Chapter 15 : Under the Tree

Long ago, there was a little girl who learned from an early age that the world could become cruel without warning.

She did not remember the night her family was killed as one complete memory. It existed only as fragments buried in terror: the panicked voices of her parents, the sudden violence of strangers, and the sight of her parents falling beneath the weapons of bandits. She remembered hiding. She remembered waiting for the danger to pass.

More than anything, she remembered the silence that followed.

Something inside her broke that night.

She stopped speaking.

The villagers did not understand.

To them, she was simply a strange child who never responded. She did not answer when spoken to. She did not protest when scolded. Whenever an adult became angry with her, she simply lowered her head and endured it.

The girl learned that obedience was safer than resistance.

She also learned that people could hurt her even when she had done nothing wrong.

So she grew accustomed to being alone.

The village tolerated her as long as she caused no trouble. She was generally allowed to go wherever she pleased, provided she did not bother anyone. She wandered around the outskirts of the village, gathering whatever food she could find and spending most of her time by herself.

There were no parents waiting for her at home, no siblings calling her name, and no one expecting her to return at any particular hour.

For a child, freedom without affection was simply another kind of loneliness.

Then, one day, she found an injured young man.

The forest had been silent for hours—not peacefully silent, but unnervingly so. Broken branches lay scattered across the ground, their splintered ends dark with moisture. The scent of rain and blood lingered beneath the ancient cedar trees, while moonlight slipped through their branches in thin silver strands, illuminating strips of mist before they disappeared among the roots.

At the foot of a massive tree lay a stranger, motionless.

Even wounded, there was something unnatural about his stillness. His clothes were torn and stained with blood, while his black hair spread around him like raven wings. One hand rested against his side, where a deep wound disappeared beneath the fabric.

His breathing was shallow, yet his face remained cold and composed, as though pain were nothing more than an inconvenience he refused to acknowledge.

The young man opened his eyes.

For a moment, the moonlight reflected in them like a blade.

He gathered what little strength remained to him and tried to rise, but a sudden pulse of pain shot through his side, forcing him back against the roots. His fingers tightened against the soil before slowly relaxing.

His expression hardened.

The young man closed his eyes.

Then a small branch snapped somewhere among the trees.

His eyes opened instantly.

His gaze shifted toward the darkness.

Nothing moved.

Another faint crack sounded between the trees.

A small figure emerged from the darkness.

A child.

She stood at the edge of the clearing, barefoot and dressed in worn clothes that offered little protection against the cold. Her silver hair, bright as moonlight, was tangled by the wind and rain, while her blue, predatory eyes revealed the mixed blood that ran through her veins.

When she saw the stranger beneath the tree, she stopped.

Then she cautiously approached him.

The young man opened his eyes.

His golden gaze settled on her.

The girl froze.

There was something terrifying about him. Even wounded, his presence was overwhelming enough to make the air itself feel heavier.

And yet, she did not run.

All she knew was that he was injured.

That was the first time the young man and the girl met.

Night fell, and the clouds eventually cleared, revealing the pale moon overhead.

The injured young man glanced at the bamboo flask of water beside him, then remained silent.

The girl came every day after that.

She brought him water.

She brought him food.

Whenever she could, she took food from the village. When she couldn't, she searched the forest for whatever she could find.

She was a kind girl.

But he had no desire for food.

He did not need it, and he certainly had no interest in accepting some passing act of charity.

So he ignored whatever she left before him and closed his eyes.

Time passed.

Then he heard rustling among the trees.

The girl emerged carrying a large leaf in both hands. Resting upon it were several fish and edible mushrooms.

She approached him with light footsteps while his eyes remained closed.

Then she lowered her gaze and walked toward a flat patch of ground near the edge of the clearing, placing the food there.

As she always did, she left the food nearby and retreated to a safe distance. She seemed satisfied simply knowing that she had done what she could.

She turned and began walking away carefully.

The young man opened his eyes and watched her retreating figure.

“Your kindness is wasted. I don't need your food, girl.”

The girl stopped.

Then she turned to look at him.

For several seconds, neither of them moved.

She could not find the right words.

The young man simply watched her in silence.

Eventually, she withdrew and hid behind the tree, quietly watching him from a distance.

The young man finally looked away.

He had no reason to concern himself with a child.

Night passed.

Morning came beneath a pale gray sky.

The mist lifted from the forest floor, leaving droplets of water clinging to the grass and leaves. Weak sunlight filtered through the branches, scattering patches of gold across the clearing.

The young man opened his eyes.

The girl was gone.

He remained still for a moment, looking across the empty clearing.

Then he noticed something beside the tree.

A small bundle of wild herbs lay on the ground.

His gaze lingered on it for a long while.

His expression revealed nothing.

One day, the girl was caught searching through the village's fish ponds.

She wanted something to bring to the young man.

The villagers found her in the darkness, carrying torches as they surrounded her.

“I knew it.”

“Come on. Grab that thief.”

They paid no attention to her reason.

To them, she was nothing more than a child taking something that did not belong to her.

The punishment was immediate.

Several men surrounded her and began kicking her.

“You should be grateful that we even allowed you to stay in our village.”

“An orphan with monster blood…”

One man grabbed her by the collar and slapped her across the face.

“After everything we've done for you, this is how you repay us? By stealing our food?”

“Don't you ever do this again.”

The girl endured it without protest.

When they were finished, she rose and walked away from them, her body covered in bruises.

“What a frightening girl. She doesn't even show fear or remorse.”

A man beside him scratched his head in discomfort.

“Can't really blame her. Her emotions went numb after bandits killed the couple who had taken her in after finding her in the forest.”

“Damn it. Why did she have to resort to stealing?”

The girl returned to the forest.

Her clothes were dirty.

Her face was bruised.

But she was carrying food she had managed to gather herself.

The young man remained leaning against the tree with his eyes closed.

“Why did you come back?”

The girl hurried toward him, knelt beside him, and held out the food with both hands.

“I don't want anything from you. Don't you understand?”

The young man paid no attention to the offering.

The girl lowered her head sadly.

Then he suddenly asked,

“How did you get those bruises?”

The girl raised her head and looked at him.

For a moment, she seemed surprised.

“Don't answer if you don't want to.”

The young man turned his head slightly and watched her.

Their eyes met.

Perhaps it was the first time in a very long while that someone had looked at her injuries, cared enough to notice them, and asked how they had happened.

A faint smile spread across her swollen face.

It was a bright smile.

Spontaneous.

Almost impossibly happy.

He had expected an answer.

Instead, he received a smile.

His brow furrowed slightly in irritation.

“Why are you smiling?”

He could not understand what had made her so happy.

“This is curiosity, not concern.”

The girl did not understand why he was so confused.

To her, the reason was simple.

Someone had looked at her and noticed that she was hurt.

That alone was enough.

When the girl returned to the village, hopping along happily, she immediately noticed that something was wrong.

“Run!”

“Hurry! Monsters!”

“Monsters!”

The villagers were fleeing in panic.

Fear seized her.

Painful memories surged back—bandits, violence, helplessness.

She could not move.

The villagers were in chaos.

A tribe of Demon Wolves had descended upon the village.

The girl remained frozen for a moment.

Then instinct took over.

She ran.

She fled the village and into the forest.

The wolves followed.

She kept running until her legs could no longer carry her.

The trees blurred around her.

Branches struck her face.

Her breathing grew ragged.

She stumbled.

The wolves caught up.

The girl fell.

In her final moments, she did not think of the village.

She did not think of the people who had beaten her.

She did not think of the monsters.

For one terrifying moment, she thought of the injured young man beneath the tree.

The stranger who had frightened her.

The stranger who had noticed her bruises anyway.

Then the wolves attacked.

And everything went dark.