Huahh… it feels so unbearably sleepy waiting for midnight. I've even paced around this inn countless times, trying to do whatever I can to avoid falling asleep. I chatted with a few people who were still awake downstairs, but even that small talk did nothing to ease the boredom hanging in the air.
Time feels like it's moving so slowly, as if the clock hands are purposely mocking me.
Couldn't we just do this mission now? I glanced at Liam, who had been fast asleep on his bed since earlier this afternoon. The man didn't move at all, only letting out occasional murmurs like someone dreaming. I even wondered whether he was really asleep or just pretending. Ah, forget it. Maybe I'm too tired to think about it.
Lazily, I propped my chin on the table, staring out the window. The moon had been hanging in the sky for a while, its light piercing through the thin curtains and casting long shadows on the wooden floor. The clock on the wall showed eight at night—still a few hours before the investigation would begin.
I let out a long sigh. "This place is too lively for a village that's supposedly haunted," I muttered softly. Through the window, some villagers were still walking around—some carrying lanterns, chatting casually under the moonlight. There was not a trace of fear on their faces.
So strange.
I chuckled quietly, laughing at myself. "Heh, I'm underestimating things again. Just wait… something weird is bound to happen after this."
Before I could finish my thought, a loud BRAKK! echoed from the door downstairs. The sound of something slamming made my heart nearly jump out of my chest. I stood up instantly, whipping my head toward the noise. One of the inn workers—the older sister the same one Liam had teased earlier—looked panicked. She rushed toward the main door and locked it tightly.
She even dragged a large wooden table and pressed it against the door with all her strength. Her body shook violently, sweat dripping down her temples.
I hurried over, trying to help brace the table from inside. The pounding from outside grew louder, as if something—or someone—was trying to break in by force.
"What's going on? What happened?!" I asked quickly, my voice nearly trembling.
The woman swallowed hard, her voice broken as she answered.
"Every night it's always like this… The village chief told us to lock the doors and barricade them if needed. We… we're only doing what we were told!"
I froze. Every night…?
How is it possible that no one reported this? Did the captain purposely not tell me?
Curiosity mixed with fear pushed me to bend down and peek through the small keyhole. And that was when I regretted it.
The figure outside… wasn't human.
Its face had twisted into something indescribable: its skin a bluish-black, its eyes barely clinging to their sockets, the eyeballs pitch black like flowing ink. Its mouth hung open wide, displaying rows of broken teeth and dried blood on its lips. It kept ramming the door with strength no normal human should possess.
Our eyes met.
In an instant, my body froze. My breath hitched, my vision shook. I immediately stumbled backward, my back hitting the wall behind me.
Hiiiy!! This is terrifying, please…!
I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
The woman beside me grabbed my shoulder, trying to calm me even though her own hands were trembling.
"M-Mister… p-please calm yourself…" she whispered, but her face was pale. I could see the same fear reflected in her eyes.
No, my body wasn't shaking from exhaustion—it was pure terror.
What should I do now?
Should I wake Senior Liam? No… no! I'm not sure that's a good idea. That man looked like he'd murder anyone who dared disturb his sleep.
I slapped my cheeks lightly, trying to focus.
"Hahh… calm down, Peter… you're a worker, this is your job!" I muttered. "You have to handle this… this is a low-level spirit, it shouldn't be hard. It shouldn't…"
But the more I tried to convince myself, the louder the pounding outside became, each strike closer, as if the spirit knew I was right behind the door.
BRAK!
BRAK! BRAK!
The wood began to crack.
The air suddenly turned biting cold.
And from the gaps in the door, a rotten stench, like decaying flesh, seeped into the room—thick enough to make me want to vomit.
The pounding grew harsher. Each blow felt like a small earthquake shaking the entire inn. My heart thrashed wildly in my chest, beating so fast it hurt my ears. I had no choice.
"Hide!" I shouted to the older sister, my voice nearly breaking. She stared at me for a moment, hesitant, then quickly crawled under the table, holding her breath as her body shook uncontrollably.
I frantically scanned the area—no weapon anywhere except… a broom. Dear God, ridiculous, but I grabbed the wooden handle like it was the most precious item in the world. My hands were slick with sweat, trembling so badly the broom almost slipped.
Brak! Brak!
The loud pounding returned. The door hinges groaned before—BRAKK!—the door burst off its frame, slamming into the wall.
Cold wind surged into the room, stabbing my skin, carrying a foul odor so strong that my eyes watered. The smell… a mix of stale blood and long-rotted flesh. I covered my nose, but it was useless—the stench seeped through everything.
Then something leapt from the darkness. Fast, like a starving beast.
The spirit lunged at me. Its form blurry, but clear enough to make every muscle in my body tense. Its mouth gaped, exposing long, grayish-yellow fangs dripping with saliva.
Reflexively, I lifted the broom and held it in front of my face.
KRAAK!
The fangs sank into the wooden shaft, biting with vicious force. Its saliva dripped onto my wrist—warm, thick, disgusting. Its voice wasn't a human roar but an echoing sound, deep and raspy, like a scream dragged from a grave.
I could feel myself trembling. My legs weak. My grip on the broom nearly slipping.
"Ah… I hate this job," I muttered between ragged breaths. But the spirit didn't care—it thrashed wildly, shoving me with strength no living creature should possess.
I was thrown backward. Its sharp claws tore into my shoulder, burning as they pierced my skin. Warm blood slid down my arm, its metallic scent mixing with the stench in the room. The moment it smelled blood, the spirit went berserk. It roared, its body trembling violently, its eyes locked onto me with hunger.
The broom snapped in its mouth with a sharp crack.
Before I could react, its grip clamped onto my collar and slammed me into the wall—
DUP!
The impact rattled my skull. My vision blurred, pain blooming across my head. Air burst from my lungs—I could barely breathe.
"Agh…" I groaned weakly. I didn't dare look at the spirit's face. If I did, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from screaming.
Its claws slashed again, tearing my clothes, leaving shallow but burning cuts. The torn fabric exposed my pale skin under the moonlight creeping through the window. Cold. Too cold. I shivered—caught between pain, fear, and despair.
My shaking hand reached toward my pocket.
A small box of charms—the only thing that could save me. But before I could touch it, a woman's scream rang out.
A real one. Loud, sharp, splitting the air.
The spirit froze. Its head twisted toward the sound.
No… impossible.
I knew that voice—it was the inn worker!
My body was dropped. I collapsed onto the floor, air knocked out again. But I had no time to recover—my hair was yanked from behind.
"Aa—!" I choked, my scalp burning as if ripped from my skull. The spirit dragged me across the wooden floor toward the screaming woman. The floor scraped my wounded skin, leaving raw pain in every inch.
I couldn't fight it.
Couldn't resist.
All I could do was endure and hope someone—anyone—would save us tonight.
The older sister trembled violently, shrinking into a corner as if trying to disappear in the shadows. Her hands covered her mouth, but small whimpers still seeped through her fingers. Her face… God, her face was awful. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, eyes wide with the terror of prey trapped by a predator.
I struggled, trying to break free from the spirit's grip on my hair. My fingers found one charm—a thin, nearly torn slip of paper. I clutched it tightly, forcing myself to recite the incantation that should save us both.
But my tongue slipped.
I bit it.
A metallic taste burst in my mouth, blood dripping between my teeth, and my voice died in my throat. The mantra shattered, useless in the air. Damn it. Such a stupid mistake, at a time like this—it was torture.
I wanted to scream, but only dry air escaped my lips.
I wanted to beg, but even my thoughts were muddled by pain, fear, and helplessness.
Where is everyone?
Aren't there other guests staying here?
Why isn't anyone coming out?
No running, no screaming—as if only the three of us and death itself occupied this inn.
The sound of the door breaking earlier should've been loud enough to wake even a deaf person. But all I heard was my own ragged breathing and the heavy grunts of the spirit staring at us with its eyeless gaze.
And Liam—where is he?
What is Senior Liam doing that he hasn't appeared?
He should've heard all this. He should've come. He should've—
The sound came again.
A long hiss from the spirit, like air dragged from deep in its throat. Its dark hand reached under the table and grabbed something.
The woman screamed.
"Help me! Let me go! Please!"
Her voice shrill, piercing—but the spirit didn't care. It yanked her out by force as if she weighed nothing. Its long arm wrapped around her neck, lifting her into the air.
Her legs kicked helplessly.
Her fingers clawed at the spirit's skin, but only scraped thick black mist that didn't react. Her fingertips bled, nails breaking one by one, but she kept struggling in panic.
I watched helplessly.
Couldn't turn away. Couldn't close my eyes. The spirit gripped my jaw and forced my head up to watch. I wanted to look away, but my body was frozen. I was forced to witness.
The first crack.
The second.
Her neck jerked—her body flailing harder.
The third, fourth… and fifth.
Each louder, sharper—like snapping branches in the dead of night.
Her screams stopped.
Her legs no longer kicked.
Her arms drooped, hanging limply like a discarded rag doll.
Then her head… tilted unnaturally to the side, as if her bones were gone. Her neck was now just a limp string of flesh unable to hold her weight.
The spirit paused, calmly admiring its work with chilling stillness.
And I… I could only tremble, every part of my body shaking silently. My throat locked with nausea and terror too big to swallow.
The sight paralyzed me. Cold sweat ran down my temples, dripping from my chin onto the blood-stained floor. My chest rose and fell unevenly, my breath choked, tears rolling uncontrollably. This… this was my first time witnessing the brutality of a wild spirit firsthand. Not just hearing stories, not imagining—real. Right in front of me.
My body was thrown to the ground again, my back slamming into the wooden floor hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Pain shot through me—but it was nothing compared to the nausea when the spirit turned to the still-warm corpse. I didn't dare look, didn't want to know what it was doing, but the sounds… the sounds wouldn't let me escape.
Crack—bones breaking.
Scrape—flesh tearing.
Then krrhkkk—the wet sound of chewing echoing through the room.
I curled in on myself, hugging my body like a child. My hands covered my ears, but the sounds still seeped through. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the inn's damp air, thick enough to cling to my throat. I pounded the floor weakly, furious and frustrated, but only rough gasps escaped my mouth.
"Why… why am I so weak…"
I growled softly, pressing my forehead to the floor.
"This is just a level-one spirit… just level one!"
Tears pooled again. My heart felt crushed—fear, disgust, and self-hatred mixing into one suffocating weight. My job was to protect these people—humans threatened by creatures like this. But now, the very person I was supposed to protect died in front of me, and I couldn't stop it. I was useless. Truly useless.
"What are you doing, Peter…" I whispered between sobs. "What are you doing…"
I forced myself to stand, though my knees trembled violently. My breathing was strained, my shoulder throbbing, the world spinning—but I had to stand. I had to. The spirit was still there, its back to me, holding a severed arm dripping blood from its long, black fingers.
I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. My trembling fingers reached for the charm card Liam had tossed to me earlier, chanting in a cracked voice.
A faint light flared in the air, shimmering like thin chains wrapping around the spirit. A soft clinking sound followed as the spirit growled, restrained by the glowing binds. Its shadow trembled, twisting, letting out a shrill cry that raised every hair on my body.
I didn't have much time.
This charm would only hold it briefly.
I looked around desperately, searching for anything—anything—I could use. My eyes fell on a knife on the table. A dining knife, but sharp.
Good enough. It had to be.
I ran.
My steps unsteady, but I ran with what strength I had left. My hand was inches from the knife—just inches—when a loud snap shattered the air.
CRAAK!
The glowing chains broke.
The spirit's furious roar shook the entire room.
Before I could react, something crashed onto my back, slamming me to the floor. Air burst from my lungs, and sharp pain shot through my shoulder.
In that instant I knew—it had bitten me.
"Arghhh!!" I screamed, the sound tearing out of me, no longer human. I felt its fangs sink into my flesh, tearing skin and muscle, a burning cold mixing with intense heat. My vision spun, my eyes blurred, but the pain was real—too real to ignore.
The pain surged endlessly—but then it paused. The spirit jerked, stumbling as black blood splattered onto the floor. My breaths came in ragged gasps, my chest tight. Sweat and blood mixed on my skin, every movement challenging the limits of my body.
The wooden chair I had swung earlier smashed into the spirit's body with a loud crack. It roared—its cry almost bone-rattling. It spun unsteadily, trying to recover, but its steps faltered. Its ink-black eyes flickered, confused why a tiny spark before it refused to go out. Its growls softened into brief whimpers.
I gasped, inching forward little by little. Every joint screamed, every breath scraped like gravel inside my lungs. Blood from my shoulder felt hot as I pressed cloth against it. My hand trembled as I forced myself to stay calm, battling the urge to collapse.
The spirit writhed a few more times. Black blood dripped, staining the wooden boards. Then silence—a hollow silence that made my ears ring—as its form thinned. The dark mist clinging to it shrank, sucked back into some unseen source. Its final cry faded into a weak moan, then nothing.
I stayed still, gripping the knife now dripping red, staring at the fading silhouette. My breath slowly steadied, though my body still trembled. Only the sound of night wind through the window and my own heartbeat filled the space. My chest quivered slightly—a reminder I wasn't recovered yet.
My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the cold, blood-scented floor. Relief washed over me, but it mixed with guilt and overwhelming exhaustion. I wiped my face with a shaking hand, tasting the salty blood on my lips. Tears fell again—not from pain, but from the crushing weight settling on my chest.
I used what little strength remained to press harder on my shoulder wound, making sure the bleeding slowed.
At that moment, footsteps sounded from the second floor. I looked up to see a blond man, freshly awakened. Liam descended the stairs quickly, breath heavy, expression darker than I'd ever seen on him—far too serious for someone like him.
"I told you to call my name when you were in trouble, didn't I? Why didn't you?" he said sharply—but beneath the anger was a clear tremor of worry.
Ah… I didn't even have the strength to answer. My head felt heavy, vision spinning, and in the last fragments of awareness, I saw the horrifying scene beside us—the remains of the inn worker… the pieces scattered in silent horror. My chest clenched, nausea rising, and my body lost all strength.
Liam caught me before I collapsed completely. He pulled me into his arms, letting me lean against his warm chest while his hand gently braced my wounded shoulder. His eyes scanned my injuries sharply, calculating something beyond my understanding.
"The captain didn't tell me about this issue… it's much worse than I expected," he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. Then he looked at me—softly this time. "You've worked hard. For now… rest."
He lifted his hand. A thin mist swirled, forming a small vortex in the air. From it emerged a glass bottle, translucent and glowing faintly in the candlelight. Liam reached out and pulled the bottle toward us, letting its shimmering vapor flow out and wrap around me gently like silk.
My body felt light—warm. The wounds on my skin dissolved peacefully into the mist, disappearing without pain. The world blurred, and only Liam's face remained in my fading vision—so close it almost looked enormous.
Ah… he looks like a giant now.
That thought drifted sleepily through my mind before everything went dark, and I closed my eyes because I could no longer hold on.