I ran.
Maybe she was still alive. Maybe there was still a way to save her. Driven by that singular thought, I sprinted toward the path leading to the base of the cliff. I tripped several times, skinning my knees and suffering scrapes, but I didn't care. I scrambled back up and kept running.
Please don't die!
I wanted to talk to her more. I wanted to stay with her longer. Logically, it was a ridiculous thought—until moments ago, I had intended to kill her. But now, I desperately prayed for her survival. I remembered her hand—rough, yet undeniably filled with affection. Despite knowing I had come to take her life, she had shown me kindness and offered sincere advice. In that short time, this nameless woman had become someone I—just like Papa—did not want to see perish.
Don't die, don't die, don't die! Please! Please don't die!!
I veered off the road and plunged into the forest. Though there was no path, I didn't hesitate; I navigated with unerring precision. I could smell it even now. A scent I never wanted to encounter, yet one that saturated the air: the thick, heavy 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥.
I finally reached the spot directly beneath the cliff where she had fallen.
"𝘏𝘶𝘧𝘧! 𝘏𝘶𝘧𝘧! 𝘏𝘶𝘧𝘧!"
Suppressing the breath that burned in my throat, I took a cautious step forward. She was there. The woman. But....
"...𝘚𝘰𝘣."
Tears blurred my vision. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the forest floor. When she had cast herself from the heights, she had worn such a peaceful smile. That merciful, saint-like expression was gone now. Like a beautiful painting ruined by a malicious hand, her face was stained by the grotesque reality of death.
Her face was a ruin of shattered bone, scattered skull fragments, and grey matter.
Her body was twisted into impossible angles, having likely struck the jagged rocks several times during the descent. I couldn't believe this was the same woman I had been talking to just moments ago. She looked like a prop from a low-budget horror film. I never imagined a human body could be destroyed so utterly.
"𝘜𝘨𝘩...!"
A violent nausea surged within me, the result of a psychological stress I had never experienced in my short life. Ah, so this is it. This is the 'Death' that is eating away at Papa.
Fear, dread, loathing, avoidance, dizziness, sickness—a tidal wave of emotions rose up and tore at my heart like a wild beast. Papa was enduring this for my sake. This was why he was sick. His heart had been hacked to pieces, and the wounds were festering!
As I began to understand Papa's burden, a new, more terrifying confusion seized me.
"Wh...y...?"
I couldn't understand why my own body was finding its composure so quickly. Despite the nausea, my stomach didn't reject its contents. A ghoul's instinct whispered that this sight was 'natural.' My human half saw only 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, but my ghoul half could see only 𝘍𝘰𝘰𝘥.
The fact that I could view the demise of someone who had been kind to me as nothing more than sustenance was the most horrifying realization of all. It was the ultimate proof that I was fundamentally different from Papa—that in their world, I was nothing more than a monster. It was terrifying, agonizing, and unbearably sad.
"𝘜𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶. 𝘜𝘞𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘏!"
I wailed. I was a child who was far more sensible than others my age, rarely crying unless something truly dire happened. But now, I poured out my grief in a scream that ripped through the trees. The woman's words had been true. Her death had left a scar on my heart that would never fade.
"𝘜𝘞𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘏!! 𝘎𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘩! 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢!! 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢!! 𝘗𝘈𝘗𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈!!!"
I called for him like a broken machine. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be held by him. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and let him shield this wounded heart. I wanted to hear him say 'It's okay.' I stumbled away from that place, moving as if possessed.
I don't remember much of how I made it back to the apartment. I have a vague memory of getting on a bus. People looked at me strangely—a lone child with no guardian at a remote stop—and asked me questions, but I don't remember answering. I probably just paid the fare and curled up in a seat, silent as a statue. It was a blessing that the bus driver didn't pry further and simply started the route.
By the time I returned home, it was early evening, the sun just having dipped below the horizon. Papa should have returned long ago; he would know I was gone.
He's going to... scold me...
I walked with leaden steps, dreading the confrontation. He had every right to be angry. I had left without a word and stayed out past sunset. He must have been frantic with worry. I didn't mind the scolding, but I was terrified of his questions. I didn't want to lie to him, but telling the truth would only hurt him more.
What was I supposed to do?
My footsteps grew heavier as I neared our building. But eventually, time marched on, and I arrived at our front door.
"...?"
I tilted my head as I looked up at our apartment. The lights were out. Had Papa not come home yet? If so, this was a chance. If I went inside now and acted as if nothing had happened, I might be able to hide everything.
I hurried into the elevator. I needed to wash up and hide my torn, dirty clothes before he arrived. I reached the door and grabbed the handle.
𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘬...
The door opened. I realized I hadn't locked it when I left. I made a mental note to be more careful next time and stepped inside.
𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱.
I froze before I could even take a full step. As I peered into the darkness of the unlit apartment, my shoulders began to tremble.
『𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥.』
The scent of blood was drifting through the house. It immediately brought back the image of the woman's corpse, and my face drained of color.
"Eh? ...Eh?"
I looked at the nameplate on the door, wondering if I'd come to the wrong apartment. It clearly said 𝘒𝘰𝘮𝘢 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘬𝘪.
But what was this? The scene inside was worlds apart from the home I had left this morning. Windows were shattered, chairs were smashed, and our belongings were scattered everywhere in a chaotic mess. This didn't look like a simple robbery. There was a sickening dissonance to the wreckage.
It looked like the aftermath of a struggle.
And then, there was the scent of blood lingering in the air. Initially, my confusion had delayed the realization, but this scent was different from any other—it was a fragrance that tickled my nose, beckoning me. I knew this scent. I couldn't possibly mistake it.
"Papa...?!!"
I gasped, lunging into the house without even taking off my shoes.
"Papa!! Papa, where are you!? Papa!!"
I called out, my voice breaking as I spiraled into panic. I tore through the rooms, searching for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Only his blood, splattered across the walls and the floor, remained.
"Papa!! Papaaaaa!!!!"
Calling his name frantically, I sprinted back out of the house and plunged into the darkness of the night streets.