Even without having seen it before, Pierrot knew what meaning that symbol carried.

An upside down cross–courtesy of the Church of Absolution.

Holding this emblem could only mean one thing.

Head close to the ground, unable to gaze upward with those blinded eyes to lower the sinners from acting like a god. Both arms spread out horizontally, laid bare and vulnerable in the face of justice, showing the condemnation they should accept.

But everyone knew the true meaning carried by that symbol.

A symbol of hatred thrown at the sinners.

A symbol of humiliation given to the sinners.

A symbol of fear felt towards sinners.

Those who bore this emblem acted like their jury–giving judgments–and executioner–giving salvation–with their own two hands. It was their belief, after all, that such creatures should be broken free from the shackles of this world. Dirtying their hands with blood was a small price for their acts of mercy and kindness.

And now, in front of such insignia, Pierrot’s expression turned grim. He broke into a cold sweat, something he wished the man before his eyes didn’t notice.

The eye patched man bowed down, his gentlemanly gesture didn’t lessen the gravity of the situation. Pierrot’s heart was still thumping, though he managed to control his expression from setting loose. Again, he wished that man were unaware of that.

“Good morning,” he said. “I apologize for coming without an invitation, but please believe me when I say it’s for something beyond important. And also, how rude of me for not introducing myself quicker.

“My name is Malin. I’m a Witch Hunter.”

….He didn’t even hide his identity.

Pierrot had never encountered a Witch Hunter before, so he didn’t know what the common courtesy was. Still, he found it strange for him to be so blatant–or rather than strange, it was a daring confession, as if the man before him believed he was invincible. Nothing could hurt him, and certainly not Pierrot who still found himself glued to the floor.

He displayed a level of confidence that is quite overwhelming in such a situation.

After that introduction, Malin stepped aside. Only after that did Pierrot notice another figure standing behind him. “This is my companion, Enfir. He is with me, but he is not a Witch Hunter, so don’t worry.”

So don’t worry.

Coming from the Witch Hunter himself, that statement didn’t ease any of Pierrot’s worries.

“May I know your name, sir?” Malin asked. The way he pretended nothing was abnormal about this situation weighed the already-heavy lump in Pierrot’s heart.

Alas, he didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t comply.

“....My name is Pierrot,” he said.

“Sir Pierrot! That’s a splendid name. Nice to meet you.”

With a smile on his face, Malin raised his right arm, reaching for a handshake. It was when he realized what Pierrot was lacking. The awkward moment lasted only for a second when he quickly swapped with his own left hand.

“Ahh, didn’t mean to,” Malin said. His smile, although still creepy, showed sincerity. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“It’s okay. You did not.”

A handshake transpired between them. They clenched each other’s hands while Enfir remained still behind Malin. In Pierrot’s eyes, he looked like a manifestation of shadow, trying to grasp what life is by copying how a human breathes. His presence alone muted the surrounding colors, or at least that was what Pierrot perceived with his own two eyes.

“May I know how it became like that?”

Malin asked while pointing his finger at what should have been Pierrot’s arm. He felt no reason to lie, though that question indeed came out of nowhere. Still, the details didn’t matter, so Pierrot adjusted his words as such to conceal the entire true story. Any mention of Helena, he omitted.

“It was wounded, so I had to cut it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Malin’s expression turned into that of sympathy. “I’m sure it was horrifying, but there must be a reason you’re still alive now. That’s wonderful.”

“....Thank you.”

“No no, I’m the one who must be thankful for being in your company. In truth, both of us were travelling through the battlefield south of here. Do you happen to know about it?”

Pierrot didn’t mean to, but as the words slipped out from Malin’s mouth, his entire body twitched, making a slight movement despite all the effort Pierrot put into staying still like a rock.

Was it just a coincidence? Was Malin genuine in his question? Or did he mention it to get a reaction out of Pierrot?

“I didn’t,” he lied.

“Ahh, I see. Well, it’s a blessing then. It might sound ironic, but even for my profession, the scene out there was…, awful, to say the least. Corpses mangled and blood dried–it was something that I can only describe as hellish. Isn’t that true, Enfir?”

“....”

It was scary how casual this conversation had been. Pierrot couldn’t help but avoid himself from getting too comfortable in his flow.

“So this view at your place is such a nice change from all of that. I truly–”

“I heard you. What do you want here?” Pierrot interrupted Malin’s words. He planned to hear no more. “If there’s nothing I can help you with, I need you two to leave.”

To Pierrot’s surprise, Malin’s expression changed again–not to one filled with hostility caused by his rejection but to one filled with amusement and curiosity. It gave him a shiver.

“Of course, sorry for blabbering around,” Malin said. “We’re here for something. But first, if it’s not too much to ask, may we come in?”

I shouldn’t let them in, Pierrot thought.

But he had only 2 options in this scenario: first to do the talking outside or second to do the talking inside. His utmost priority now was to stop these people from seeing Helena, and as much as it pained him, he felt the latter option would be the best option.

He had to decide quickly.

So he came down to one.

“....Sure,” Pierrot answered.

“Thank you!”

Malin was the first one to step inside, his steps carried an air of confidence. Enfir followed, always 2 steps behind his leader. And all this time, Pierrot could see this very scene unfolding before his eyes.

Then, while gritting his teeth, Pierrot closed the door, isolating the colorful world outside from the bleak cage within the cottage.

***

In each step, Helena carefully navigated her way on the terrain where she was now. She was humming along the way, a tune her master had taught her before her disappearance. The tempo, the melody, and the rhythm burned into her memory, something that wouldn’t leave her mind anytime soon.

She had lived in this scenery more times than she could count, and yet even to this day, it always brought her joy. The same view kept replaying itself before her eyes.

Tall trees towered over her height. Shadows cast by the leaves above her swayed in the wind, as if they were saying welcome and goodbye at the same time. It was serene, to say the least, as only thin beams of sunshine that could pierce through the gaps between leaves. The sound of leaves rustling was like an instrument to her humming, a music that alas would never leave this place.

Amidst her surroundings, she was the sole audience for it. That thought had always brought her peace of mind, comforting her in this loneliness from the absence of her master. Pierrot’s presence lessened that lump, but still, she was also very fond of this nature. She hopped now and then. With no one looking, unlike before, she didn’t mind being childish.

Helena was on her way to her basket. She had placed it near the edge of this forest, just hidden away in several thick bushes, concealed from everyone else who dared to roam this place except her and one other person. She was hoping to see the fruits had disappeared and swapped with a few goods she couldn’t normally get with her own hands.

And then there was one more hope of finding out the identity of this mysterious person. Truthfully, Helena was ashamed, knowing nothing about this person except for the fact that this individual was her master’s acquaintance. She had felt the shame one more time when Pierrot asked her that. Unable to give an answer had made her quite disappointed in herself, although it was something out of her control. Nothing more, however, as she wasn’t allowed to leave the forest, though she herself had broken the promise by saving Pierrot.

At least if it were possible, she wanted to see that person’s face–even better if they could strike a conversation or two, but seeing for now would be enough to sate her curiosity. She pondered over these two wishes while putting her foot in front of the other consistently, casually avoiding tripping the vines beneath her feet.

Today might be the day, she thought.

She kept walking while also imagining what she would cook for dinner later. The thought itself of her and Pierrot sharing a meal together brought a smile to her face. She had to admit that her master’s disappearance made days that came after that lonelier than before. So she appreciated the presence of such good company.

It was now just a few steps away. Just a few left and right turns around some trees and she should have seen the bushes concealing her basket.

But as she got closer, she caught a murmur–some voices were going back and forth. Hearing that, she ducked behind the nearest tree until her figure was covered. This simple act already made her heart racing, a similar feeling she experienced when she had left the comfort of her cottage and garden for the bloody landscape of the west battlefield.

Gathering her will to do something he had never tried before, she peeked from the side, just slightly pushing her face out of the cover. Beyond the trees and bushes, right outside the border of the forest, stood 5 men in total. The same number of horses were resting beside them, their leashes tied on a tree.

And at this distance, she could hear the words uttered by them.

“Even from outside, this forest looks ominous.”

“That’s Whispering Forest for you. Honestly, this is the closest I have been and I already got chills all over my body.”

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to be outside?”

“Of course it’s fine! Do you know what’s inside? It’s death. Death awaits you inside.”

“C-calm down, I was just asking,” one of them said. “I’m just curious whether he needs us for anything. At least I know that seven people are better than two.”

“No, it’s better this way. Too many people kill our element of surprise. Besides, we don’t really know anything about this place.”

“How do you know?”

“That’s what the eye-patched guy told me.”

“And what about both of them?”

The more Helena looked and listened, the colder her sweat got. Those people were wearing armor with weapons sheathed on their hips–one look was enough to deduce that they were soldiers.

“Just do what the Witch Hunter said. If one hour passed and they were nowhere to be seen, we would report it to Commander Eghwin.”

“Shouldn’t we storm in and search for them?”

“....That’s his instruction. We should just follow it. Also, are you sure you want to enter this forest?”

“Either you’re crazy or suicidal to think about that.”

As their conversation continued, Helena’s mind began to wander.

Witch Hunter.

She tried to guess what led to such a situation when it hadn’t happened before. As if trying to search for an answer, her head replayed the words that her master had told her. This was probably the hundredth time or more, and yet, she felt her entire body getting colder. This time, after all, was different.

Those words–conveyed by her master, the one rule which she had broken.

Could it be because of that? she thought.

Feeling the colors on her face fading away, she turned around. She pushed through the bushes, swinging her arms to left and right until all obstacles were moved to the sides. The rustling sound echoed until those men heard it too.

“W-what is that?!”

“Fall back!”

Though with the fear established in both their minds and souls, none of them dared to advance forward, both feet still right in the entrance of the Whispering Forest.

Helena didn’t look back. The panic brewing within her made her careless, tripping on the vines but managing to control her balance before completely falling. Her sight grew hazier with every step forward. She didn’t even realize that a protruding branch had cut her cheek. A thin line, now oozing a small amount of blood which colored her skin red. It was shallow, nothing serious, and the fright her body endured overwhelmed the pain.

Still, for the unsuspecting eyes, she looked like a maiden whose tears had turned into blood.

Once she was out of the woods, Helena ran. She passed through the colorful garden beside her, her feet kicking the dust away from her. A drop of blood flew from her cheek onto a flower–her favorite. Panting and sweating, she pushed herself to run faster than she ever had before. The uncomfortable feeling of the drenched fabric clinging to her skin accompanied every step she took. Only after she arrived at the porch, just a few meters away from the front door, did she stop and control her breathing.

Helena didn’t even have time to collect herself.

From inside the cottage, she could hear the voice of a man she had never heard before. It slipped out through the wooden cracks, muffled by the wall that had been sheltering her this entire time. Now, it tried to protect her ears from any voice that came from within.

Alas, it failed.

A question was uttered.

And her ears didn’t have any chance besides listening to it.

“You live with a Witch, don’t you?”

Her heart sank, and the warm sunlight caressing her back became a frozen dagger which slowly impaled her.