“Good children must return home by five o’clock.”
A haunting song echoed endlessly. No, it wasn’t really a song. It was just a woman’s voice repeating the same words in a flat tone.
“Good children must return… by five…”
The words bounced around the tower, like they were trying to figure out where I was.
I didn’t know if it reacted to sound or light, so I did everything I could to hide my presence.
The only thing I had to rely on was a tiny candle. Its faint light barely lit up a step ahead of me. Holding onto it, I placed one hand on the icy wall and carefully descended the stairs.
‘It’s so cold.’
The wall felt like ice under my fingers.
‘But at least I have something to hold onto.’
I glanced toward the other side, where there was no railing—just endless, pitch-black darkness. One wrong step would mean falling straight down.
I pressed my feet firmly on each step as I moved, afraid of slipping.
Then, it happened.
‘Huh?’
Something tangled around my fingers. A soft, strange texture spread across my hand. While it lessened the chill, the sudden sensation filled me with dread. Especially now, as I was fleeing from the killer’s tower.
‘Just ignore it.’
It was better not to check. Yes, I’d just pass by like I hadn’t touched anything.
But even that wasn’t up to me. The thing, like roots of a living plant, twisted through my fingers and held on tightly. I couldn’t move forward unless I freed myself. To do that, I had to see what it was.
Reluctantly, I brought the candle closer. Slowly, inch by inch, the faint light erased the darkness, one small patch at a time. I knew revealing it wouldn’t make it go away, but I needed to prepare myself.
First, my second finger came into view, then my third. And what was wrapped around them was…
‘Hair!’
It was brown hair, climbing the wall like ivy and coiling around my hand. There was so much of it—enough for dozens of people.
‘Don’t scream!’
Even in my panic, reason clamped my mouth shut. Swallowing my scream, I instinctively set the hair on fire with the candle.
“Fsssshhh!”
The hair burned quickly, retracting as it caught fire.
“Ahhhhhh!”
A piercing scream rang out, shattering the silence.
“It burns! It’s on fire!!”
I couldn’t tell where the voice came from or who was screaming. I didn’t want to know.
I ran.
I didn’t want to see what the flames consuming the hair would reveal. I didn’t want to face whatever was being illuminated by the fire.
“Good children don’t speak of the vanished.”
“…Good children don’t speak of…”
“…the vanished.”
My clothes were drenched in sweat. My legs, pushed to their limit, couldn’t keep up with my frantic pace. I was slowing down, as if my body had reached its breaking point.
‘How long does this staircase go on?’
No matter how far I ran, the end was nowhere in sight. Despair welled up inside me. Was I going to die here?
Just then, I saw it—a small hand waving like a maple leaf. It opened and closed, beckoning me.
“Here! Over here!”
It was a way out of the endless staircase. My body moved before my mind could process it, reaching for that small hand.
“Do not enter the forbidden room!”
The sharp voice from behind pushed me forward.
“Do not enter!”
“Do not enter!”
I stumbled, waving my arms, but grasped at nothing. Losing my balance, my exhausted legs gave out, and I stepped into empty air. My heart sank as I fell into the abyss.
‘If I fall from here, my body will shatter to pieces, right?’
‘Will it hurt? The impact must be immense.’
Countless thoughts raced through my mind.
‘Why did I even come into this killer’s tower in the first place…?’
The tower was so tall that I had plenty of time to regret my choices as I fell.
Thud.
Finally, I hit the ground. But instead of the crushing pain I expected, there was none. Something soft cushioned my fall, turning it into a landing rather than a crash.
I wasn’t relieved. The burning smell that had filled the tower still lingered in my nose. No matter how far I had fallen, I was still in the killer’s Den.
Looking around, all I saw was darkness. I wanted to get up, but I couldn’t move. My arms and legs refused to obey, as if I were prey caught in a spider’s web.
Step, step.
Steady footsteps echoed through the darkness. The rhythm was familiar, and the sound sent chills down my spine.
Step, step.
The footsteps grew louder. He was coming closer. No matter how much I struggled, I couldn’t break free. My breathing grew ragged as panic set in.
When the footsteps finally stopped, glowing purple eyes pierced through the darkness, locking onto me. My heart stopped for a moment. Death had found me.
“Did you really think you could escape from me?”
His cold breath brushed against my cheek, as biting as a midwinter wind.
“I told you, didn’t I?”
The predatory gaze of a beast hunting its prey locked onto mine.
“You must stay with me forever.”
His hand brushed against my neck.
“Gasp!”
I jolted awake.
“A dream… it was just a dream, right?”
I checked to see if I could move my arms and legs, then reached for my neck. The icy sensation of his touch still lingered vividly.
It had been a month of these recurring dreams.
The doctor, with his useless medicine, had advised me not to worry—it’s just a dream, no need to get so tense. But he didn’t understand. He couldn’t. A man without brown hair or green eyes couldn’t possibly know that this dream might not stay a dream forever.
“What would he know?” I muttered to myself as I dragged my heavy body out of bed. I shook my head as though that could rid me of the haunting melody still echoing in my ears.
Then, I caught a whiff of something odd. My nightclothes smelled faintly of burning wood. Annoyed, I peeled them off and tossed them aside.
I reached for the glass of water on my bedside table. The cold liquid swirled around my mouth before sliding down my throat, through my esophagus, and into the hollow pit of my stomach. The sensation reassured me—I was awake now, fully awake.
“Four thirty,” I muttered.
Soon, the sun would rise. In Baynan, the day began with the sunrise, whether you lived in a noble’s mansion or a commoner’s shack. It meant it was too early to go back to bed, and too late for more sleep to matter.
And besides, if I closed my eyes again, I’d probably find myself face-to-face with that killer once more.
I threw a cardigan over my indoor clothes. It was a simple, practical outfit to ward off the cold.
“If the count saw me like this, he’d lecture me,” I thought, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t planning on seeing him today anyway.
I slipped on some slippers and left my room, heading for the storage room that I’d turned into my workshop.
“Ah, you scared me, miss! Thought you were a ghost!”
A raspy voice greeted me. It was the old gardener, clutching a rake in one hand. I nudged a half-frozen clump of dirt with my foot, amused by the man’s dedication. Even in the dead of winter, when plants were asleep, there was still work to do in the garden.
“Hardworking, isn’t he? Or maybe it’s just that old people don’t sleep much,” I thought, sparing him a glance before continuing toward my workshop.
The door to the workshop was heavy, almost as solid as the iron gates of the royal palace. That weight, somehow, comforted me. I squeezed through the narrow gap I’d opened and slipped inside.
Click.
The door shut behind me, and with it, the outside world disappeared. No more wind, no more birdsong, no more scent of dew-soaked grass or pale morning sunlight. Instead, I was greeted by the bitter smell of unfinished potions and faint traces of lingering smoke.
This was my fortress, a heaven cut off from the world. As long as I stayed holed up in here, the killer could never find me.
For the first time that morning, I felt a little more at ease.
“Miss, I brought your breakfast!”
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. It was Mary.
“Breakfast!”
I rushed to open the door.
“Good morning, miss! Today’s breakfast is warm potato soup and—”
I didn’t wait for her to finish. My eyes darted straight to what she was holding, scanning for one specific thing.
“The newspaper?” I asked.
Mary, as if expecting this, pulled a folded paper from beneath her tray.
“You can borrow it, but you’ll have to return it. The count hasn’t read it yet,” she reminded me.
Nodding, I quickly unfolded the paper and skimmed through the articles. As always, I was looking for something specific—any mention of a brown-haired, green-eyed woman. Or perhaps a mysterious disappearance, or news about the killer.
“The Great Author Fardien’s New Novel….”
“How Much Snow Will Fall This Winter….”
Nothing useful. Just trivial articles.
Disappointed, I neatly folded the paper and handed it back to Mary.
“What about rumors?” I asked.
Local gossip spread faster than any news in print, and for someone like me, who couldn’t leave the house, Mary’s updates were invaluable.
“Miss…” Mary hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.
“Come on, tell me!” I pressed. “Did you hear anything? About a brown-haired, green-eyed woman being killed?”
