Chapter 3. What Should Not Be Seen (3)
December 3, 2023
Despite Laila’s barrage of questions pouring down like a torrential rain, the man calmly spread his hands. It was a gesture meaning: one at a time.
When he gave a gentle smile, Laila felt a chill down her spine and an inexplicable flutter in her chest.
“Let’s take it step by step. First, my name is Ustar. As for where I came from… well, it’s hard to say exactly. I wandered from place to place looking for you and eventually arrived here.”
“I’ve never seen you before. And you haven’t seen me either.”
Laila replied sharply, her voice full of suspicion. The man—Ustar—nodded slowly, resting his chin on his hand as if this were all expected.
“Of course, we’re meeting for the first time. But to be precise, I’ve been watching you for a long time.”
A shiver ran through her. Watching me?
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Oh, but don’t worry—it’s not like I’ve been spying on your every move. I’ve been watching your… well, let’s call it life force. Your vitality as a witch. And your power.”
He seemed to be trying to explain sincerely, but Laila’s thoughts only became more tangled.
So what exactly had he been watching? And how? None of her questions were truly answered. Still, Ustar looked genuinely puzzled that Laila remained confused.
“You don’t understand what I mean?”
“Do you really think I would?”
Ustar blinked a couple of times. His clear, pale green eyes—like young barley fields in spring—reflected Laila’s image unusually vividly.
That ominous black hair. Those red eyes, like blood droplets. Clear evidence that she did not share human blood. Laila looked away uneasily.
“It’s a magic tool. You know what those are, right?”
“I do. But the only magic tools I know are ones that can predict the weather.”
“Well, that’s rather…”
Ustar trailed off and gave a short chuckle.
“You’re not quite the witch I imagined. What about earlier—when you threatened to dry out my tongue?”
“That wasn’t a magic tool. That’s just something I can do with tincture. Just one drop in your tea.”
“That’s scarier than any magic tool.”
Ustar joked, but Laila ignored the comment.
“Anyway, whatever kind of witch you imagined, my mother didn’t leave me any magic tools. Aren’t those things for wizards, not witches like us?”
“That depends on how you see it. Regardless, I found you thanks to this.”
He reached into his bag and pulled out something round.
It was a red orb, about the size of two grapes. White, thin lines—cracked or perhaps stained—ran across its surface like veins.
As Laila reached out toward it, the orb in Ustar’s palm rotated. Like grape skin splitting open, the surface cracked apart, and from within emerged an eye—complete with an iris and a black pupil—that stared directly at her.
“Ah…!”
Laila jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair and stumbling back. Ustar calmly returned the orb to his bag, unfazed by the horror on Laila’s face.
Still trembling, Laila asked, “Just now… what was that? That’s a magic tool?”
“Yes. Wizards call it a ‘Laning Lore,’ but we just call it an ‘eyeball.’”
“We?”
Ustar shrugged and casually changed the subject.
“That chain you saw earlier is also a kind of magic tool. But it’s different from what wizards use. It’s been sanctified—for driving out spirits, monsters, things like that.”
“You’re a monster hunter?”
“No, not just that. I deal with more than monsters.”
He tapped his fingers on the table, lost in thought. He seemed to be either searching for the right words or regretting something.
“Laila, you know what a ‘Sink’ is, right?”
Laila responded, “The black hole thing?”
“That’s what it’s called around here?”
“Most people call it that. So you’re talking about those places where ghosts supposedly pour out?”
Ustar tilted his head slightly and smiled. The dull sunlight at the window shimmered like grains of sand on his long, bright hair. Laila stared at him in a daze before shaking her head.
“I don’t believe in things like that.”
“With those eyes? You don’t believe in ghosts? That’s interesting.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant I don’t believe in those black holes. The idea that the ground opens up and ghosts come out? No, I don’t think so. Since you keep talking about my eyes—I’ll say this: ghosts don’t crawl up from underground. They don’t pop up like mushrooms. They just… they’re just there. When you turn your head, they’re there. When you open your eyes in the middle of the night, there’s a woman with a twisted neck standing by your bed, staring down at you. My mother said she was one of our ancestors. Hanged for being a witch.”
As Laila’s voice rose with emotion, Ustar gently interjected.
“You’re right. That’s how most ghosts are. But very few people can see them. However, a ‘Sink’ isn’t like that. Laila, you seem to think a Sink is something like an earthquake that splits the ground. But that’s not how it forms. And it doesn’t take that shape.”
Laila realized she needed to ask the most important question.
“Even if all that is true, why do I need to know? Why did you watch me with that… eyeball or whatever it was?”
A smile crept across Ustar’s lips. The curve of his eyes and mouth, the soft green gaze—everything about him was chillingly enchanting. For a moment, it felt like she was looking at something not quite human.
What is this feeling? Something’s wrong…
Laila rubbed her forehead and sat back down. The old rocking chair creaked under her light frame, as if even that burden was too much.
Then Ustar spoke.
“Rather than explain, it would be better to show you.”
“…Show me what?”
“Everything. What’s happening in this village isn’t a disease. There’s no such thing as a sickness that makes eyes melt away like snow. You didn’t really believe that, did you?”
Laila’s lips pressed into a thin line. Ustar smiled again and added,
“I’m sorry, but can I stay here until tonight? It’ll be much easier to find what we’re looking for after dark.”
Laila clenched her fists as she leaned against the chair’s worn backrest. At some point, she had started rocking back and forth, the squeaking echoing like it had when her mother was still alive.
She stared at Ustar and asked,
“If we wait until night… does that mean we can fix this strange illness?”
“Well, it’s not really an illness, so ‘fixing’ isn’t quite the right word. But yes. In a manner of speaking. We’ll be trying to eliminate the root cause.”
The root cause.
The villagers believed that Laila was to blame for the children whose eyes seemed to melt away like soft mud. When the first two children died, their parents nearly tore down her front gate.
And each time another child died, the villagers came with blades and pitchforks, ready to attack her like wild beasts.
Once the number of dead children passed ten, it was like they no longer had the energy to even come for her…
Laila took a deep breath, as if she’d just finished running.
“Alright.”
She bit her lip and tightly gripped the round ornament on the chair’s armrest.
“Alright. I’ve been wanting to know what’s causing this too.”
Music was playing. Somewhere in the distance, like an old music box turning, with a rusty metallic sound between the notes.
What song is that? Laila wondered. She was sure she’d heard it before, but couldn’t remember where.
Her mother had never sung her lullabies. She sobbed more often than she sang.
—His face was… and he was…
Someone was singing to the melody. The old music box grew louder, and for a moment, it felt like Laila’s body floated into the air.
“Wake up, Laila!”
Pop! It sounded like a balloon bursting in her head, and Laila’s eyes shot open.
She gasped, looking around. It was pitch black. Not even a candle was lit. She must have dozed off while watching Ustar, who now sat still as a statue, breathing slowly.
“…Is it night already? How long did I sleep?”
“Quite a while. We need to go. If we’re any later, it’ll be a problem.”
His tone was firmer than earlier. Almost commanding. Laila didn’t like the change, but she stood without protest.
Just before stepping outside, Ustar glanced back at her chair and said,
“You should avoid falling asleep in that chair from now on.”
Laila frowned.
“Why?”
But Ustar only smiled and didn’t answer.
The two of them walked into the dark mountain path. As they walked, Laila reached out and grabbed Ustar’s shoulder, sensing something was off.
“Wait. This path… this leads down to the village.”
