After the sun had completely set and the night mist rolled over the flower field, Anoby continued his steps through the clusters of white flowers crawling toward the forest. He didn't know why, but something inside urged him: "Follow this path." Without looking back, he stepped forward, tracing the edge between the flower field and the sandalwood trees in the distance.
Dusk to Nightfall (Journey to Rhumal Village)
The gentle night breeze in the Uthala pine forest created a soft symphony of leaves, as if whispering dark secrets. The scent of moss and damp earth clung to his sense of smell. He raised one hand, touched the blindfold—just once—to ensure his vision remained perfect. After that, he continued without hesitation, stepping on the trail of tangled roots on the ground.
Rhumal Village lay in a narrow valley not far from a trickling river. When the first twig snapped under his foot, he knew there was another creature following. Several Varken—large, double-headed beasts—ran into the forest after briefly glancing at him. Anoby stood still, unmoving, then let the darkness swallow his tracks. His hardened instinct whispered: "Do not let anyone's attention fall upon you."
After several dozen steps, he arrived at the edge of a small river; the surface reflected the trembling shadows of trees under the moonlight. There, he wiped his face—he had never used the word "grateful," but the longing for fresh river water soothed his lungs. Drinking slowly, he felt his breath begin to settle.
Night in Rhumal Village (Unexpected Encounter)
A few minutes walking along the riverbank, small lights from Rhumal Village began to appear in the distance—oil lanterns flickering in the yards of wooden houses. Anoby approached, stepping softly, his body mirroring the silence that formed around him.
When he reached the edge of the settlement, a village guard—a tall, strong-built man holding a simple spear—stood before the wooden gate. He raised his spear in caution, his gaze scanning the darkness. Anoby stopped, respecting a safe distance.
"Who are you?" asked the guard gruffly. His voice like the rumble of old wood rubbing together.
Anoby said nothing—he still didn't know his name—then shrugged one shoulder, pointing to his right, as if to say he was "just passing through." The guard glanced that way, lowered the spear an inch, but his caution did not fade.
Suddenly, Hina emerged from behind the village gate. Now, in the darkness, her face looked gentle yet sharp. "Sir, let him in," she said firmly, though her voice quivered slightly. "He… will help."
The guard looked at Hina with doubt, then turned again to Anoby. After several long seconds, the spear finally lowered. "Alright," the guard sighed, "But if you cause trouble, you'll be seeing me again." He took a deep breath, stared at Anoby before stepping away.
Hina's Hut (Place of Shelter)
Inside Rhumal Village, lanterns hung from fir trees, casting dancing shadows on the thatched rooftops. Anoby followed Hina's steps—she never spoke to him, but her words seemed enough to position herself: "This is my place."
They arrived at a small wooden hut surrounded by wild wisteria. Hina opened the door—the walls barely two meters wide, inside a small hearth, a chunk of wood to sit on, and a small shelf holding tins of dried food, processed meat, and some dried fruits. The oil lamp glowed gently, creating a warm space in the chill of night.
Hina gestured for Anoby to sit on a wooden log arranged like a chair. He touched his blindfold once, then lowered his head again. Hina gave a brief nod, then busied herself at the tin shelf. She pulled out a pack of dried nuts and a piece of hard wheat bread already slightly stale. "Eat," said Hina while looking at him slowly. "Don't go hungry tonight, even if I know hunger isn't exactly comfortable."
Anoby took the dried nuts—brittle, hard, with a faint fishy smell. He chewed slowly on purpose to avoid choking. Each bite gave a thin energy that spread through his muscles. The hard bread was bitten in one go—dry and bland, but enough to fill part of his stomach. After several chews, he swallowed and sat still, watching the fire dance in the hearth.
Around him, Hina arranged five small cans of food (nuts, dried mushrooms, seed mix); some could be taken if Anoby was still hungry. But Anoby didn't take them—his sense of gratitude replaced by curiosity: what was his role in this world, and why did Hina care for him?
Night Reflection (First Dream)
When Hina closed the door and oil lamps were lit one by one, the hearth's fire radiated a warm glow. Anoby stared into the flame, feeling something inside tremble—I may have truly entered a new chapter of mystery.
He reached for his blindfold once more, gently touching its surface—not to adjust his vision, but as if seeking a certainty he had yet to understand. Hina's words echoed in his mind, wrapping around his brain with a faint whimper:
"He… will help."
The firelight blurred whatever remained in his thoughts, then slowly he slipped into deep sleep.
First Dream
In the darkness of his dream, he saw a white tower rising above a sea of mist, with a tightly locked bronze gate. A golden rope hung from the gate, waiting to be touched. A woman's laughter echoed: "Grab this rope… if you wish to know who you are." But as he lunged to grasp it, his form vanished—evaporating like wind-snapped mist.
The dream ended before he could reach the grip. He awoke with cold sweat soaking the cloth on his face, heart pounding, and the crackling fire whispering solitude.
Day 5 (Dawn Approaches)
Upon waking, Anoby found Hina lying on the wooden floor, fast asleep with the end of her hair spread across a thin pillow. He glanced at the small shelf in the corner: fresh fruit remained—a few crisp green apples and soft pears. Carefully, Anoby bit into a green apple: crunchy, sweet, and slightly sour, giving new energy. A few bites of pear added softness to his tongue—more pleasant than the previous night's meal. After eating, he stood, checked his face cloth once more, then realized the morning had turned foggy.
The newfound energy made him more alert. Hina still slept soundly. Anoby stepped outside the hut and gazed down the village path. Moonlight bathed the dirt trail. Fine dust floated in the air—feeling the chill creep over his skin.
He decided to explore the village while Hina slept—perhaps to look for clues, or simply to move, because staying still would bring no answers. With quiet steps, he left the hut and followed the path heading east, where lantern lights flickered faintly.
Information Gathering (Exploring Rhumal Village)
Rhumal Village remained wrapped in early morning silence. Fog hung low between the straw rooftops, creating the illusion that the village wasn't part of the real world. Anoby's footsteps were nearly soundless as he walked the dirt path, away from the small hut where Hina still slept.
He didn't know exactly what he wanted to find—only a faint urge in his chest: "Don't wait for answers to come, find their fragments in the cracks of this world."
On the west side of the village, he found a low wooden fence enclosing a small garden. Wild tea leaves grew neatly among clusters of herbs, and a faint aroma of ginger and mint wafted from the open window of one house. Anoby stood for a few seconds, inhaling the scent, then walked slowly through a narrow alley between two buildings.
His steps led him to a public well. An old bucket hung from a straw rope, and beside it was a flat bench, left unattended. It was there, for the first time, he heard a voice.
"Stranger?"
The soft voice came from a small girl, sitting half-asleep on the doorstep of a house. Her eyes half-open, her hair messy.
Anoby turned, but didn't approach. He simply nodded slowly in reply.
The girl hugged her knees and whispered, "If you see a black bird on the roof before sunrise… don't look into its eyes." Then she went back inside, and the door closed softly.
Anoby stood still, absorbing the words. Was it a warning? Or a fragment of a dream leaking from a child's mouth?
He continued eastward—where the last lantern still flickered. There, a wooden bulletin board was nailed to the wall of a small hall. The writing was faded, but parts were still legible:
"Lost item: single-eye pendant."
"Hunting is prohibited in the northern forest after the 7th night/Monday night"
"The Moon Banquet will be postponed."
Three simple announcements, but each word carried a heavy weight. The 7th night—perhaps an important time. Single-eye pendant—possibly related to vision. And the Moon Banquet—what does this village celebrate beneath the full moon?
Anoby took no notes, just stored everything in his mind. In his chest, questions grew like wild roots: not just about who he was, but what role this village played in a larger puzzle.
As the fog began to thin and dawn's light touched the tree tips, he turned back toward the hut. His footsteps still quiet, and the world around him still unspoken. But now, there was a faint whisper in his heart: his steps were no longer without direction.
New Direction (Morning of Day 5)
The sky wasn't fully blue when Anoby returned to the small hut. The air inside still held the warmth of Hina's sleep, and the scent of last night's burned wood hung in each breath.
He sat beside the wall, his back against the rough timber. No sound except the girl's breathing—steady, deep, undisturbed. He didn't want to wake her. Not yet.
Outside, the first birdcall rang out: short, sharp, like a cracked whistle. A small bird passed the window. Not a black bird. Still safe.
Anoby gazed toward the first light touching the floor. There, in the faint reflection of sunlight breaking through the window slits, he saw something: a shadow that belonged neither to Hina, nor to himself. Just for a second. Maybe just a fragile morning illusion.
But it was enough.
He stood up.
Not in haste. Nor with certainty. But now his steps had direction.
He wrote one line on the wooden floor, with his fingertip: "Thank you."
Not for anyone in particular, but somehow, it felt necessary.
That morning, he left the hut.
Without a sound. Without a promise to return.
At the village's edge, the path split in two.
To the left: a small road leading to tea fields that spread toward the hills.
To the right: a narrower, rockier path, leading to the forest's edge still veiled in thick fog.
Anoby paused at the fork. The wind from the forest carried the smell of damp earth, fungus, and something foreign: like burnt metal and decaying flowers. Something was calling to him from that direction, though not with a voice.
He stepped to the right.
Into the forest.
Step by step, he knew—whatever awaited him beyond the fog wasn't just about memory or power.
It was about why he was still alive.
And maybe, who already knew he had returned.
End of Part 2
The morning sky began to bloom in the eastern horizon, but Anoby had already walked far into the thick forest fog. Behind every leaf wet with dew, behind every whisper of wind, something waited—something not fully alive, and not fully dead either.
This journey wasn't just about seeking lost memories, or sealed power. It was a journey to find the reason why he still existed in a world that kept changing, where curses and hope danced in one dark waltz.
And there, in the silent depths of the forest, fate began to carve a new chapter that could no longer be avoided.