We were very pleased with all the reviews for the Preface and we were glad that you all liked it. Seeing all those wonderful analyses really inspired us to finish this chapter as soon as we could.
We now present Chapter I.
I: Nomen Est Omen
"What's wrong, dear?"
Tiny hands hastily rubbed sleepy carnelian eyes, attempting to wipe away any residues of tears. The little girl brushed her untamed hair until she decided she was ready and approached the smiling woman on the couch.
"Nothing is wrong, mother," the little girl replied quietly, her cheeks puffed up in indignation as she climbed up and snuggled next to the chuckling woman.
"You're still just a child sweetie, you don't have to put up a strong front all the time," the black-haired woman put the thick book she was reading on the mahogany table and angled the lamp so she could see her daughter's face properly. The little girl was expressionless, or at least she was trying to look unaffected by whatever drove her out of the comforts of her bed to search for her mother in the huge mansion.
"I'm not a child," she mumbled quietly, belying her words by clinging to the woman's arm.
The girl's mother chuckled again and stroked her hair in soothing rhythms, "I see you have your father's stubbornness…no, composure. It will help you in the long run in the future but, for now, won't you give me a smile, hmm?"
The girl fidgeted and hid her face in the crook of her mother's arm, determined not to expose her red face. She was pleased at the praise, or at least she thought it was. She always loved receiving compliments from her parents, especially her mother, and it always made her so giddy that she wanted to break into a silly smile. But a proper lady should not grin so uncouthly. No, she must be on her best behavior at all times so she would become a sophisticated, elegant lady like her mother. She would do everything she could so the woman would be proud of her.
"Smile, please? I don't want to see my daughter frown. You have such a beautiful smile."
"I'm not frowning," the girl peeked up from behind the sleeve and tried to smooth the crease between her eyebrows. "I-I was just wondering why you didn't…well…"
The woman shifted and pulled her daughter onto her lap, patting the embarrassed girl, "I am sorry for not kissing you goodnight, dear, but I thought you were asleep already. I did not want to wake you."
"You should just wake me…"
"Pardon?"
"Nothing," the girl puffed up her cheeks again and averted her gaze.
Sighing both in exasperation and affection, the woman pinched her daughter's cheek, earning an uncharacteristic squeaky yelp from the usually quiet girl. Blushing in mortification, she tried not to stare reproachfully at her mother but failed miserably. Certainly, a lady should not glare but this was too much!
"You're just so fun to tease, dear," the woman laughed and began to tickle the squirming girl, whose stony expression finally crumbled in fits of giggles. Even her father, the most composed person she knew, always fell under her mother's interesting methods of breaking down poker faces so of course she was no match. Twinkling laughter fitting of a child her age filled the spacious living room, harmonizing with the music performed by the peaceful silence of nighttime.
After the woman decided it was enough, she simply hugged her daughter close. The little girl was still giggling breathlessly, unable to resist the comforts of her mother's embrace.
"See, I was right. You have a wonderful smile sweetie. Smile more for me, alright?"
"O-Okay, if you say so mother," the girl whispered shyly. Dazed and slightly tired from the tickling, she beamed and slumped in the woman's arms. She was about to drift off to sleep when scary images flooded her mind, jolting her awake. She remembered why she came to find her mother in the first place.
"Well, why don't you tell me what is bothering you, dear?" The woman's voice was still soft and kind, except now it had a solemn tone that would only come from a concerned parent.
"…I-I had a nightmare and I-I just want to… I don't want to be alone…" The girl's voice was barely discernable as she lowered her head in shame. She always looked down upon other children who constantly whined about being afraid of inane matters. She always prided herself in her unwavering composure unlike the rest of those vulnerable kids. But she was really scared, completely terrified of that monster with bloody fangs…
"Tell me about it, don't bottle it up," the woman chided gently.
Under her mother's encouraging voice, the girl began to describe her nightmare the best she could. She did not know where she was, all alone in a really desolate forest that lacked the usual woodland critters she read about from those picture books. She was forced to travel through the darkness by herself, without anyone to guide or comfort her. She vaguely recalled passing a greyish garden filled with dead flowers that scarily reminded her of her mother's orchard. Her pace hastened with this renewed fear, running blindly through the foliage for some sort of exit.
Finally, she saw a huge mansion at the end of this superficial tunnel. She was so happy then, her dread was quelled by the promise of another living being's presence. However, after looking around the perimeter for entrance, she returned to the locked front door, lost.
"Then what happened?" Her mother prompted, tucking the shivering girl's head under her chin.
"I heard some sort of scratching noise so I followed the sound," the frightened child clenched her eyes as images from her dream became more and more vivid. She found an open iron door at the side of the manor, previously obscured by a tree and thus escaped her notice. Thinking it was the only way in, she stepped into the building without hesitation. Immediately after entrance, a set of dingy stairs greeted her curious eyes. Faint scratching attracted her attention at once, hinting that someone may be down there. She ignored the prickling unease brought by the stifling, musky air permeating in the dungeons and descended step by step. Her instinct whispered warnings to her ears as she passed by bleached objects protruding from the shades of the rusting cells. Just what was waiting for her at the end of this winding path?
Yet she persisted out of desperation, for she was more afraid of the outside then the unknown inside.
"What did you find?" Her mother's voice was so light, like a feather fluttering in an autumn gale. The girl wondered if she was getting so sleepy that she could not hear properly.
"I found…"
What was it again? What was the last thing she saw before she struggled for wakefulness?
A pair of amused, deadened eyes.
Sharp, bloody claws.
Grinning fangs.
And there was no one else. She was alone, confused and helpless to face that monster all by herself.
"Shhhh, don't be scared, you're not alone, dear, we'll never leave you alone. I'm here."
She could barely feel her mother's comforting caresses, as if the woman was disappearing into thin air and leaving the girl to fend for herself.
Don't go…please…don't leave me alone…
"Unnghh…"
"Shh, don't be scared, I'm here."
A hand was brushing her hair so gently and protectively that the rising panic gradually died down. She mumbled something incoherent as she tried to understand where she was. She was lying on something soft and warm, a person's lap. This comforting warmth, similar to that safe feeling in her dream, draped over her like a blanket. Even though her body was begging to rest longer, her wary nature demanded that she learn her whereabouts. Groaning hoarsely, she forced her eyes to open.
Carnelian met auburn.
The stranger merely smiled at her dazed expression.
She blinked sluggishly, observing this lady in wonder.
She wore a typical dress fitting for someone from a higher class, indicated by those elaborate frills and vibrant hues. Her shoulder-length brown hair was barely visible under her pale pink bonnet. But the two colors contrasted sharply and made those chocolate strands stand out even more. She was the very image of a refined lady, enveloped in a tranquil beauty that should only belong to fairytales. Her auburn eyes were so serene and alluring like a breeze through the autumn sky.
"Shh, don't move. Go back to sleep, hm?"
The stranger's lilting voice almost lulled her back into slumber, filling her with an inexplicable sense of safety even in this unfamiliar area. The courier's lips curved in spite of herself, and she was rewarded with a peaceful smile from this fairy-like brunette.
She shifted her head in the girl's lap to try to feel more comfortable. The forest was only illuminated by the frail moonlight, like a ray of hope within darkness. Yet, her sudden movement was too much for her weary body. A sharp sting mercilessly reminded her of the gruesome gash on her shoulder, and crawling prickles whispered about the condition of those puncture wounds on her arm. Her eyes snapped open when she felt the slight weight of the feather-like letter in her gloved hand.
"No, I can't sleep now, I must-"
The pleasant brush of a silky handkerchief against her cheek interrupted her, dabbing away the dirt smudging her pale skin.
Still smiling, the brunette gently helped her sit up, mindful of the other woman's injury. It was then the latter realized her shoulder was wrapped in a long piece of fabric, its light pink already stained by her blood.
"You seem to be in a hurry to go somewhere. I know I should have gotten help to treat your injuries, but you just look so peaceful that I couldn't bring myself to disturb you. You were dozing with a small smile on your face, even," the lady looked at the courier up and down, as if to assess the latter's condition.
"Right, I need to…wait, I was…smiling?" The messenger frowned thoughtfully, unable to comprehend why she would smile about a dream like that. Come to think of it, she hadn't had any nightmares for a very long time. All those long nights were filled with dreamless sleep because she always kept her mind carefully blank, before even attempting to close her eyes.
Perhaps those locked memories were let loose from the recesses of her mind after re-experiencing fear again for the first time since the day she was truly left alone in this world. The courier pursed her lips, uncertain what to say or do next.
"Yes, you were smiling," the lady said simply, "so I thought it was better for you to nap awhile longer, since your wounds have stopped bleeding. Even now, I still think you should continue resting…"
"I can't. I must…" Must what? The courier was still too disorientated to think. All she knew was that she had a letter in her hand, and she must deliver it. It was easier to gather her thoughts if she had a goal to focus on.
"If you insist on going, I shall accompany you through the forest back to the garden," the brunette dusted her dress and stood up, twirling her parasol childishly. Although it wasn't even daybreak yet, she opened her umbrella as if to block sunlight even though the moon was the only spectator in the night sky.
The messenger blinked, nonplussed at the lady's action.
"What's the matter? Don't you have a letter to deliver, Miss Courier?" She tilted her head and elegantly pointed her index finger towards the paper.
"A-ah, yes. But how do you know that, miss-?" The injured woman used the tree as support and pulled herself up, unable to avert her gaze from the figure glowing underneath the shades of the parasol. She flustered at the brunette's silence, mortified to be caught staring.
Yet the lady did not reply. She merely spun around, her dress floating prettily at the motion.
"Let's go~"
"W-wait!" The courier hobbled until she was standing in front of the lady. "It's still dark. We should wait until the sun comes up at least."
"Hmm? Why?" The corners of the brunette's eyes crinkled in amusement.
"T-there is a monster living in that mansion!" The courier blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
Everything was coming back to her now, the pitch-black dungeon, the flickering flame of her torch and a hollow smile illuminated by the dying flare. Fear crept up the messenger's spine once again, not for herself but for the dainty, delicate lady. As a courier, she was used to the harsh conditions during her travels so running away from that creature was just like fleeing from a wild animal. If she thought of the situation this way, her fear could diminish at the very least. She clenched her fists in determination, feeling the weight of her bounded shoulder as a reminder that this girl was kind enough to help her even in the dead of the night. She did not know what happened to her younger self back in the nightmare, but she will make sure that the terror she felt back then would not paralyze her again.
"Awww, are you feeling protective over me? How adorable," the brunette tilted her head and giggled behind a raised hand like a well-mannered lady.
Though her ears were red from embarrassment, the courier continued to frown severely. "I am not joking, miss. You saw my wounds. Perhaps you should stay away from the mansion for now in case the woman attacks you, thinking you're a burglar as well. Or, there is a chance that a monster lives down there- "
"You must be mistaken," smiling, the brunette walked around the anxious woman, "I know for a fact that the dungeons are quite old. Perhaps it was huge rodent - perhaps a rat, Miss Courier. Look, there is no way a monster lives in such a beautiful place, yes?"
The courier was at loss for words as she stared at the scenery before her, bewitched. The forlorn, dead forest now glowed under the faint caresses of moonlight, blessed by an evanescent cloak. Splashes of maple leaves decorated the bare branches like phantoms, enhancing the ephemeral quality of the wonderland.
Time stood still, capturing every drop of beauty onto the canvas of the night.
"See? There is nothing to be afraid of," the lady whispered with a serene smile , "I do not know what you saw but I am certain the resident of the manor is not who you think she is."
The courier nodded slowly, still captivated by the surreal magnificence of the forest. The brunette blended so immaculately with nature, creating a painting more exquisite than any of the images the messenger ever saw in her journeys.
The lady smiled at her amazement and continued her stroll through the forest path. "Hehe, wait until you see the garden! Surely the person living here can't be that terrible if the flowers are all so pretty and well-taken care of, hm?"
"You don't look at a person based on their appearance alone, dear. I mean, look at your father. He always wears that serious expression but you know how kind he is."
"Yes… yes, of course," the courier felt a dull ache in her heart at the thought of her wise and patient mother, "I suppose I was too tired or the resident just doesn't take too kindly to strangers. Alright, I will try my best again. You seem to know this place well. Is there any chance that you know a Miss Yui?"
The brunette tilted her head again, playing with the handle of the parasol. "I live nearby, but I only know the landscape not the people. Just between you and me, I'm a trespasser as well," her soft smile widened mischievously, "I simply cannot keep away, especially from the pond."
"Eh? Why?" The courier inwardly berated herself for this lapse in composure, but she was truly taken off guard by the answer.
Giggling, the lady twirled a strand of her hair to show her embarrassment, "There is a small turtle living in the pond just beyond those trees over there. It's just so cute, I cannot help myself~ I like playing with it~"
The courier laughed lightly for first time since she could remember.
"Hehe, I knew you can make a sound like that, miss Serious," the brunette spun the parasol as if to mirror her delight, "you look so….detached, like you're in a different world or something," she broke off into a fit of giggles, amused by something the courier did not understand.
"Is that so?" Slightly embarrassed, the messenger coughed but tried to drop her mask of professionalism. She was always alone, travelling through foreign lands under the requests of her clients to deliver certain items. She avoided prolonged contacts with other people because she saw no point in socializing, not when she rarely stayed in one place for long periods of time. Everything was just easier if she remained impartial to everything. She would not experience loss if she never gained anything. Some people have remarked how her expression was rather unwelcoming, cold even. Her face did not remain placid on purpose though, as it was just the way she held herself.
"Smile for me, dear."
But her mother wasn't here anymore. There was no need to smile anymore.
However, she quite enjoyed the companionship of this quirky lady, even though they just met. She decided that she could afford to lower her barriers around the brunette, temporarily at least. She felt like she was experiencing a very long dream, where all the events seemed so disconnected and perplexing that trying to make sense of everything was futile.
If it weren't for her bandaged shoulder, the messenger would have thought that she simply dreamt about what happened inside the mansion. Her wounds relentlessly reminded her that she must rationalize these peculiar series of events.
Perhaps the thing she encountered was just a creature from her nightmares, the courier told herself firmly. She ignored the rational side of her mind arguing that her knife was lost in the dungeons because someone slapped it away, and she had smashed a piece of wood against someone's head. Everything had been an illusion, a product of her weary mind. It wasn't difficult to put this matter aside, for now at least. All the previous terror was easily washed away by this simple conversation between two ordinary women.
"Mhmm~ So, anyways, I'd be happy if you can keep this a secret~" The lady clasped her hands beseechingly, complete with a cute smile.
"Alright, it's not like you mean harm or anything," the courier agreed amiably.
"Hehe~"
The two walked through the garden in amiable silence, lost in their respective thoughts or so the courier assumed. The brunette's face was blocked by her parasol but the calm air around her seemed to suggest she was thinking about something. Years of experience told the messenger that it was the kind of quietness one would have during bouts of nostalgia. But what could the lady be reminiscing about?
It was none of the courier's business though. The injured woman wanted to rotate her stiff shoulder or just move it to get rid of the soreness somehow. The wrapping was starting to feel rather itchy and raw against her open wounds because of the dried blood caked around the area of contact. With each step she took, no matter how careful it was, the movement jostled her injuries enough that she had to bite her lips from hissing. She did not want the other girl to notice her discomfort but her tense silence attracted brunette's attention.
She turned towards the courier with a quizzical glint in her auburn orbs.
"What's the matter?"
"Ah, it's nothing."
"Hmm~ you seem to be uncomfortable with your hair."
"A-ah, it's just that I'm not used to having my hair down," the courier brushed those lustrous black strands self-consciously. Imagination or not, she still lost her hair tie during her struggle with someone.
"Is that so?" The brunette tapped her cheek thoughtfully, "oh I know! Could you hold out your hand?" When the courier complied, an ochre ribbon was carefully deposited in her gloved palm.
"This is all I have but perhaps you can use it?"
"Thank you," the courier accepted the worn ribbon gratefully and tied her long hair in its usual high ponytail. Without the weight of those lengthy tresses against her neck, she felt freer and bolder as if she could overcome anything. She was not just some count's daughter having her hair styled prettily for potential suitors, not anymore.
No, she was a courier, and she was proud of it.
"I see. You love your job don't you? Would you mind telling me a bit of your experiences?"
The black-haired woman chuckled uneasily, embarrassed to have spoken her thoughts aloud. She did not really want to talk about her past but she could not refuse the lady's polite request, not after seeing such an earnest glint in those round orbs.
"When I deemed myself ready, I began to work for this small company, introduced to me by an acquaintance," the courier held up her glove, showing the bird insignia. "To me, a letter isn't just a piece of paper. No, it doesn't matter what the item is, whether it is a box of books, a ring or even just a pretty feather. All I see is the special connection between the sender and the receiver, formed through the item requested to be delivered. That's why I will do everything I can to make sure the sender's feelings are conveyed."
"How wonderful!" The brunette looked pleased, "You will deliver anything?"
"Yes. Everything has a value, an indescribable sentiment etched in it. I mean," the courier pulled her bag, shaking her head, "One time I even delivered a dried fish to a stray cat on behalf of a little girl who was too shy to approach the feline on her own."
"That's very nice of you! The girl must be happy."
The black-haired woman resisted the urge to close her eyes and just immerse her consciousness in this lady's melodious laughter. The sound made her feel like a child, safe in her parents' embrace, so innocent and so blissfully ignorant.
"In that case, you truly understand then, that you shouldn't judge a person by their appearance."
The courier had to shake her head to stop the lady's image from superimposing on her mother's blurry face. How silly, the brunette appeared to be around her age though her mature aura spoke volumes of everything she must have experienced.
"No matter what you see, just remember that someone is waiting to read that letter."
Nodding, the courier felt an even stronger kinship towards the lady, who spoke as if she understood her feelings. The brunette's strange yet wise-sounding words and her soft tone strengthened the black-haired woman's resolve to brave the mansion again.
"Although, you don't' have to force yourself to deliver the letter just yet if the recipient is not ready to accept it, yes?"
The messenger swallowed, successfully blocking her memories. "What if it's something urgent? Well, it's unstamped but-"
"It appears to be a simple correspondence between two people, people who are close," the brunette spun her parasol again. "And so, it's up to the recipient to decide when to take in the emotions inscribed in the letter, yes?"
Touched, the courier tried to convey how much the lady's words cheered her up. It was as if the brunette could read her thoughts and encouraged her through their shared sentiments. The black-haired woman inwardly cursed her inability to be expressive due to years of being aloof and always keeping a professional distance with other people.
The lady noticed her dilemma but she only smiled.
"Look, we are here."
The courier blinked, mildly surprised that they already arrived at their destination. Did they not just leave the garden or did she overestimate the distance between the two places?
Even though everything was still shrouded in twilight, the mansion simply appeared to be sleeping, like a stable presence of a regal grandfather. She walked ahead of the brunette and swallowed in anticipation as she took in the vines that crawled over the ancient walls. The dusty window panes still looked the same as they did earlier, yet she only felt pangs of sorrow at how forgotten the manor looked.
This is it. I need to confront whoever it was who attacked me. A rodent, maybe, or just a person surprised and suspicious of my unannounced visit. No matter, the lady is right. I will try to talk to that person and see if I can deliver the letter. Then, I should go back to the town.
The black-haired woman winced when her numb wounds pulsated in reminder of her condition. I don't think the bleeding has completely stopped… Oh, how rude of me. I never thanked the lady for her help! And I didn't introduce myself either.
"My apologies," the courier fixed the strap on her good shoulder, staring at the ground self-consciously, "My name is Azusa. What is your name?"
She waited patiently for an answer, wondering if her self-introduction was too late or too brusque. Unable to take the awkward silence any longer, she turned around with a nervous frown.
She blinked slowly as a chilling gale dragged its claws up her spine.
The brunette was gone.
And there were no footprints in the muddy path.
The silence of the mansion was interrupted by the echoing claps of wooden doors against stone walls. Even the perpetual ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway was drowned by the frantic cracks that came from the mansion's kitchen.
It was as if a wild animal was let loose in this once grand place.
Sharp nails rasped against hard oak as the Spectre dug through the empty cupboards in search of sustenance. Her hands still carried the stain of the courier's blood and its scent drove a wild hunger within her that she could not control. Her mouth frothed as she vainly skimmed her hands inside empty cabinets and pantries. She knew there was nothing in those cabinets yet she still violently searched.
She was so hungry…
The Spectre snarled and threw a cupboard's door closed. Saliva dripped from her open mouth as her unyielding eyes stared at the stone floor. Her body shook and her stomach roared its complaint. How long had it been since she last ate? How long had it been since she last nurtured her hunger? The Spectre could not remember. All she ever knew in this place was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway or the rhythmic drips of water in the dungeon, but those did not dictate time for her. They were merely annoying clicks and taps, sources of sound in this desolate shelter.
Tick, tock.
She rammed her head against a cabinet and felt the impact through her horns and her skull. She groaned as she slowly slid down on the floor, pained and starving.
So hungry…
She looked at her bloodied hands. She could smell the tang and the salt from the stains, and it made her salivate even more. Unthinking, the Spectre licked her hand and felt a peculiar ecstasy at the taste of human blood. She savored the taste and licked her hand again and again until it was clean. The flavor satiated her tongue and made her relish a sense she had inhibited for a long time, but it did nothing to satisfy her stomach.
She needed something that could fill her hunger.
Tick, tock.
The Spectre sat on the floor and leaned against the kitchen wall, licking her lips to catch whatever was left of the taste of blood. She stared at the room's ceiling as her half-sane mind took her back to when this place smelled of freshly baked breads and pastries. Her family's cook certainly enjoyed preparing food for them and the kitchen was never without the aroma of finely prepared cuisine. She and her sister also enjoyed spending time in the kitchen, preparing treats.
None of those existed now. Cobwebs have accumulated in the corners of the ceiling and the cabinets. Dust thickly covered the preparation table and knife lines were now long buried underneath the filth. There were no more smells of delicious food. There were just the musk of aging wood and fantasies of lost dreams.
The Spectre swallowed her saliva and squeezed her eyes closed. If she erased the images of debilitated walls and ceilings, she could picture a kitchen in which golden rays of the sun casted a warm glow over cooling pies and loaves of bread.
"Is it almost ready, Sister?"
"Yes, just a bit longer, okay?"
"It smells wonderful!"
"Why don't you help me with the stew while you wait, hm? Time will pass faster that way."
"Kay~"
Happy giggles of young girls passed through the Spectre's ears. Wonderful smiles and laughter fluttered in her mind like whimsical butterflies, flying gracefully and yet impossible to catch. She squeezed her eyelids together even more, unwilling to lose precious memories that were drifting away from her.
Please, don't go…
Unfortunately, as she reminisced on such happy times, she also inevitably recalled the days that shattered her picturesque childhood.
"How are you feeling, Sister?"
"I-I'm okay. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather, that's all."
"…"
"Oh, don't give me that face. Come, the pie is probably cool enough. Let's eat!"
Stop…
No.
Don't remember.
Don't go there.
Please…
But she knew that the more she ran, the faster the phantoms caught up with her.
The Spectre gripped her dress and trembled as she felt the familiar fear that came to her whenever her living nightmares slowly crept and overshadowed her once perfect happiness. A chill kissed her bare toes and licked up her thin legs. It then lapped at her spine as she quivered helplessly. She let out of a terrified gasp as the coldness touched her neck and claimed her psyche.
She tried to fight it, biting her tongue and digging her fangs in the tender flesh. Pain seemed to be the only sensation that could fight her demons, and yet it still proved ineffective. The Spectre clenched her fists and dug her claws into her palms until they bled. More pain… yes, more, let me feel it.
Let me… feel…
"Listen! Father said he got you some medicine!"
"R-really?"
"Yes! I'm sure it'll help your cold so you wouldn't have to be cooped up inside the house all the time."
"I sure hope so!"
"Oh, and here, I got you some berries."
"Thank you, Sister."
Don't go any further.
I beg you.
But the phantoms of her mind grinned at her in mockery the more she implored their mercy.
"No!" The Spectre shrieked and pushed herself away from the cabinet door with her wounded hands. Images of worried faces and tears flooded her, and pictures of insanity and blood stabbed her festering being as if there was still a part of her that remained whole after years of mental torment. Driven over the edge, the Spectre rammed her head against the hardwood table's leg across from where she sat. The wood creaked and splintered against her inhuman horns as she slammed herself against it again and again until her brain numbed.
"I… might go soon."
"You're not going anywhere. Don't talk like that. You'll always be here with me, 'kay?"
"I want to stay with you."
"Me too, so stay. Don't go anywhere."
"O-okay."
Then the sweet smile vanished. The warm overcast dulled over the pretty face of an angel who watched over her.
It was replaced by a crazed grin.
"I killed them for you..."
The Spectre roared in fury and turned her rage towards the empty cabinet that stood behind her as if it was a demon in disguise. The thinner timber that served as its door shattered against the Spectre's blow, sending splinters all over the kitchen floor. She growled with her fangs bared, claws extended, and hand scratched raw by the wood.
Her hand was bloody once again.
It terrified her.
The girl within the Spectre shook, weakened, while the abomination sneered in mirth, triumphant. She had always been no match against it.
The Spectre then suddenly stilled, her eyes shaded by her unruly bangs. As if possessed, she dropped her hand to her side and whispered emotionlessly into the empty space, "I need to feed…"
She licked her hand and tasted her own blood before wetting her lips as she listened. Only silence and the perpetual ticking of the grandfather clock answered her, but the Spectre could hear a faint sound that deviated from the ticking rhythm. It was a soft pitter-patter on the stone, so quiet that even the slightest rustle of the Spectre's dress drowned its existence.
But it was alive.
It was food.
The Spectre remained still, biding her time and waiting for the faint steps to draw close enough for her strike. Minutes dragged by and yet the Spectre did not move. Instinct told her not to make any sound. She trained her eyes to the corner and saw a shadow. Predator and prey waited on each other but it was the prey that inevitably lost the battle of wills and patience.
A rat jumped out from its hiding place, triggering the Spectre's coiled muscles to unfurl. The pounce was instantaneous; the Spectre used what energy remained in her unfed body to make sure that she caught her prey. The rodent struggled against her sharp claws. It was large enough to pass for a cat and it had no qualms using its overgrown fangs to fight for its life. However, it was under the mercy of a hungry fiend. The Spectre did not even wait for the rat to die from the punctures her claws inflicted on its flesh, she just snarled and bit its belly, spilling blood on the kitchen floor.
"How is it?"
"It's yummy, Sister! Thank you~"
"I'm glad…"
The Spectre's growling did not cease as she feasted on the dead rodent's innards. Gurgling sounds escaped her mouth as she bit into warm flesh, chewed moist entrails, and swallowed. Crunching noises broke the otherwise silent atmosphere as she crushed thin and fragile bones with her fangs.
However, as she filled her stomach, the Spectre felt like she lost more of herself with every bite she ingested. But the pangs of hunger were so strong. The pleasure of feeding was so overwhelming.
Her eyes glazed over with rapture.
It's really good…
So good…
Tears dripped from her cheeks as she thought of the taste of rat flesh on her tongue.
What have you become?
What… are you?
The rat's head and tail, the only parts that remained of it after the Spectre finished feeding, fell on the kitchen floor. The Spectre coughed, suddenly disgusted of her meal, and proceeded to wipe her mouth, smearing her face further with rat fluids. Torn between the satisfied animal and the repulsed girl, the Spectre let out a strange whimper, a sound between a crazed chuckle and a helpless sob.
Why can't I be just one or the other?
A presence suddenly came to her attention. Was the Spectre so lost in her personal hell that she did not sense an intruder? She looked over her shoulder just in time to hear the person uneasily gulping. The Spectre's gaze fell on the sight of the very same courier who dared open the door of her prison.
Under the sun's first rays peeking from the kitchen's windows, stained umber met clear carnelian.
The dark-haired woman held the Spectre's gaze with a resolute determination that shined through the obvious expression of revulsion and fear. However, despite her burning doggedness, the courier was the one who broke eye-contact as if she wanted to avoid enraging a beast.
The rat's remains suddenly forgotten, the Spectre turned her body and slowly stood up, blocking one of the windows' light, and casting a menacing shadow over the courier. "You came back…" She said curiously, "Did I not scare you enough?"
"I said I need to deliver a letter, and that's what I'll do." The courier said, her voice sounding more immovable than her outward bearing.
The Spectre giggled tauntingly as she licked her fingers, "Even after what you just saw, mailwoman?"
The courier gulped audibly, "Yes. Even after that—"
"I haven't eaten for a long time." The Spectre interrupted and brought her fingers to the corner of her mouth, wiping the last stains of red that lingered. She watched the courier flinch at the display and tighten her hand's grip on the strap of her bag. The Beast chuckled at the reaction she received. She could just smell the fear from this woman. She could smell apprehension, the cold sweat that dripped down her cheek. But, most importantly, the Spectre could smell blood on her guest.
"I'm still hungry…" the fiend continued, "But there's no food here. What to do?"
The Spectre smiled maliciously.
Run…
Save yourself!
Languidly, the beast began to approach the messenger with a still, porcelain-like smile on her face.
"Don't come any closer," the courier warned, eyes blazing.
The Spectre stopped, and then giggled when she saw the nervous tension on the black-haired woman's cheek. She could tell that if the courier hadn't been clenching her jaw this entire time, her teeth would have been chattering.
…like a mirthful skull.
They stared at each other, gauging the air and waiting for each other to break the ominous tension.
And just like the rat, it was the trespassing messenger who faltered, stepping backwards as an instinctual response.
A fatal mistake.
The horned monster charged without warning, using the table as leverage and sending it a couple of feet away. Instead of letting panic and fear completely take over, the courier gritted her teeth and used her body weight to swing her heavy bag against the Spectre like a club. The impact sent the fiend toppling against the kitchen cabinets with a dull thud.
"Can't you just sit still?" The courier hissed then cursed when she heard the Spectre snarl. The Abomination shook her head, disoriented by the blow and the impact of her head against the cabinet. She gripped her head as she stood, using the wall for support.
"You can understand me, right?" The messenger raised her voice, determined to be heard, "I know I entered without permission but—"
The beast's amused chuckle and growls were the only response the courier received.
"Would you not listen?"
The monster snarled. Drunk with the odor of blood, she charged, drooling at the promise of food.
The ponytailed woman wisely turned and ran out into the hallway while the Spectre gave chase. The sudden movements and the courier's retaliation only fed the beast's urge dig her fangs into the mailwoman's flesh. Her hunger returned and it clawed at her, urging her to catch the person foolish enough to return after she managed to escape.
The Spectre poured energy she gained from her meager snack into her legs, an investment for the promise of a larger meal. Turning the corner, predator and prey continued their sprint and burst into the manor's large dining hall. The courier used one of the room's large double doors to break her run and make a sharp turn so that she could dash towards the door on the other side of the dining room. Without anything to use for traction, the Spectre was forced to leap onto the grand dining table and use the claws on all her limbs to break her speed.
Without wasting another moment, she dug her claws for footing and shot after her prey once again. However, she was met by an ornament thrown at her head. The angel figurine was smashed against the beast's horns and broke into pieces. Shaking her head to get rid of the shards and plaster dust, the Spectre felt a warm liquid drip down her temple.
"Stop it!" The courier shouted when she noticed that her pursuer halted, "Why do you do this?"
Yet the Spectre merely grinned, the reddish light that seeped through the dining hall's curtains made the blood flowing down her temple glisten with a sinister sheen.
"Don't you hear me?" The messenger tried again in vain.
The Spectre chuckled feverishly as the muscles on all four of her limbs coiled then sprung, renewing the chase. However, the moment she took her third step, the beast found a chair haphazardly thrown into her path, tripping her and sending her onto the ground with large fragments of wood. She yelped because of the sharp pain that bolted from her shins and the impact of her shoulder on the hard floor. That did not stop her though and within moments, she was able to untangle herself from the broken chair.
Standing up from where she fell, she saw a long wisp of black hair turn around the corner from the exit of dining hall.
Growling, the Spectre resumed chase but as she followed the courier down the winding passages that led to the grand foyer, she felt her legs weakening and her already crazed mind hazing. She had been starved for way too long, and blows to her head did nothing to clear her sight. Yet she pressed on even though she found the courier outrunning her. Hunger was her only fuel.
The black-haired woman ran up the large staircase that led to the second floor of the manor. Yet, instead of continuing on and putting more space between herself and her pursuer, the courier stopped halfway up. Panting, she turned around and faced the horned abomination at the base of the stairs.
She yelled, "Let's stop this chase already!"
The Spectre paused and then, after a few moments of observation, she resumed climbing the stairs calmly, her gait belying a strange weakness to her otherwise frightening presence. She held the courier's eyes with her own, "But you're the one who ran. Of course I'll follow you."
"You charged! A-and… you're dangerous."
Intrigued that the woman barely made a movement as she ascended the stairs, the Spectre said, "You know that, yet you still returned."
"I promised I'll deliver the letter—no, don't take another step! Stay where you are!" The black-haired woman barked as she dug one of her hands into her coat's pockets.
The Spectre smiled softly and stopped.
The courier became silent. A drop of sweat rolled down her cheek as she fisted something in her pocket.
"This is my manor…" The Spectre said while smiling, "Can I not ascend my own stairs?"
"Stay there or—"
The monster's smile vanished in an instant, "Or what?" The Spectre did not wait for an answer. Food did not have the right to speak back to her. This woman's organs would just end up littering the red carpet of this room anyway. What was the use of talking?
The beast merely leaped at her prey.
The courier quickly turned to run once again, but the Spectre had already closed a hand around her boot. The fiend pulled her prey's legs, causing the courier to painfully stumble on the stair's steps the moment she lost her balance. Ignoring the woman's cries, the horned monster pinned her against the hard edges of the manor's wooden gradation, only to see a glint of metal.
With a pained cry, the courier managed to pull her knife from her pocket as she was taken down on the stairs. She now fiercely held it and tried to stab the monster. Taken aback, the Spectre hesitated in her actions and stumbled slightly, giving the black-haired woman the leeway to actually do damage.
Had she not intercepted the sharp blade with her palm, she would have been stabbed between her collarbones.
Enraged, the Spectre closed her impaled hand around the knife and painfully pried it away from the courier's slick grip with a beastly snarl. Holding the trespasser down with a clawed hand around her neck, the abomination pricked the knife's handle with her fangs and extracted it from her pierced palm. Angered and wounded, the horned monster ignored the pulsing agony of her stab wound weeping of blood, and took the knife from her mouth and tossed it into the abyssal darkness of the manor's shadowy corridors.
She saw the courier's eyes widen in horror after her only means of protection was thrown so far away from her reach. But her frozen condition merely lasted moments before she resumed her struggle against the Spectre's hold. The beast, livid and hungry, growled audibly and caught her hands so the courier wouldn't be able to throw any more blows at her. The woman continued to fight back, forcing the Spectre to shove her further against hard, jagged surface.
The woman hissed, "Let me go!" But sharpness of her eyes dulled because of the pain.
"Let you go…?" The Spectre repeated, "…when I just caught you?" She chuckled darkly. "That's not very fair. You've proven yourself hard to catch, Little Mouse."
The courier jerked at the insult, forgetting that her hands were trapped by the Spectre's. The abomination barely flinched at the potential blow, and leaned down until she was centimeters away from the courier's face. She wanted to learn the face of the person who had the guts to enter her manor, not only once but twice, all for the sake of a letter that could not mean anything to her anymore.
"You're pretty." The Spectre observed and whispered when the courier remained silent despite the close proximity. "And you smell really nice…" Certainly, the courier smelled of the outside world, of tree bark and grass, of earth and sky, and of sunlight.
She also smelled of blood, fear, and a sorrow that seduced the Spectre even more.
The beast lowered her head and nuzzled the courier's neck, "…yes, you smell really good." She murmured against her skin. Ignoring the persistent jerks trying to push her off and the pulsing pain of her punctured left hand, the Spectre stilled where she was, taking pleasure at the scent of another living being, and allowed her hunger take over. She licked the woman's neck and tasted the salt of courier's sweat. "So warm too… I wonder how you taste like."
"Stop it! Get off!" Out of desperation, the woman hit her head against the Spectre's just to remove the monster's lips away from her neck. She groaned when her cranium collided with one of the Spectre's horns.
The fiend pulled back a bit and gazed at the woman's face once again with a simple, joyful-looking smile on her bloody face. She watched the woman's wide eyes observe her in fear as she shifted. Crossing the courier's wrists, the Spectre held both of her captive's hands in her pierced palm, pinning them against the woman's torso. Her smile morphed into something more threatening as she squeezed the courier's wrists.
Brilliant crimson oozed out from the wound on the Spectre's hand.
With one of her hands free, the Spectre shifted her attention to the source of the alluring scent of blood not her own. She glanced at the courier's left shoulder and found that it was bound to keep the wound beneath from bleeding. The cloth was dirty and stained in that seductive maroon, so much that the sight of it intensified the Spectre's bloodlust. Like a hungry animal, she licked the blood-soaked fabric and tasted the delicious liquid once again.
"So sweet..." The Spectre uttered with amusement and went on to loosen the cloth from the courier's shoulder. Dropping the wrapping to the side, she then used her claws to pry the woman's clothes apart, giving her more access to the reddened flesh underneath. She felt the courier struggle to free her hands but the Spectre paid her no mind despite the pain of her injured hand. She was far too enticed by the sight of blood-stained skin. It provided a sharp contrast to the courier's true skin tone. Elated, the Spectre lapped at the scarlet liquid around the wound she inflicted on the woman just last night, and delighted at the taste.
"Do you like to eat sweet things, Little Mouse?"
She then dragged her tongue across wound itself, a deep gash created by her own claws.
The woman hissed at the sting and tried to hit the Spectre with her injured shoulder in spite of the pain, desperately trying to get free. Once again, the Spectre disregarded the courier's thrashing and placed her mouth over the wound to suck on the blood that seeped out. The warmth of her mouth and the suction stung her victim even more, forcing her to cry out in pain. But the courier renewed her struggle and started kicking from beneath the Spectre, and as a result, made the beast graze her fangs against the already enflamed skin.
"A-ah! N-No! S-top it!" The courier's eyes were already wet from the agony and terror as she bit her lower lip to bare the pain.
The Spectre chuckled forebodingly, "If only you kept still then that would not have happened. Perhaps I should just tear out your throat so you would stop struggling, hm?"
"Y-you… monster!"
The Spectre's smile flattened and she became silent. Her amusement disappeared but the hunger remained. "I am a monster, aren't I?" She started, leering at the courier's carnelian eyes, "And, monsters… don't play with their food. Alright then…"She licked the courier's wound one last time.
A breathless whisper brushed against the courier's ear.
"No more games, Sweet Stranger."
The Spectre's rough tongue grazed the messenger's gaping wound before large, razor-sharp fangs penetrated her prey's already broken skin, sinking into throbbing flesh.
She was not after taste anymore. She was after chunks of flesh.
The courier screamed.
The beast felt a violent burst of desperation underneath her as she bit deeper into her victim. The courier writhed in agony, screaming and thrashing against her attacker, frantically trying to free herself from the monster's grip.
Just like the rat she ate earlier.
However, the struggles escalated. The courier's hisses grew more severe and her body's movements became stronger due to adrenaline. Before the Spectre could pin her down again, the black-haired woman's boot collided with her stomach. The courier had folded one of her legs underneath the horned creature and started a series of desperate kicks. The bolt of pain that shot up from her abdomen loosened her hold on the courier's arms.
Furious, the Fiend growled and bit down harder.
A strangled cry.
Another heave.
One last kick.
The Spectre was finally torn away from her prey and landed on the base of the stairs after a series of loud, painful thuds.
The courier panted and frantically pulled her clothes to cover herself. She pressed her gloved hand tightly against the excruciating wound to stop the bleeding.
On the floor, the Spectre shifted and groaned.
"Did you do a bad thing again, Sister?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Father doesn't look very pleased."
"Oh, he's just tired, I'm sure."
"Truly?"
"Yes!"
"…you're a bad liar, you know?"
"Ehe~"
Though in pain, the Spectre pushed herself up from the hard stone floor, feeling her bone creaking as she did so. She was still on all fours when tears began to fall and sobs started to shake her frame. She did not weep because of the pain but because of the realization of what she almost did. She almost killed that woman, didn't she? She almost fed on that woman. She lost herself again. She lost control again. She almost killed again.
The Spectre trembled and began to cry openly where she knelt.
"I'm sorry…" She choked out, hoping the courier could hear her, and hugged herself. "I'm so sorry."
She looked up at the woman who still sat on the staircase. "Y-You should l-leave this place. I… I don't want to do that again. I…I'm a m-monster! Please!"
The Spectre's eyes were now free of malice and full of fear. She feared for herself. Just how long would she be able to stay? She also feared for the woman she attacked. The courier was bleeding and it was because of her. It was her fault.
She did all of those horrendous things.
She wished to hide her tears in her hands but when she glanced at them, she trembled at how stained they were. The Spectre then felt something warm flow down her cheek, followed by a sharp sting on her forehead. What happened this time? Lifting her left hand to touch her throbbing forehead, she then saw a hole in the middle of her palm. Her fingers quivered, her pupils constricted, and her face paled. What had she done now? Why were her hands always so red? Why was she always so dirty whenever she woke? The Spectre closed her eyes and wept. Her tears dripped down her chin, taking with it the blood on her cheek and lips, and rained on her upheld hands before she covered her face with them.
Tears turned crimson dripped from between her fingers and painted scarlet lines down her arm.
"Please leave… and don't come back." She begged. "Don't… ever come back."
"You…" The courier tried to speak between hoarse gasps but she could not. She did not know the words to say as her mind still swam due to the excruciating pain.
"Please hurry… i-it might come back."
"You…?" The messenger repeated, still unable to find the right words to utter due to her confused and chaotic thoughts.
The Spectre nodded her head but did not remove her face from her hands. She spoke, her voice muffled by the palms of her hands, "I-I'm so hungry… I didn't—I could not … I didn't mean— what I did. I'm so sorry!"
When she was only met by silence, the Spectre thought that the courier did not hear her and looked up with tears streaming down her face. The black-haired woman was staring but there was no other emotion in those carnelian eyes but fright and disbelief. It was understandable, the Spectre thought, as she pressed her lips together in a thin line and stared at the droplets of blood that now tarnished the hardwood steps of the stairs. She could not expect this stranger to believe her.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Eyes blank, the Spectre followed the dotted trail of blood down the stairs, and with each drop of crimson she saw, clear tears of anguish fell onto her lap, darkening the already dirty fabric of her dress.
Seconds flew by.
Then minutes.
The grandfather clock suddenly chimed from deep within the mansion's interior, invisible but omnipresent.
The sound of jerky hisses and clumsy rummaging returned the Spectre's attention into the world of motion, or reality. Returning her umber eyes to the courier on the stairs, she saw that the injured woman had buried her gloved hand in the satchel she faithfully carried around her shoulder. There was an agonized grimace on the courier's face, sweat beading and rolling down her jaw but she stubbornly continued to search.
The Spectre opened her mouth to speak but no words came.
All the horned woman could do was gape and watch the courier grit her teeth as she attempted to stand. Fearful for the severely wounded woman, the Spectre lifted a heavy and uncertain hand in an attempt to stop the courier from moving. The black-haired woman might fall down the stairs.
And yet wobbly footsteps slowly made their descent.
Nervous but frozen, the umber-eyed woman could only watch. What should she do? What could she do?
Her mind screamed.
Don't come closer.
Stop...
But the footsteps continued to slowly go down the steps, graceless yet so full of fortitude.
Tick, tock.
A hiss.
More footsteps.
The courier finally dropped herself on the second lowest step of the stairs and winced, "That was a nasty bite…"
The Spectre's eyes widened and felt guiltier when she saw the woman squint her eyes in pain. "I-I…" She could not even finish her sentence before she found a biscuit held in front of her face.
"If this stops you from doing that again, take it," the courier said, her face contorted in agony.
"But I…"
"You're hungry, aren't you?" The woman interrupted.
"Y-yes, but…"
"Take it."
The Spectre extended her bloody hands towards the pale biscuit and took it. However, before she could even speak of her gratefulness, the ponytailed woman swayed.
"The blood isn't stopping!" Even though every fiber of her being told her not to do so, the Spectre subconsciously moved forward to the catch the courier before she fell from the steps.
Firmly, the woman held the Spectre's shoulder and steadied herself back onto the steps, "Eat it before you try to eat me again."
The Spectre knelt in front of the courier and looked from the biscuit, to carnelian eyes, and back. Torn between wanting to help, the need to feed, and deeply imbedded apprehension, the Spectre finally took the woman's advice.
It just might be a bit safer for them both.
She bit into the crispy, baked wafer, and chewed. The sweetness of the starch on her tongue was enough to make tears flow once again. She had never tasted anything so delicious.
She smiled gratefully as she tried to wipe away her tears, "Thank you."
But before she could raise her palm to clear her eyes' blurry vision, the Spectre felt the courier's unconscious form fall on her.
Clatter clunk clatter.
"No please, don't take them away!"
Scratch scratch scratch.
"Where are you taking them? Please let me see them-"
Clack crack clack
"Why won't you say something?"
A deep sigh.
"There's nothing left to see. It'd be best to give them a proper burial as soon as possible."
"No no no no-!"
Mouth opened in a soundless scream, Azusa stared blankly at the ceiling and listened to the pounding of her very much alive heart disrupting the silence of her world. She thought that dream about her mother would be the last bout of nostalgia she would have for a long time. Why was it that she could still hear her parents' bodies being carried away by the carriage?
Clink, scratch, a quiet sigh.
Azusa blinked slowly, realizing that she wasn't imagining things. She turned her head towards the source of noise and spotted an unfamiliar figure rummaging her bag.
"What are you-"
The courier's first instinct was to stop the stranger from touching her precious satchel. However, when she tried to sit up, a molten pain seized her shoulder like a beast's claws. A strangled whimper left her throat, her eyes screwed up in attempts to block out the stabs of pain. Shaking in agony, she clutched at her shoulder and twisted her body.
A loud clatter made her body jerk involuntarily. A breathless gasp was all she could muster before she fell off wherever she was lying on and landed onto the carpet with an inaudible thud. She hissed and curled up, her stiff gloves dampening at the tips as she pressed harder against her wound.
"Y-you s-shouldn't move. I t-tried my best with, um, I was just…"
Azusa panted erratically and opened her eyes to try to see who spoke in such a timid voice. The moment her carnelian eyes rested upon the crouched figure in front of her bag, everything came rushing back to her in one beat of her heart.
After the lady's abrupt disappearance, Azusa just stood there in the middle of the muddy road and stared into space for a few moments. Unable to figure out the mystery, she decided to go ahead with her quest. Even though she was wary about entering through the dungeons again, she gathered all the courage she received from the lady's words and took careful steps into the darkness below. She brought a bigger branch this time, thinking that both the flare and the wood could be used as a weapon in place of the knife she lost.
Yet nothing awaited her at the end of the meandering pathway. The ominous absence of the creature made her sigh in relief and clench her fist at the same time. Should she be glad or worried? Shaking her head, she moved the flame towards the iron door and grimaced when she spotted dark spot dotting the rusting surface. Gulping, she raised the light to further illuminate the room, revealing a bleached skull. Its frames were still hidden by the shades, but Azusa did not wish to stare at the forgotten corpse any longer than necessary. Just before she averted her gaze, she noticed her knife near the dislocated jaw, the blade's tip barely touching the misshapen bone. Cold sweat trickled down her neck as she walked towards the skull without looking at it. She shivered unconsciously when she bent down to retrieve her weapon, as if she had intruded an area even more forbidding than the dungeon itself. Burned by the frigid dead air, Azusa quickly backed out of the room.
The courier began to look around the place, uncertain what her next step should be. She was too focused on discerning the creature's whereabouts that she almost missed a set of stairs leading up from the dungeons. Blinking curiously, she followed the stone steps up with one hand clenched around the flame and the other fisting the unsheathed knife in her pocket. The mansion's interior was just as dark as the dungeon and the emptiness of the halls further increased Azusa's unease. However, she was not given any time to explore or even observe the wall hangings and various ornaments. Loud scraping noises instantly caught her attention and made her swerve towards the noise in hurried but careful steps. She quickened her pace as the scratching of wood was replaced by the clatter of something collapsing.
When she turned corner, her eyes immediately trained onto the crouched figure in what appeared to be a kitchen. Azusa cautiously set down the flare, making sure her presence wasn't noticed by the horned woman. The courier did not want to imagine what the other woman could be doing but she could not block out the disturbing squelches of ripping flesh and dying screeches of the struggling rat. Even then, Azusa remained calm and waited patiently for the right moment to alert the feeding creature of her arrival.
Everything became a blur afterwards. She ran and ran as terror gripped her like the time in the dungeons. All of those meticulously contemplated reasons fell from her panicking mind as she turned corners and threw the first thing she grabbed. She could not see this horned woman as anything other than what she was, a vicious predator lusting after her blood. Survival instinct took over when her attempts to speak to the beast failed. Azusa fought back with everything she had, using the knife to try to get the creature off her.
Then there was only pain.
Afterwards, she remembered struggling to help a sobbing woman by giving her food, but what happened after that?
Right now, Azusa was faced with this predicament before her eyes. She could only see two faces, two very different visages that were distorting and merging.
The shadowy monster baring its fangs, with such a hungry gleam in its glazed eyes.
The distressed creature crying and apologizing profusely, with such genuine remorse in its weary eyes.
Which one was it now?
Strong sunlight entered the dim living room, enveloping the place in an elusive peace that coaxed Azusa to drop her guard. Everything became visible to her widening eyes, everything, in great details. The matted carpet floor, antique furniture, dusty ornaments, tragically forgotten paintings on the walls, and this young woman.
Young woman?
She had uneven brown tresses, where one side was silky long while the other side appeared to be chopped off impulsively so it barely reached her shoulder. A pair of small but sharp horns protruded on her head and one of them was broken, displaying its jagged edges menacingly under the sun. One side of her face was covered in maroon, though the wound at her temple seemed to have stopped bleeding already. Her lavender dress was tattered and faded, caked with grime and dried blood. Thin and pale arms stood out against the grey hues of her clothes, and the patched scales on the exposed parts of her legs glittered almost eerily under the bright light.
Under Azusa's scrutiny, the woman hid her hands out of view but the courier had seen them clearly. Those slim, artistic fingers marred by the sharp claws or nails were wrapped around the courier before, attempting to squeeze the life out of her. Those claws, still covered in dark maroon, once dug into her skin to relish in her cries for mercy. One of the hands was crudely wrapped in a piece of cloth, reminding the courier of the knife wound she inflicted during their struggle on the stairs.
What caught Azusa's attention the most though as the woman's eyes. They were not beastly, slit-pupils as she had imagined. Rather, they were damp with unshed tears and gleamed with guilt and dread, as if she was expecting punishment for what she did.
Basking under the sunlight, this stranger looked like a lost little girl even with all those peculiar characteristics. Azusa vaguely recalled the child she delivered the piece of fish for, and shook her head at her whimsical silliness. Even just briefly, how could she even compare that innocent child to this…creature that tried to eat her?
Azusa kept her eyes trained on the horned woman as she painstakingly sat up against the couch, gritting her teeth to keep the pain at bay. The brunette fidgeted, lifting her hand uncertainly like she wanted to help the courier but was unable to leave her sanctuary behind the bag.
"The scab must have ripped open," Azusa hissed, wiping away the sweat adorning her brows before her hand returned to clutch at the bandaged wound. The wrapping was bounded well, considering it was done with a piece of torn fabric from what appeared to be the brunette's dress. Yet without proper treatment, the thin piece of cloth was not enough to stop the blood from oozing.
"I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean to…um, I was just looking for bandages in your bag…um…"
The shy, fearful voice was almost lost like a breeze through the morning air, but Azusa had heard her. The courier heard the sincere apology and she felt she must express her acceptance of it, so she could speak to the brunette without the latter choking up at every word. As Azusa shifted and cautiously moved forward, the horned woman tensed and backed away instantly.
"S-stop! Don't come any closer!" Frightened umber orbs wavered from the ground to the stained wrapping on the courier's shoulder, "I-It's not a good idea, I d-don't know what I'd…a-and your wound is bleeding again…"
Azusa was reminded of the abandoned critters she encountered during her travels. Every time, she wanted to hug those lost creatures yet she could not even approach them because they were still part of the wild.
Untamed and free.
But was this woman the same? Would she bite her…again?
The courier knew she should be careful around the horned woman yet her instinct was not giving off any alarms. As long as Azusa was able to keep the brunette here, she would be able to explain her intentions and perhaps even deliver the letter.
Judging from the intensity of the sunlight, Azusa guessed it was around midday already. This woman must have tried her best to take care of her in spite of what transpired earlier. Azusa did not know how to feel about the brunette but it would be best to treat her as an impartial acquaintance instead of an attacker. It always seemed to work out in the past. By remaining her distance, Azusa was always able to take her leave after exchanging pleasantries instead of having to linger longer for forming deeper bonds she did not care to forge. Treating this brunette in this manner would allow the courier to return to her usual mindset, granting her a sense of normality she desperately needed.
How should she approach the subject though? The ponytailed woman remembered the brunette's reaction to the recipient of the letter, this miss 'Yui'. Either this woman was Yui or she knew who Yui was. However, both options brought out rather extreme response from her so Azusa must choose her words carefully just in case.
"Alright, I won't come any closer," Azusa resisted the urge to furrow her eyebrows at the relieved sigh from the brunette and continued to speak in a professional voice, "let's just put aside everything that happened between us for now." She breathed deeply, ignoring the protesting stings at the terrible bite wounds on her shoulder, "First, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Azusa, a courier. I apologize for entering your mansion twice without permission but I had to make sure the letter was delivered properly. It is understandable that you are not too…pleased with my trespassing."
"O-oh, n-no, I wasn't a-angry or…u-um, I should be the o-one apologizing instead, I-I attacked y-you twice for no reason a-and-" the brunette's stuttering got worse and her murmur became inaudible to the courier's ears.
"Didn't I just say 'let's put everything aside for now'? But it's fine. I accept your apology."
"J-Just like that?" The woman could not mask her shock, though her body tensed again as if she was ready to bolt any moment. Azusa frowned. Of course she could not just forget everything that happened but it would be dangerous to bring up the subject now. She needed to keep this woman in her current mindset. Again, the courier's experience helped suppress her turbulent emotions so she was back to her impartial state of mind.
"Yes, you mean your apology, of course I will accept it." Azusa had no trouble saying these words because she truly believed in the sincerity of this woman's words. The courier trusted her instinct enough that, for now, the speaker was not the slavering beast that tried to kill and eat her.
"I-I am just a…monster…h-how could you…" the horned woman attempted to blend into the shadows in order to hide her inhuman attributes but the sunlight's shawl kept her away from the shades. She clenched her eyes as if this would block her from Azusa's view.
The black-haired woman continued to observe the brunette though, never averting her gaze. She tried her best to show she did not mean any harm and she was not afraid of those horns or claws, not at this moment. Azusa was curious, very curious, but none of her feelings leaked through as she calmly sat there. Duty first and questions later, if she ever got the chance to do so.
The awkward silence continued but Azusa persisted, allowing the brunette to adjust to her presence and attention before filling up the room with her neutral voice.
"Well, what's your name?"
"M-my name?"
Azusa frowned at the frightened, astonished expression on the brunette's face. So many emotions flashed in those flickering eyes that the courier could not discern how the other was feeling. One thing was for certain though.
This horned woman was definitely not the same one as the monster who wanted to eat her.
"Yes, your name," Azusa spoke again, this time with a careful gentleness in her tone.
"…I don't have a name. Names are for humans," the brunette still appeared to be scared, but there was a steel edge in her reply.
"Then you must have a name," Azusa took a deep breath, "those who aren't humans would not bandage my wound or feel concerned." The more she thought about it, the more she believed that the woman had multiple personalities because of the two drastically different personas she faced. This explanation appeared to be the most reasonable in the courier's practical mind.
"T-that's-"
"I was attacked, yes," the courier quickly cut her off with a firm voice, "but you didn't have to take care of me afterwards if you are what you say you are. Please tell me your name."
The woman breathed harshly, clawed fingers clutched at the hem of her torn dress like a cornered kitten who was silently crying in distress. Her head was bowed, her long bangs obscuring her eyes but Azusa knew tears were probably swimming in them again. The courier was about to apologize for being so nosy when the brunette lifted her head. Her gaze was fixated on her misshapen hands as she whispered.
"Ui…my name is…Ui."
Her voice was so detached and monotonous, like she was reading an uninteresting piece of information off a book.
Like she was not certain if that was her own name.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
End of Chapter I: The Name is the Sign
TBC
Author's Notes:
Athyra: Chapter I. Yes, it's quite long, but it contains everything we want the readers to experience. Like the preface, it was quite fun writing this chapter. For some reason, I don't know what to say here, maybe because I've already said everything I wanted to say. Thanks for reading and thanks for the supports.
ghikiJ: And so, the characters are introduced. Since this story was originally a oneshot, the story's events may proceed at a rather fast pace compared to actual multi-chapter pieces, so keep that in mind. This chapter was original only 8k words. Yet, it ended up 12k for some reason. Editing was tedious due to sheer amount of text but I hope that we did a good job at it. Within the next few days Athyra will upload some character/scene illustrations on her DeviantArt page, which you can access through her profile. I will also post links to those illustrations on my profile page when they are available.
Minor Edit: Hurrying to upload on the 13th caused me to neglect formatting. I just revamped the chapter format, so ignore the random increase in word count. They are just from the horizontal rulers and this note.