Within Cloverft, Quinn’s Great Forest
The forest was always so serene. The towering canopies blocked out the sunlight high above, keeping the entire path perpetually shrouded in gloom. Yet occasionally, rays of light would pierce through the gaps, granting this land brief moments of brilliance.
The road—if it could even be called a road—was little more than a stretch of grassy terrain, marked only by the occasional carriage tracks and the remnants of human campfires….
Leaves and branches swayed with the wind, casting dappled, shifting shadows across the ground, allowing the creatures hidden within the forest to bask in the warmth of light—wild boars, rabbits, and other such animals, as well as monsters.
On ordinary days, they were peaceful creatures, rarely baring their fangs unless provoked by outside intruders.
One must never venture into this forest in search of precious spoils—never. For the bones scattered beside tree stumps, before tall grasses, and along the edges of ponds serve as warnings of the monsters lurking within.
—Footsteps, followed by the rumbling of wheels. Hmph, another batch of reckless fools charging into these woods.
The carriage itself was modestly appointed—nothing more than a slightly larger travel wagon—but the man driving the horses was anything but ordinary.
Dressed in a gray-black trench coat with matching dark hair, the firearm slung across his back gleamed in harmony with his attire. His face… well, it was about as striking as you’d expect—his features carried an indescribably subtle charm. If one had to sum it up with a phrase—
Devilishly handsome?
Then again, he probably didn’t want to be bothered by the trappings of nobility.
The only thing about him that hinted at his noble status was likely the platinum-and-red-crystal brooch pinned to his chest.
“This forest is dangerous. We need to tread carefully.”
The man took a deep breath, letting the wild, natural scent of the wilderness fill his nostrils. It seemed to unleash something primal within him—
An animal instinct, after all—humans were once part of nature too.
“Just as they say—this forest really does live up to its reputation. Taking a stroll here really does relax the mind.”
“Well, to be fair, going for a walk anywhere usually helps you unwind, don’t you think, Winter?”
A handsome red-haired man poked his head out from the carriage window, teasing his companion. Every inch of him oozed aristocratic charm—after all…
Anyone who could get a nobleman to drive their carriage was clearly someone of no small standing!!
“Really? I’ve never been to a place like this before. I suppose I just never liked the wilderness.”
“What’s not to like about nature? Why stay cooped up in towns all day… Though I suppose I’m one to talk—I only stayed because my old man forced me.”
“Oh, right—I never told you this, Lyle. When I was a kid, I actually loved playing in the mountains… Never mind, never mind. It’s all embarrassing nonsense—worse than wetting the bed.”
“Oh, so you did wet the bed then.”
“I did not!!”
“Haha! I know, I know—just kidding.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“Spare me, please.”
….
After a round of banter and teasing, Winter called back into the carriage while handling the reins:
“How’s the little one doing? It’s been a while since dawn, hasn’t it?” There was a note of regret in his voice, as if the child meant something important.
When no response came from inside, Winter assumed Lyle had fallen asleep and stayed quiet, focusing his attention on the reins.
“Honestly, he hasn’t rested since last night. Now’s a good time for him to catch up on sleep (yawn)…”
Halfway through, Winter let out a yawn himself. He’d hardly rested since arriving at Feltro either, spending his days running around the city searching for any lead on the little girl.
But in the end, he and Lyle had found only a corpse. The moment he saw the little girl lying on the ground, he knew it was already too late.
“Lord Winter, if you need rest, allow me to take the reins.”
Just as Winter was about to give in to exhaustion, a sudden voice startled him so badly he nearly tumbled off the carriage. Turning around, he saw Benjamin’s earnest face.
Benjamin was Lyle’s attendant, his most trusted subordinate. Wherever Lyle went, Benjamin followed, and Lyle would often confide his true thoughts to him.
Relieved to see it was him, Winter eagerly handed over the reins, desperate to catch up on a solid twenty-four hours of sleep.
He steadied himself against the carriage, one foot on the small step by the door—only to nearly slip off as his leg gave way from fatigue.
“Hey, whether you’re asleep or not, Lyle—I’m coming in… (yawn)—cough, cough!” Winter had intended to flop onto the cushions and sleep soundly, but when he saw what his friend was doing to a little girl, he nearly choked on his own yawn.
The girl was wearing a sweater, its lower half pulled up to just below her chest, exposing her pale abdomen. Her fair skin, though deathly pale at this moment, still managed to catch the eye….
“Lyle! Wh-What do you think you’re doing?! How could you… do something like that to a little girl who hasn’t even grown cold yet! I misjudged you—so your preferences do include necrophilia after all!”
“Now that you’ve had your say, mind if I have mine?”
Without missing a beat, Lyle pressed his hand against the girl’s belly, his fingers tracing from her abdomen to her waist. His expression gradually grew puzzled… but whether it was just his imagination, there was something oddly pleased about his face.
After that, Lyle rested his hand under his chin again, quietly staring at the girl’s midsection. It wasn’t until Winter patted his shoulder that he snapped back to attention.
“Ah, sorry—I got a bit carried away.”
“Carried away admiring a girl’s fair skin? I get that you’ve got some interest in her, but now’s not the time!”
Winter brushed Lyle’s hand away, but Lyle merely twitched the corner of his mouth, suppressing his irritation before settling into the cushioned seat.
Sensing something off, Winter sat down beside him.
“Lyle, what’s wrong?”
“I… nothing’s wrong.”
“Liar. Who do you think I am to you? Don’t I know you well enough? Fine, fine—I won’t poke at your pride like that anymore.”
At those words, Lyle let out a soft chuckle.
“You really do get me.”
“Of course. Sigh… I know you care about the little one’s safety. And I know you’re just trying to keep the promise you made to your friend—”
“It was a promise I made to the little girl herself. But I—”
He unconsciously glanced at the girl, and Winter noticed every move he made. It struck him as odd—
Lyle was never greedy for wealth or lustful for flesh. Everything he did had a purpose… At least in Winter’s eyes, Lyle was a thoroughly pragmatic man.
“You keep staring at her—what’s the matter? …Wait—her wounds? They’re gone? No way! Lyle, you healed her, didn’t you?!”
Grabbing Lyle by the collar, Winter’s voice was laced with disbelief. It wasn’t anger at what Lyle had done—it was sheer astonishment.
Lyle nodded and continued:
“Back in the carriage, I thought the body would attract flies and carrion-eaters, and I needed to preserve her remains. So I cast a low-level healing spell—just enough to treat the surface. I never expected this to happen.”
“After you healed her, did she revert back all at once? Or was it more like a regenerative creature—like a slime—”
“Yes, exactly as you’re thinking. After I cast the spell, the flesh quickly grew back, though the scars remained… But as time passed, the scars vanished completely—not a single trace left.”
“So that’s how it is… She must have some kind of special constitution. That’s probably why she remained so fair despite everything. Didn’t your friend mention anything about her physique?”
“No. Maybe he didn’t trust me enough yet. The little girl would usually consult me first about what to do, then fill me in on the details after.”
“Huh? You let yourself be led around by a little girl like that? Well, I suppose I’m the same way… Hey—have her eyes always been like that?”
Winter swallowed hard, pointing at the girl’s forehead. Her golden pupils had lost their luster, her eyelids half-closed and frozen, leaving behind those beautiful eyes that seemed to hold a lingering flame of resentment.
“Yes. It’s been like that since dawn. I’ve tried everything—even attempted to close them with my hands—but she always ends up half-open again. —Let go of me!”
“Wait—that’s basically a ghost story now!! Should we hire an exorcist for the funeral?!”
“Get off me, you scaredy-cat virgin!”
“Who are you calling a virgin?! You uptight virgin!!”
Ah, the wonderful camaraderie of close friends.
