Hearing Nolan’s answer, Mr. Berli knit his brows.
“Mm… then I was mistaken?”
“It’s all right. You said yourself that kind of thing is a rare exception, right? If so, how could I just run into it so easily.”
“Ah—” Mr. Berli looked Nolan up and down, took in his usual expression, and suddenly said:
“To be fair, this rough method isn’t necessarily conclusive. By the way, about that ‘sense’—aside from when the jackals attacked you, were there any other instances?”
“Other… there shouldn’t be.” Nolan shook his head.
“Think carefully. For example, the little girl you pulled from the bear’s belly—the one called Clytia—when you met her, did you feel anything similar?”
“I don’t understand… what do you mean?”
Nolan lifted his head and found Berli’s solemn gaze falling on him from above.
“This morning, Baron Norlon’s envoys came by—oh, did I never tell you about that?”
“What happened?”
“About half a month ago, a young lady from Baron Norlon’s house went missing,” Berli explained.
“You mean Clytia… is that baron’s daughter?” Nolan’s mind was quick; he grasped it at once.
“I’m saying only that it’s possible… Her name is Aelia Norlon.”
Of course… Nolan thought to himself. She was younger than him, yet well-bred and well-read, fine-featured, and seemed to command some extraordinary power that could scatter a pack of jackals—if someone like that weren’t high-born, that would be the strange thing.
“If she hid here, could it be because the baron sent people to take her home?” Nolan wondered, and his eyes strayed, unconsciously, to the haystack behind him.
“Are you listening, Nolan?” Berli coughed twice.
“I am—what does that have to do with it?”
“Well… how to put it.” Berli weighed his words. “Baron Norlon’s side says Lady Aelia ran away from home, but I heard there’s more to it.”
“More?”
“The baron’s envoy confided to me that before she ran away, Lady Aelia seems to have taken part in an illegal demonic rite. Her behavior became very abnormal. If the ‘Clytia’ you met really is Baron Norlon’s Lady Aelia, then everything that’s happened in the village is very likely her doing.”
“But how could that be? That night, Clytia clearly saved me!” Nolan shot back hotly.
“No… Nolan, think. Forget an ordinary girl—even a strong adult, could they kill that many forest gray jackals?” Berli shook his head. “This explanation, rather, fits.”
“But… she never showed malice toward me, toward me or Diya. If it’s only speculation, how can you conclude she did something evil?”
“Demons favor disguise. They love to wear masks and deceive mankind. Even if she herself has no intent to harm, the evil power behind her will lure her into darkness.” Mr. Berli sighed and went on. “But facts don’t lie. Since she came to the village, strange things have multiplied, and now there’s a death—we should have noticed earlier.”
“How could this be…” Nolan murmured, head bowed. Berli patted his shoulder as if to console him and said:
“I’m telling you this so you can set your mind at ease. After all, who could have foreseen it? Your suspicion should be cleared soon. At latest, tomorrow the Headman will let you out—and as for demonic possession… that’s not for you to worry about.”
With that, Mr. Berli brushed his black church robe and turned to leave the barn.
“Brother, I brought you food.”
Diya opened her mouth, seemed about to speak, and in the end said nothing. She silently fetched the basket from by the door and carried it in.
“Diya, I… I’m a bit all over the place right now. Don’t worry about me.” Nolan turned to his sister, but Diya only shook her head.
“Brother… I… I’ll use my strength to help everyone. You’re already badly hurt, so… take care and heal.”
With that, Diya stood and hurried away.
…
When the sounds outside faded, I wriggled out of the hay, feeling straw bits stuck all over me—face, clothes, and especially that long hair of mine.
“Ugh. Prickly.” I raked my hair with my fingers, stood up, and met Nolan’s wordless gaze.
Ah… trouble. I ran back through what I’d overheard just now. Every word pushed me toward the losing side.
“So… who are you?” The boy looked at me with those blue eyes so like his sister’s.
“Who do you think I am?” The words left my mouth and I regretted them at once. I could have spun something and muddled through for now. I hadn’t expected I’d use Clytia’s voice to say something like a little girl sulking.
“They told me you’re Lady Aelia of Baron Norlon’s house, bewitched by a demonic rite…” Nolan hesitated and said it anyway.
“Mm… Believe me or not, the name I gave you is true. Not Aelia—Clytia.” I answered offhand, thinking through plans as I spoke.
“Clytia, I want to trust you, but they say demons are good at deceiving.”
That nettled me. “Fine. If you’ve already decided that everything I say is a lie, then nothing I say matters, does it? In that case you should have exposed me on the spot—told them I was hiding behind you—and had me seized! Do you get it? That’s what you should have done!”
“And you? If you truly were something evil, why didn’t you strike just now and kill us all? Mr. Berli and Diya noticed nothing. My back was to you. If you’d had malice, not one of us would have escaped.”
Nolan answered calmly.
“You— you, you—” His reply choked me. “How can you be like this?”
“Be like what?” Nolan looked honestly puzzled.
“You… you made a huge mistake!” The Seed stirred with killing intent, and I felt my reason slipping. I stepped in, grabbed Nolan by the collar.
“Do you understand? You just left your life—and your family’s— to be decided by someone else.”
“Yes… but whatever happens, I want to hear your account—not swallow whatever someone else says and call it truth.” Nolan’s eyes went wide, and he met mine at arm’s length.
“That’s exactly what’s wrong!” I almost growled. “That’s too soft. You can’t be like that. You have to be decisive. You have to be cool and rational. You have to be cunning. You have to act first at every step. You have to, you have to…” I scoured my mind for the keywords—the traits readers love most in protagonists, distilled from a decade of web novels.
And I suddenly understood why, after losing the jackal-were last night—despite the humiliating urge to hunt—I’d still come here to find Nolan. Because I remembered that novel’s protagonist, Nolan Cyril, and the thrilling scenes he left on that vast stage of words.
Meeting the enemy head-on and overcoming obstacles; teasing out the threads and avenging kin; protecting the innocent and stopping disaster; winning a hero’s regard and a beauty’s heart—knowing it was fiction, I still couldn’t keep my blood from surging when I stepped into it.
Because this guy—carried my fantasies. Even when opening my eyes meant the four walls of a hospital ward, I still yearned for a life that blazed.
“But even if you say all that, I don’t think I’d be happy being that kind of person.”
A soft voice brushed my ear. My grip on Nolan’s collar jolted me back. What filled my sight wasn’t the handsome face I’d once imagined—tweaked from my past-life looks for self-insertion—but the real thing: a slightly immature boy’s face.
“What am I doing…” I stared at Nolan, thinking I’d been naive enough to seek his help. Even if he would be someone strong one day, right now he was undoubtedly a child—not the novel’s protagonist who always smashes through every obstacle.
“Forget it… I’m leaving… Do whatever you want.” I flexed my fingers to let him go—when his expression suddenly tightened.
“What—don’t look at me like that.”
“No. I suddenly have a bad feeling,” Nolan whispered.
A bad feeling? Worked up as I’d been, I’d neglected the world around us. Quieting myself now, I heard it—the overburdened creak of the planks overhead.
Something—on the ceiling!
I sensed it and moved to shove the boy away—but Nolan was faster. With his sound right hand he seized me and hurled himself forward—
Crash!
The barn roof caved with a roar. With the reek of blood, a ferocious figure plunged down, smashing hard into the spot where Nolan and I had just stood.
Blood-red eyes. Teeth bared outward. Muscles swelling like tumors. Gray-yellow bristles standing up like steel pins.
Over Nolan’s shoulder I saw it plain—that jackal-mad monster. No reason in those muddy eyes. Only the shredded threads of cloth on its body marked what had once been a human.