal.”

  Reid let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

  Before Arttu could ask anything, the old man from yesterday hurried forward. Behind him stood a young man and a woman—the same ones Reid had healed.

  The woman’s eyes were red from crying.

  The young man supported the old man by the arm.

  The old man stopped in front of Reid and bowed deeply.

  “Red Rose… we cannot thank you enough.”

  The young man followed.

  “If it weren’t for you, we would have lost everything.”

  The woman bowed as well.

  “And… thank you for saving my husband.”

  Reid raised his hand quickly.

  “It wasn’t just me.”

  He turned his head slightly toward Arttu.

  “He helped too.”

  The three of them looked at Arttu.

  For a moment, Arttu felt something unfamiliar.

  Attention.

  The woman stepped forward and bowed to him.

  “Thank you.”

  The young man nodded firmly.

  “You saved us as well.”

  Arttu didn’t know what to say.

  He simply nodded.

  Reid placed a hand on Arttu’s shoulder.

  “He also guarded all of you while I was away.”

  The old man’s eyes widened.

  “You did that, child?”

  Arttu hesitated.

  “…I tried.”

  The old man smiled gently.

  “That is enough.”

  For a moment, silence settled between them.

  Then Arttu looked at Reid.

  “What happened?”

  Reid’s expression shifted slightly.

  “I found you on the ground,” he said calmly. “You fainted.”

  Arttu lowered his gaze.

  “The others?”

  “I brought everyone back to the caravan. The injuries were stable. We moved them into the houses.”

  Reid studied Arttu’s face.

  “What happened while I was gone?”

  Arttu’s fingers curled slightly.

  “There was… something.”

  Reid didn’t interrupt.

  “It looked like a man. But it wasn’t.” Arttu’s voice was steady, but quieter. “It talked.”

  The old man stiffened slightly.

  Reid’s eyes sharpened.

  “What did it do?”

  “It… stopped me from moving.” Arttu paused. “Then it let me go.”

  “Did it attack anyone?” Reid asked.

  Arttu shook his head.

  “No.”

  Reid’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press further.

  “…We’ll talk more about it later.”

  The old man stepped forward again.

  “You’re leaving today?”

  Reid nodded.

  “Yes. Our job here is done.”

  The young man bowed once more.

  “If you ever return to this village, our home will always be open to you.”

  Reid gave a faint smile.

  “Take care of each other.”

  He turned toward the caravan.

  Arttu followed.

  Before climbing in, Reid stopped and looked back at the village one last time.

  The houses.

  The quiet streets.

  The people who were now alive because they fought.

  Then he stepped inside.

  Arttu climbed in after him.

  The old man, his son, and his daughter-in-law stood together, watching as the caravan began to move.

  The wheels rolled over dirt.

  Slowly at first.

  Then steadily forward.

  Arttu looked back through the small opening of the caravan.

  The village grew smaller.

  The people became figures.

  Then shapes.

  Then nothing.

  He turned forward.

  The road ahead stretched long and silent.