Chapter 9
Nille took a deep breath, letting the warm tingle of the scarf crawl along his neck and arms. He knew the truth: winning against a single creature had been luck, aided by the scarf's mysterious power. Facing a group of them, though… that would be suicide. A reckless, foolish ending. He wouldn't allow that, not when Granny Amparo's safety depended on him.
With quiet determination, he adjusted Granny Amparo's blanket, smoothing it over her shoulders. Then, feigning the casual air of someone stretching his legs, he rose and stepped toward the window. "Fresh air," he murmured to himself, hiding the tension coiled in his small body.
Luckily, the emergency ward was busy; nurses and doctors hustled back and forth, preoccupied with incoming patients from the road accident. Only a few staff glanced his way. That's when the male janitor noticed him.
"Hey," the janitor called, voice friendly but firm. "You should wear an ID tag. Let people know you're a patient watcher."
Nille nodded, moving toward him. The janitor handed over the tag, a simple plastic rectangle on a lanyard, and added, "Don't stray too far, okay? Remember, you have a patient to watch over."
The janitor's eyes softened slightly as he asked, "How old are you, boy? And have you eaten yet?"
Nille smiled faintly, shrugging. "I'm still okay," he replied, his voice calm.
The janitor, probably around forty, broad-shouldered and solid from years of work, gave Nille a careful once-over. From head to toe, the boy looked lean and rough-hewn: for someone his age, a worn-down shirt, old cargo pants, and cheap hiking sandals completed the picture of a child used to handling life's rough edges. Standing around five foot four, Nille carried himself with an unusual maturity, both in posture and demeanor, that made him seem far older than his eleven years.
Nille adjusted the scarf lightly around his neck, feeling its quiet reassurance. He was ready to move, to observe, to learn the creatures' patterns, but above all, he would keep Granny Amparo safe. Each step outside the room was deliberate, calculated, careful, a child moving through a dangerous world with the wisdom of someone far older than his eleven years.
The nurse stationed on that floor noticed the janitor and Nille talking quietly. She was the same nurse who had been monitoring the elderly man admitted to the room where Granny Amparo rested. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, and her expression carried the faint edge of grumpiness that often came with long, stressful shifts.
She sighed and called the janitor over. "I need your help with the seven cadavers," she said, glancing toward the hearse parked at the back of the hospital. The vehicle was still loaded, its occupants awaiting transfer. Staffing was tight that night, and even the driver needed assistance to get the bodies into the hospital safely.
"The time frame is critical," she continued, her tone pragmatic. "We have less than twenty-four hours before decomposition starts to set in. By daybreak, if we don't move them into the morgue, the smell will become unbearable. You know the rules, safety, dignity, and hygiene. No shortcuts."
The janitor nodded, adjusting his gloves and readying the stretcher and equipment. Nille watched silently, absorbing the small, grim details of the hospital's night operations. Even amidst the supernatural chaos he sensed lurking nearby, life, and death, continued with its own meticulous rhythms.
The nurse finally turned her attention to Nille. For a moment, he braced himself, expecting a scolding, but instead she smiled faintly.
"Doctor Jasmin and Doctor Miyako has a lot of admiration for you," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "She mentioned that you're smart, and can understand complex information quickly. Don't worry. This hospital might be understaffed tonight, but we have the best medical equipment and free medicine for those who can't afford it."
Nille blinked, slightly relieved, and she added casually, "If you get bored, we have a small chapel that's open twenty-four hours, and a mini library on the ground floor, to the left." She hesitated for a moment, a shadow of caution crossing her face. "Fair warning… it's near the basement door that leads to the morgue. It's a bit creepy down there."
Then, as naturally as she had spoken, she turned on her heel. "Time to do my rounds," she said, walking away down the busy corridor, leaving Nille to digest her words.
Nille adjusted the scarf lightly around his neck, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Even in the midst of chaos, he realized he was being watched over, not just by Granny Amparo or Miyako, but by people who quietly trusted him to do the right thing.
The nurse gave a small nod, as if satisfied that Nille had understood, then added casually, "If you find yourself with some free time, there's a small chapel on this floor that's open twenty-four hours. And on the ground floor, to the left, we have a tiny library. Quiet place to read or think." She hesitated for just a heartbeat, her eyes flicking toward the shadowed stairwell. "Fair warning… it's near the basement door that leads to the morgue. Some say strange things happen down there after hours. Not that it bothers anyone… but it can be unsettling if you're not careful."
With that, she turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the busy clatter of the emergency ward.
Nille adjusted the scarf lightly around his neck, feeling its faint warmth, then slowly stepped toward the staircase leading down. The dim lights cast long, wavering shadows along the walls. As he descended, he noticed faint movements in the darker corners—small, flickering figures lurking where the light didn't reach.
He didn't flinch. Over time, he had grown used to seeing such things, whether in the dream realm or awake. Most vanished when he looked directly at them, as if cautious, almost afraid. Occasionally, one would linger, curious, watching him from the shadows, testing him. Nille met their gaze calmly, letting the scarf's subtle warmth remind him he wasn't defenseless.
He felt a quiet thrill, not fear, but anticipation. This hospital, ordinary to others, carried layers of life and death, of seen and unseen. Somewhere in those dark corners, between the chapel, the library, and the stairwell near the morgue, there were mysteries waiting for him, just beyond the veil of normal perception.
Nille approached the nurse station and saw four nurses seated behind the desk, surrounded by stacks of medical charts, pens, and personal items. Three of them were busy with paperwork or talking quietly, but the fourth nurse remained perfectly still, seated on the opposite side with her back facing the others, as if lost in thought.
"Good evening," Nille greeted politely, stepping closer. "May I… visit the left corridor? The one with the chapel and library?" He glanced at the center door leading to the basement, noting the flickering lights there. Oddly, the chapel door on the right glowed warmly, and the library door on the left was similarly lit, but the hall toward the basement had only sporadic light, casting long, shifting shadows.
The two busy nurses didn't notice him, but the female nurse filing documents looked up. "What can I do for you?" she asked, her tone professional yet kind.
Nille smiled. "May I visit the chapel and the library?" he repeated.
She raised an eyebrow, amused, then glanced at her colleagues. "Of course. And… you're observant, aren't you?"
Nille pointed at the bracelets all three nurses were wearing. "Are you friends?"
The female nurse chuckled softly. "Why, yes… how did you know?"
"The bracelets," Nille replied simply.
The other male nurse turned around, adjusting his uniform. "Ah, you're right. Actually, we all graduated from the same class. This is a gift we received as a symbol of our dedication to helping those in need." He smiled. "By the way, are you planning to go to the chapel or the library?"
Nille nodded to both. "Both, actually."
The same nurse laughed lightly. "Ah, you must be that kid Doctor Miyako told us about… the one who learned Japanese in a single day?"
Nille smiled faintly. "Yes."
One of the nurses leaned closer with a playful grin. "That's incredible! Can you tutor me?"
Nille's eyes drifted slightly to the fourth nurse, still silent, and noticed she was wearing the same bracelet. He simply nodded. "Sure."
The female nurse reached into her backpack and pulled out a sandwich. "Here, take this for later."
Nille accepted it politely and bowed. "Thank you," he said softly, then turned toward the corridor.
He intended to take his time and inspect the area. Something about the basement door made him cautious; he suspected it might be locked. The nurse station was now about fifteen feet behind him when the scarf tugged gently at his side, leading him toward the left, the library. It felt purposeful, as if guiding him first.
Nille followed the scarf's gentle pull, letting it guide him quietly down the dim corridor. The faint warmth against his neck grounded him, steady and reassuring.
As he pushed open the swinging door of the library, the soft creak echoed faintly. Inside, the air felt still—too still. Rows of old books lined the shelves, their spines worn with age.
There, standing near one of the shelves, was the fourth nurse.
She faced the books, unmoving.
Nille immediately recognized her, not by her face, but by the bracelet on her wrist. The same one the others wore.
He walked closer, calm and unafraid.
Her hand was raised slightly, pointing toward a particular book. Thick. Old. Dust settled along its edges.
Nille didn't hesitate. The scarf remained still, offering no warning.
So he reached out… and took the book.
As he opened it, his eyes scanned the pages.
Folklore.
Mythological creatures. Spirits. Entities that lived between worlds.
Nille smiled faintly.
"Wow… this is great," he said softly. "You actually helped me a lot. Thank you very much."
Slowly, he turned his head toward her.
The nurse... no, the spirit, was now looking at him.
And she was smiling.
The heavy, suffocating gloom around her began to fade, like mist dissolving under morning light.
For a brief moment, silence lingered between them.
Then..
"You… can see and understand me?" her voice came, soft and distant, like an echo carried by the wind.
Nille nodded without fear. "Yes."
The spirit's expression trembled slightly, as if caught between disbelief and relief. "And… you're not scared?"
Nille shook his head. "You're not like the others."
A pause.
"The others…" she repeated quietly. "Those things… they gather near death. I've seen them. I tried to warn people… but no one could hear me."
Nille lowered his gaze slightly, gripping the book gently. "I've seen them too."
Her eyes widened. "Then… you understand."
"I'm still learning," Nille admitted. "But I can tell… you're not one of them."
The spirit let out what felt like a breath she no longer needed. "Thank you… for saying that."
She looked down at her bracelet, her fingers barely brushing against it.
"I stayed because I didn't want to leave them," she said softly. "My friends… they're still working so hard out there. I didn't want to disappear without helping, even just a little."
Nille followed her gaze, then nodded. "You helped me instead."
That made her smile again, this time warmer, lighter.
"I'm glad… at least someone noticed."
Nille tilted his head slightly. "Why did you show me this book?"
The spirit looked at him, her expression now calm. "Because you're walking a path most people can't see. You'll need knowledge… not just strength."
Nille glanced at the pages again, understanding settling quietly in his mind.
"…Thank you," he said once more, more sincerely this time.
The spirit's form flickered faintly, her presence growing softer.
"Be careful," she whispered. "The ones near the morgue… they're different. Hungrier."
The scarf around Nille's neck stirred slightly, as if acknowledging her warning.
Nille gave a small nod. "I will."
"by the way that scarf can also communicate with you right?"
" its also hungry, the moment you find what it likes to eat it will be much usefull."
For a moment, they simply stood there, boy and spirit, connected by something unseen yet understood.
The silence between them no longer felt heavy. It was… gentle.
Nille shifted the book slightly in his hands, glancing at her again. "What's your name?" he asked quietly.
The spirit seemed surprised by the question, as if she hadn't heard it in a long time.
"…Aiko," she answered after a pause. "My name is Aiko."
Nille nodded. "I'm Nille."
A faint smile returned to her lips. "I know."
He blinked. "You do?"
She gave a small nod. "The nurses talk about you. The boy who doesn't complain… the one who stays by his grandmother's side." Her gaze softened. "You remind me of someone I used to know."
Nille didn't press further. Instead, he asked, "What happened to you?"
Aiko's expression dimmed slightly, though not with fear, more like quiet acceptance.
"I was on duty that night," she began. "Same as always. Busy… tired… but happy." She let out a soft, almost nostalgic laugh. "We were short on staff, so I volunteered to stay longer. I thought… it was just another night."
Her eyes drifted toward the library door, as if seeing something far beyond it.
"Then the accident victims started coming in. So many of them… all at once. Blood, panic, people crying… calling for help." Her voice trembled faintly, but she continued. "I kept moving. One patient after another. I didn't even notice how exhausted I was."
Nille listened quietly, not interrupting.
"There was a man," she said. "He needed help urgently. I rushed to get supplies… but…" She paused. "…I slipped."
Her fingers curled slightly, as if remembering the moment.
"The floor had been wet. I hit my head. Hard."
Silence followed.
"I thought I just blacked out," she continued softly. "But when I woke up… I was already standing. Watching them carry my body away."
Nille's grip on the book tightened slightly.
"I tried to call out," Aiko said. "Tried to tell them I was still there. But no one answered." She smiled faintly, though her eyes carried a quiet sadness. "At first, I was scared. I didn't understand what I had become."
She looked down at her bracelet again.
"But then I saw them… my friends. Still working. Still helping people. They were tired, but they kept going."
Her voice steadied.
"So I stayed."
Nille tilted his head slightly. "Even like this?"
Aiko nodded. "Even like this. I couldn't hold tools anymore… couldn't touch anything. But sometimes… I could guide things. Small things." She gestured toward the book in his hands. "Like that."
Nille looked at the book again, then back at her.
"You're still helping people," he said simply.
Aiko froze for a moment… then smiled, brighter than before.
"…Thank you," she whispered.
The air in the room felt lighter.
Nille shifted slightly. "Do the others… like you… stay here too?"
Her expression grew more serious.
"Some do," she said. "But not all spirits are the same."
"when i walked this realm, i gain many information that i wont belive when i was still alive, there i things between the cracks of realty so deep and vast , its scary"
Nille already knew that.
"There are those who linger because they care," she continued. "And there are those who linger because they can't let go… or because something darker holds them."
The faint flicker of the hallway lights seeped through the library door.
"The ones near the morgue…" she added quietly, "…they're drawn to death. Not to help it… but to feed on it."
" I already saw your energy the moment you step into this hospital, and knew what you can do, " with a wink as she know what happened at the room were he and his granny Amparo was in.
Aiko smiled and giggle lightly .
"Sadly… I can't go beyond what my duties were when I was alive," Aiko said softly, her voice carrying that distant, echo-like calm. "I'm bound to this floor… this area only."
She glanced toward the library entrance, where the faint flicker of the hallway light seeped through.
"It's strange," she continued, her fingers brushing lightly against the bracelet on her wrist. "Even now… I still follow the same routine. The same paths. The same places I used to walk."
Her gaze lowered slightly.
"I've tried to go further before," she admitted. "Down the stairs… toward the basement."
A pause.
"But something always stops me."
Nille listened closely.
Aiko's expression grew faintly tense—not fearful, but cautious.
"It's not like a wall you can see," she explained. "It's more like… a pressure. The moment I get close, it feels heavy… like I'm being pushed back. As if that place doesn't want me there."
She looked at him again, more serious now.
"Or maybe… it knows I don't belong."
The scarf around Nille's neck shifted slightly, reacting to her words.
Aiko noticed it this time.
"…That thing with you," she said quietly. "It's different. I can feel it."
Nille didn't deny it.
"It lets you move freely, doesn't it?" she added.
A faint nod.
Aiko smiled, but there was a hint of concern behind it.
"Then be careful. If I'm bound to this place… and you're not…"
Her voice softened.
"…then whatever is down there won't have the same limits."
The warning lingered between them.
Quiet.
Unavoidable.
The scarf around Nille's neck stirred again, warmer this time.
Nille gave a small nod. "I've seen them."
Aiko looked at him carefully, as if realizing something deeper.
"You're different," she said. "Not just because you can see us… but because you don't run away."
Nille thought about that for a moment.
"…Someone has to stay," he replied.
That answer lingered between them.
Aiko's form flickered softly, but she didn't fade yet. Instead, she looked at him one last time, her expression calm, almost relieved.
"If you're going down there…" she said gently, "…don't rush in. Watch first. Learn how they move. Even spirits… follow patterns."
Nille nodded, taking in every word.
"I will."
Aiko smiled again, peaceful and proud in a quiet way.
"Then… I'm glad I met you, Nille."
Then slowly…
The lightness around her grew, and her form began to fade.
But this time, there was no gloom.
Only peace.
Nille lowered his gaze, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
He didn't say anything out loud.
But in his heart, he offered a quiet prayer, for Aiko.
For her peace.
For her kindness.
For the help she had given him.
When he opened his eyes again, the library felt different. Lighter. As if something had been gently set free.
He exhaled softly and opened the book in his hands.
The scarf stirred.
At first, it was subtle, the faintest movement along his neck. Then one end slipped forward, brushing against the edge of the pages. It nudged them, flipping carefully, almost deliberately, as if it knew exactly what it was searching for.
Page after page turned on its own.
Nille didn't stop it.
He watched. Learned.
Then,
The movement stopped.
The page settled.
His eyes scanned the text.
"...Gabunan," Nille read under his breath.
The word felt heavy. Ancient.
He continued.
"Often described as the oldest, most experienced, and deadliest type of aswang… capable of consuming human flesh and organs."
Nille's expression hardened slightly.
His mind immediately connected the description to what he had seen earlier—the vile creatures trailing the cadaver hearse, their movements restless, hungry… drawn to death itself.
"These things…" he murmured, "…they're not random."
The scarf tightened faintly around his neck, as if agreeing.
Nille kept reading.
"Unlike lesser aswang, a Gabunan does not merely hunt, it observes, waits, and learns. It prefers places where death gathers… battlefields, burial grounds… and hospitals."
A quiet silence filled the space around him.
Hospitals.
Nille's grip on the book tightened slightly.
"…So that's why," he whispered.
Another small movement from the scarf.
It shifted again, brushing the edge of the page.
Flip.
The pages turned once more.
Slower this time.
More careful.
As if what it was about to show him mattered.
The book stopped on a worn, older section. The paper looked more fragile, the ink slightly faded, as if copied from something far older than the rest of the text.
Nille leaned in.
At the top of the page was a title, barely legible.
"Fragments of Unknown Relics…"
Below it, a rough illustration, torn, incomplete, depicted what looked like flowing cloth, not unlike a scarf, but longer… layered… almost alive.
Nille's eyes narrowed slightly.
He read on.
"There are records of a garment not bound by ordinary fabric… said to be part of a larger attire worn by an unknown entity."
The scarf around his neck grew warm.
Not aggressively.
But… aware.
"This entity is referred to in scattered texts only as 'Anu.' Its true nature remains unknown. Some describe it as neither spirit nor human… but something that exists between creation and void."
Nille felt a faint pulse from the scarf.
Like a heartbeat.
"The garment itself is believed to possess will… capable of choosing its bearer. It does not serve blindly, but instead guides, protects… and, in some cases, shapes the fate of the one who wears it."
Nille slowly reached up, lightly touching the scarf.
"…So you chose me?" he whispered.
The scarf responded with a gentle, single tug.
"Legends suggest that the full garment was once whole, woven as a single piece, not by human hands, nor by any known craft. It was said to have been formed from threads that did not belong to the physical world, but from something far older… strands of intent, memory, and will itself.
However, the garment did not remain complete. At some unknown point in time, whether by conflict, sacrifice, or deliberate design, it was divided. Torn apart not in weakness, but perhaps as a necessity. The reason was never recorded, or perhaps it was erased.
Each fragment retained a portion of the original power, but more importantly… a fragment of memory. Not memory in the human sense, but something deeper, echoes of purpose, instincts that guide, and a will that does not fade with time.
These fragments are said to seek out bearers, not the strongest, nor the most powerful, but those who stand at a threshold. Individuals who exist between paths, between choices, between worlds. Once bound, the fragment does not simply serve. It observes. It judges. It grows alongside its bearer.
Over time, the fragment may reveal more of itself, its abilities unfolding not through command, but through understanding. Those who attempt to force it are often rejected… or worse, consumed by the very power they fail to comprehend.
There are also warnings buried within these accounts. When fragments draw close to one another, they may resonate… react… or even attempt to reunite. Whether this results in restoration, or something far more dangerous, remains unknown.
And at the center of all these records lies the same name, written in fading ink across countless ages…
Anu.
Nille's eyes flickered slightly.
"Those who encounter such relics often stand at the boundary between worlds, the living and the unseen. They are drawn into conflicts not meant for ordinary humans."
The air in the library felt heavier again, but not oppressive.
Foreboding.
Nille closed the book halfway, his thoughts aligning piece by piece.
The creatures.
The dream realm.
The scarf.
Anu.
"…So this isn't just happening by chance," he said quietly.
The scarf brushed lightly against his neck again, gentler this time.
Reassuring.
As if to say:
You're not alone in this.
Nille took a slow breath, then looked toward the library door, the direction of the flickering hallway… and beyond it, the basement.
Where the dead gathered.
Where the Gabunan waited.
He closed the book fully, holding it firmly at his side.
This time…
He understood a little more.