TMBIPYMEN Chapter 4

The moment she placed her hand on his shoulder, Layla felt a strange heat boring into her as if burrowing under her fingernails. It was too light to be actual pain, yet it remained so vividly even after she removed her hand that it couldn't be dismissed as illusion.

What's been going on since earlier?

Layla narrowed her brow while staring at her fingertips. Something strange could be felt from this man. Something without substance, but definitely existing...

"It's the right path to the village. Why?"

Layla, who had been falling into thought, let out an incredulous laugh at Yustar's nonchalant response.

"Why, you ask—don't you know? If I go to the village now, I'll be caught by the enraged villagers and hung upside down from a tree. That would be fortunate. I'd be stoned until death in that position, or else burned alive, tree and all."

Though she was exaggerating slightly, it was definitely true that the villagers had been desperate to kill Layla since this strange disease began spreading.

To walk right into those angry people—she couldn't do that unless her mind had snapped.

The moment she tried to shake her head, Yustar suddenly burst into quiet laughter. He seemed somewhat amused, and also seemed to be teasing her.

"I roughly understand what you're worried about. But, Layla. This isn't the Dark Ages."

Layla's expression grew even more furrowed. The Dark Ages referred to the past from hundreds of years ago, now turned to dust. Disease and war, death and screams ran rampant, and people trembled in fear that the first demon would rot everything on earth.

Terrified people hunted down witches living alone deep in forests like vermin and burned them in the name of God.

They tied stones all over their bodies and dropped them in the middle of rivers, stabbed under their armpits with heated iron. Bizarre and cruel executions and tortures that would make even real demons stick out their tongues were employed.

'But that was such a foolish thing to do.'

Layla recalled her mother's voice from long ago. Her mother would often comb Layla's hair in the creaking rocking chair. And she would calmly tell her daughter those terrible stories on her lap.

'Among the women those foolish people killed, not one was a real witch. Because the witch's bloodline is only us here.'

'What if people try to kill us again, Mother?'

When young Layla asked in fear, her mother stroked Layla's hair with fingers thin yet soft and firm.

'Don't worry, Layla. Real witches are never killed by human hands. And that was just a delusion of the Dark Ages. Foolishness and darkness seeped into the air, clouding human eyes and stirring up their minds. Now humans don't know what real witches are. Of course...'

What did Mother say after that?

"Are you all right?"

Yustar's voice pulled Layla from her thoughts.

She looked up with a start like someone waking from unconsciousness, then recalled the last of their conversation and rolled her lips inward to bite them.

"It may not be the Dark Ages, but Ridgecarse village is sufficiently covered in darkness."

"That may be so. But with me, you're fine, Layla. The things you're imagining won't happen. I promise."

Again, Layla had no choice but to agree with Yustar's words. For someone who had lived her entire life avoiding and distrusting people, it was an attraction so strange she couldn't understand it herself.

When they turned the mountain path and entered the village outskirts, Layla suddenly felt her spine go cold with eeriness.

The village atmosphere, wrapped in silence and darkness, was like a starving beast. She could feel it lying prostrate with its maw gaping wide to devour her.

Even after the two entered the narrow village path, the silence continued. There were almost no windows with light seeping through, and every house had firmly locked their doors.

Without exception, dried pomegranate flowers and camphor tree branches were densely attached to the outside of doors, and some houses even hung the corpse of a dead lamb upside down.

The few livestock in the sheds were drawing out painful cries, as if they hadn't been cared for in a long time.

"They're using very old exorcism methods, all of them."

Yustar looked with interested eyes at the corpse of the lamb emitting a foul stench. Layla turned her gaze away to avoid seeing that horrible thing and curtly responded.

"They're all things with no effect whatsoever. To think they can block ghosts with just those things—it's foolish."

"From the way you say that, it seems you've tried it?"

Layla's lips pressed into a line again. She kept silent for a moment, then said.

"I've never killed a lamb. I don't have money to buy a lamb anyway."

"Dried pomegranate flowers and camphor branches do help. However, they must be hung the right way. Consecration helps even more, but come to think of it, there's no church visible in this village."

"It's a very small village."

And an isolated place. Layla thought.

Ridgecarse village was a place isolated from the outside. Of course, as Yustar had done, people from outside could actually enter and leave the village, and going out from the village was also free.

But no matter how much people came and went, the peculiar sense of isolation in Ridgecarse village never disappeared. Like...

'A place like a stagnant puddle rotting because the water flow is cut off.'

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Layla looked around with an even more anxious expression.

Beside the houses with lights out and doors locked, she saw wooden grave markers that hadn't been made long ago. And there weren't just one or two... The traces of dug and re-covered holes were too small. These weren't places where adults were buried.

Yustar could also see everything Layla saw, but he walked with large strides as if he had determined a destination, without any sign of fear or tension.

Yustar, who had walked for quite a while as if circling the village, stopped his steps at the backyard of a house standing in an isolated spot.

Through a window too blurred to see inside, dim light flickered. It seemed someone was walking around holding a candlestick.

The moment the light moved, Yustar and Layla could see a grave marker made in a corner of the backyard. It was also newly made, and the spot covered with earth hadn't even hardened yet.

"This place will do."

Yustar said. It was hard to tell whether he was speaking to Layla or muttering to himself.

Layla stood a few steps away, simply watching silently what he was doing. In fact, that was all she could do, and it was also the best option.

He reached his hand into his bag without minding the darkness where one couldn't see even an inch ahead, and took something out.

What glinted briefly under the starlight seemed to be a glass bottle, but when Yustar gripped it tightly with his palm, what was inside glowed palely.

"What is that?"

When Layla asked, Yustar slowly exhaled and loosened the grip of his palm. Then, without answering her question, he opened the bottle lid and poured what was inside over the grave marker.

What is he doing?

Layla watched him and the unidentified liquid flowing down onto the grave marker with the feelings of a child who knows nothing. The blunt surface of the grave marker carved from wood turned black as if absorbing the darkness.

Suddenly something appeared from the center of the grave marker.

Layla was too shocked to even scream. Very small, far too small and white handprints were covering the grave marker. At an unbelievably fast speed, and she could even hear sounds like living human flesh slapping and pattering against stone.

It filled densely as if it would instantly crumble the grave marker and collapse the earth piled over the coffin.

"Good God."

Layla's foot, which had drawn in breath, caught on something. With a loud clatter, she saw a long stick rolling on the ground.

Layla realized she had bumped into a stirrer. Whatever was inside would have all spilled out, but she didn't care.

Now her attention was completely captured by the handprints that had passed the grave marker and begun stamping as if fleeing toward the dark forest.

"This, this is."

Yustar glanced at Layla.

"What is this, exactly?"

The question that had been stuck like a stone in her throat barely squeezed past her lips. It was a pathetically trembling voice.

Yustar said.

"It's traces left by the cause."

"Traces, you say..."

That was when it happened.

—Crash!

At the suddenly heard sound, Layla let out a small scream. She instinctively grabbed her skirt tightly and moved closer to Yustar.

"What bastard is this!"

Wheezing breath was heard, and the stench of strong alcohol wafted. The male homeowner thrust a greasy lamp toward Layla and Yustar.

At the same time, Layla saw what he held in his hand. A club large enough to strike down even an ox in one blow.

"You witch!"

The man's neck bulged with veins ready to burst. He threw down the lamp and raised the club to smash Layla's head. But before he could even take a step, Yustar's hand sliced through the air with a whoosh.

"AHHH! What, what is this! You witch! What did you do!"

Smoke black enough to swallow even the night's darkness obscured the man's vision. While he floundered, Yustar grabbed Layla's hand and began running in the opposite direction.

No, it wasn't running. It was almost as fast as flying. Layla realized her toes weren't touching the ground.

"You witch! Where did you go! You think you'll be safe after killing my daughter! I'll gouge out your eyes too! I'll smash your head! Come out!"

The man's bellowing voice shook the quiet village.

But neither his house nor his figure, not even the light from the thrown lamp was visible. As if a layer of darkness had been overlaid on darkness, as if only that part had been subtly erased.

"What was that just now?"

Layla shouted. The speed was so fast that the sound of wind passing by her ears was like arrows being shot. But Yustar answered as leisurely as someone enjoying a stroll.

"That's something called 'Borrowed Night.'"

"A magical artifact? You didn't kill him, right!"

"Of course not. It just blocks vision for a moment. The duration isn't long either. It's still in the testing phase."

Only after entering deep into the forest did Yustar finally slow down. It was a sudden and quiet change.

For a moment Layla thought time had stopped, but when she looked back, that wasn't it. She was simply walking slowly while almost held in his arms.

The small handprints identical to what they'd seen on the grave marker continued even deeper. Some were spread as if blood had been spilled. Yustar stood before the last handprint and made a hmm sound.

"The traces end here."