Randia and Viena gathered their belongings in silence, the quiet efficiency of their movements betraying a shared fatigue. The church, once filled with groans and murmured prayers, had settled into a calmer rhythm, as though the worst of its burdens had been temporarily lifted. With their work concluded, only one matter remained—payment.
They were just about to seek out the head priest when soft footsteps approached from behind, measured and unhurried against the worn stone floor.
“Mr. Ran.”
Randia turned slightly. “Father Klaus. We were about to take our leave.” His tone remained polite, though a faint edge of weariness lingered beneath it.
“Is that so?” Klaus smiled, the expression warm in a way that felt almost practiced, yet not entirely hollow. “That is a shame. Our disciples have spoken very highly of your work.”
“We appreciate the sentiment,” Randia replied. “But time is short, and supplies even shorter. We barely have enough to feed ourselves today.” His voice remained composed, though the admission carried a quiet bluntness. “Still, we are grateful to have been of service.”
Klaus’s gaze drifted toward Viena, softening further as it settled on her. There was a gentleness there, something that instinctively put the girl at ease despite the lingering tension in the air.
“Pardon me, little lady,” he said kindly. “May I have a moment to speak with your dad?”
Viena nodded without protest.
“Wait here,” Randia instructed, placing a hand atop her head in a rare, absentminded gesture of affection. “And keep an eye on the bag.”
As the two men stepped aside, their voices lowering into private conversation, Viena was left alone in the stillness. For a brief moment, she tried to remain obedient, standing beside the bag as instructed. Yet curiosity, as always, proved the stronger force.
She crouched and opened it.
At first, she searched for the familiar—the dried herbs, the peculiar thread Randia had used to bind bone and flesh. But instead, her fingers brushed against something else. Something carefully hidden.
A small, tightly sealed bottle, wrapped in in cloth inscribed with symbols she could not read, lay hidden among the items.
It looked ordinary at a glance. Yet the moment she brought it closer, she noticed something was different. Within the glass, a faint wisp of smoke curled and shifted, as though stirred by an unseen breath. Intrigued, Viena leaned in, her gaze narrowing.
The smoke thickened, coiling upon itself with a slow, deliberate grace. Then, through its shifting veil, something emerged—an amber eye, gleaming with a quiet, terrible awareness.
It was looking at her with a haunting intensity.
The world seemed to narrow, sound receding into a distant hum. That eye held her, with an irresistible invitation—an invisible pull that coaxed her closer, deeper, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
Suddenly, Randia’s voice tore through the fog of her fascination.
"VIENA! NO!"
Before she could even react, Randia was at her side, pulling her away from the bottle with a fierce urgency. His hands were on her face, shutting her eyes firmly as he pressed her against his chest, shielding her from whatever effect the bottle had on her. His voice was sharp, commanding, yet laced with a thread of fear that Viena had never heard before.
"Viena! Look at me, kid! Look at me!" Randia repeated, his hands gripping her face with a force that wasn’t cruel, but insistent. He shook her gently, tapping her cheek as if trying to bring her back from a trance.
Viena blinked rapidly, struggling to clear her mind from the disorienting pull of the smoke. Her head felt heavy, like she had been caught in a dream she couldn’t escape. She was greeted by his worried face and his distinct nasolabial fold. Before she can say anything, Randia puts her head on his shoulder.
“Thank goodness…,” he murmured under his breath. “Thank goodness.”
She had never seen him like this—never so shaken, never so openly relieved. Nor had she felt such warmth, not since the faint, fading memories of her mother. It left her uncertain, caught between comfort and confusion. However, the moment did not last.
Randia pulled back, his expression hardening almost immediately. His eyes narrowed, not with cruelty, but with restrained frustration.
"I told you to look after the bag! Not to tamper with it! Are you a deaf or a fool?!"
Viena lowered her head at once, guilt washing over her.
“Is something the matter, Mr. Ran?” Father Klaus approached, his tone calm but attentive.
"… No. We're sorry for making a scene."
Klaus regarded them both for a moment, then smiled faintly, "Caring for a child is rarely simple,, especially the bright ones. However, the Holy Mother has promised no less than the heaven's door for those who are patient in their path and gallantly endure such trials."
Randia offered no reply.
Not long after, their farewells were exchanged. Gratitude was given, blessings murmured, and the matter of payment settled without ceremony. Yet as they stepped out of the church, an awkward silence settled between them once more—thicker than before, weighted by what had just transpired.
They walked together through narrow streets and over worn bridges, their hands clasped as they navigated the uneven paths. For a time, neither spoke.
At last, Randia stopped.
His grip on her hand tightened slightly.
“What did you see?” he asked.
Viena looked up, confused. “Huh?”
“The bottle,” he clarified. “What did you see inside it?”
She hesitated. “…I think… I saw an eye.”
Randia exhaled sharply, the sound carrying more than simple irritation. His expression darkened, though the emotion beneath it was harder to name.
"Careless. Ignorant. Naughty. Do you even understand what would happen if I were to come late even for a second?"
“I’m sorry, Ran…” she said quietly, staring at the ground.
He said nothing more for a while, resuming their walk. His silence is filled with thought and restrain. He keeps telling to himself to understand that children were unpredictable by nature. They reached for what they did not understand. They tested boundaries without knowing their weight. Unreadable and full of surprise, for better or for worse.
Eventually, he spoke again.
"... Do you want to know what that is?"
Viena nodded, though cautiously this time.
Randia stopped, then lifted her into his arms. She settled against his embracing arm instinctively, her earlier tension easing just slightly. He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper.
“The thing you saw… is a living creature. A very powerful being that I can't even risk someone eavesdropping on us."
"Is it that strong?" Viena started to get curious. she asked, curiosity rekindling despite herself.
"Yes"
"Stronger than you?"
"Yes, stronger than me," the answer came without hesitation.
"Many of my friends died fighting it. Yet, even so, we couldn't even manage to destroy it."
That seemed to settle something in her, replacing curiosity with a quieter, more cautious interest.
"Does it have a name?"
Randia closed his eyes briefly, as though searching through old, unwelcome memories. Because even by his standards, the thing in the bottle was one of the most troublesome being he had ever encountered.
"It has many names … The Night Whistler, The Wish Giver, The Singing Snake."
"But according to the earliest record of its existence, its name is …."
Viena is waiting in anticipation. She is waiting for Randia to finish his words. The light in her eyes is flickering in curiosity, and nothing can make her blink. She even clenches her fist and holds her breath. However, the man keeps walking in silence. He did so for so long until the little girl finally lost her patience.
"ISH! Why are you stopping halfway?! Do you want me to have sleeping trouble?!" Viena yelled and tweaked Randia's ears.
"Actually, it's the other way around. There is a possibility that you will have trouble sleeping if I were to tell you. That's why I'm not sure whether it's a good thing to tell you or not."
"You better not leave me hanging, or I will put a ton of dirt in your mouth when you are asleep!"
Randia took a deep breath. His hand holds Viena a little bit tighter, and he walks faster. Hesitation surfaced in his face and wariness in his actions.
"The Primordial Demon of Temptation; Syamrin," he whispered.
"… Syamrin? Temptation? What does it do?"
“It manipulates desire,” Randia said quietly, “It toys with emotion, twists intention, and leads people into actions they believe are their own.”
His grip on her tightened ever so slightly. "It used to be picky with its target. But now that it's reduced to this, it will take anything as its host to nourish its power, be it an elder, a woman, or a brat like you."
Viena cracks a little laugh a while after, and it makes Randia a little bit annoyed.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Well, I mean, isn't it basically what a con artist would do? And it sounds like a desperate one!"
"This thing you refer to as … 'Con Artist', little one, is more than capable of making the strongest bonds turn against each other. Fellow blood brothers at each other's throat, the most loving wife at her husband, and even mothers and their babies."
"R-Really?"
"Yes. That's why I am astonished to see you taking this so lightly."
"You know I don't mean it that way. I was just ..," feeling at fault, the little girl plays with her hair while looking away. "Anyway, how did the demon do its trick?"
"Through voices and suggestions. But the most often, dreams."
Viena thought that the demon would be more like a sly dealer that roams around offering contracts that would take a person's soul as its price. Such a story is more familiar to her since her late mother used to tell her a scary story every time she stayed up too late. She remembered all of it as if it were yesterday.
"Not through a contract with a tempting offer?"
"No, of course not. Contracts impose limits — both to the demon and the user. On the other hand, the demons of the highest caste such as this don't bind their power through something like that. They were a lot more sinister."
“…Demons?” she echoed. “Plural?”
"I mean exactly what I said."
"So there is more than just the one in the bottle?"
"... There are five of them."
By then, they had reached a modest eatery. The scent of cooked food drifted through the air, grounding them both in the present. Both are dying for lunch since working in the church saps their energy away. Especially to Viena, since she had never thought that they would perform such duties in a church.
“You don’t need to worry,” Randia added, his tone softening slightly. "I've told you before, I can see things that people don't. Fortunately, you are safe. But don't you ever pull such a silly stunt again, do you understand?"
Viena nodded, visibly relieved.
"Hm. Now, let's eat."
"Okay! I feel like eating a lot today!"
It is indeed a hearty lunch for them, especially for Viena. Since this is the first time the little girl has worked for her share, everything she eats tastes a thousand times better. Randia finished first and had a little chat with the tavern master. Since Viena is eating right at the counter, she can more or less listen to what they are talking about.
She noticed that at first, Randia was only exchanging pleasantries with the tavern master, but after a few more glasses of drink, he started to make his way to the answers he sought.