Strange whispers echoed from the depths of the darkness, their sound distorted and unsettling, as if they did not belong to this world.
"Rise… you who awaken within darkness… fear… despair… beyond the laws of life and death… the devourer of all things… even fate itself…"
The whispers continued, repeating over and over again, growing fainter with each passing moment—as if they were being slowly devoured by a suffocating silence that pressed heavily against the air.
That silence was not empty.
It was sharp. Cold. Oppressive.
And then—
The whispers vanished completely.
At the same time, Raymond's eyes snapped open as he awoke from unconsciousness.
His breathing was uneven, his body still stiff as if it refused to fully return to reality.
He found himself lying inside an old wooden room.
The structure around him looked worn and aged. The wooden walls were slightly cracked, and in the corners of the room, thick webs of spider silk stretched from one surface to another, as if the place had been abandoned for years.
Yet, strangely—
A single old oil lamp still hung from above, gently swaying, its dim light flickering weakly… but still functional.
"A-what… what happened…?" Raymond muttered weakly.
"Where… am I…?" he added, his voice low and uncertain.
He slowly pushed himself up, his head still throbbing faintly.
Raymond tried to recall what had happened before he lost consciousness.
The forest.
The monsters.
The whispers.
The pain.
But everything felt distant—blurred, as if it had been swallowed by something he could not grasp.
The only thing he could remember clearly…
…was the voice of a man.
Soft. Calm.
Asking about his condition.
Raymond's expression tightened slightly.
"…What was that…?" he murmured.
Without wasting time, he immediately began checking his body.
His hands moved across his arms, chest, and sides—carefully, cautiously.
"…Are there any serious injuries…?" he whispered to himself.
But—
There was nothing.
No deep wounds.
No torn flesh.
No sign of the brutal damage he remembered experiencing.
His breathing grew slightly heavier.
Confusion crept into his mind.
"…This doesn't make sense…"
He narrowed his eyes.
"…Was everything just a hallucination…?"
Still unsure, Raymond raised his hand and pinched his own skin hard.
(Trett… the faint sound of skin being pulled)
"Ahh—damn, that hurts…!" he hissed, his face flinching slightly.
"…So this is real…?"
Even so—
The uneasiness did not leave him.
A lingering sense of fear still clung to his thoughts, as if the boundary between illusion and reality had not fully settled.
Then—
From outside the door, faint voices began to echo.
They were soft, but clear enough.
Children.
"…Hey, they said this is the new guy…!?"
"Really!? Is that true!?"
"Whoa… you guys are so curious…!"
"Hey, hey… we'll get in trouble if uncle sees us like this…!"
Their voices overlapped, filled with curiosity and excitement.
Raymond remained silent, listening.
Then—
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Approaching.
Step…
Step…
Step by step…
(Dak… dak… the sound of feet moving closer)
"Bahh… what are all of you doing?"
A calm but firm voice interrupted.
"You'd better take your places and start
praying… unless you want demons to come and devour every last one of you."
The moment those words were spoken—
The children panicked.
Their small footsteps scattered in every direction, accompanied by faint cries and hurried movements.
Silence returned once more.
A few seconds later—
The door slowly creaked open.
(Kreeeek…)
A man stepped inside.
He appeared to be somewhat old. Fine wrinkles lined his face, and his hair carried a faint yellowish hue. His posture was calm, composed.
He wore a neatly arranged robe of pale white, almost milk-colored.
At the center of it, a golden cross symbol was embedded, faintly shining under the dim light.
It gave off an aura of authority—
…and something close to holiness.
(Wushh… a soft breeze passed through the room)
Raymond looked at him with a flat, cold expression, his gaze unwavering.
Behind the man, the last traces of the children's movement disappeared.
"…Is he from the church…?" Raymond muttered quietly.
The man walked further inside, then pulled a wooden chair and sat down in front of him.
"Hmm… let me introduce myself," the man began calmly.
"My name is Ethan. I am the caretaker of this orphanage and the small church in this village."
He paused for a moment before continuing.
"And you… what is your name? It would make things easier for us to communicate."
Raymond remained silent for a brief second.
Then—
"…Raymond," he answered shortly, his tone cold and distant.
Ethan smiled warmly, as if unaffected by the response.
Raymond's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Let's see how long you can keep that mask on…" he muttered quietly to himself.
"Ohh… so your name is Raymond," Ethan said.
"You seem like the type to get straight to the point. I was the one who found you and brought you here."
He leaned slightly forward.
"Would you mind telling me what happened to you before you arrived at this village?"
Raymond said nothing.
His silence spoke louder than words.
Suspicion lingered in his eyes.
"…Hmm, I see," Ethan nodded slowly.
"Perhaps you're still shaken by what you experienced. It's understandable."
"For now, you don't have to force yourself to speak."
Then—
A loud bell rang from somewhere outside.
(Teng… Teng…)
Raymond's gaze shifted slightly.
"…What was that…?" he murmured.
"It's time for prayer," Ethan replied calmly as he stood up.
He began walking toward the door, but stopped just before leaving.
"If you wish to join," he said,
"turn right, go straight, then head down the stairs. You'll find a door there. That's where we gather."
Step…
Step…
His footsteps gradually faded away.
Leaving behind nothing but silence.
Raymond exhaled slowly.
"…What a strange man…"
"Kind on the surface… but I still can't let my guard down…"
He slowly got up from the bed.
As he turned his head—
He noticed a mirror.
His reflection stared back at him.
His body looked better than before—stronger, more stable.
Yet, the dark circles beneath his eyes remained.
His hair was still messy.
And his eyes…
Deep blue.
Like the depths of a dark ocean.
Still carrying traces of something broken.
Faint scars were still visible across parts of his body.
"…Heh… at least I look better now…"
He stepped forward, heading toward the door.
But before leaving—
He noticed something placed beside the bed.
An apple.
Fresh.
Clean.
Without hesitation, he picked it up and took a bite.
The crisp sound echoed softly.
Then—
With quiet steps,
Raymond left the room.