The day dawned. The sky was very clear and pleasant as if the heavy rain of the previous night had been a lie. However, those who were trying to start the day cheerfully as usual had to wake up to terrible news. The body of Elliot, the only son of the Hawkins couple, was washed up on the southern beach along with a crudely built boat.
People were shocked. The young man's body was torn to pieces without any form. His limbs and body were torn apart like sheets of paper, and he looked like he had been decomposed alive. Fortunately, only his face, covered in seaweed, remained intact, so they could identify him as Elliot.
His face was the very image of fear. A pair of pupils were wide open and empty. In the place where his soul had already completely left, there was still an incredible shock and fear. It was as if he had witnessed an unimaginably terrifying monster right before his eyes. Until the moment when the monster's claws mercilessly tore at his body.
“Angie, don’t look - go home! Elliot has been bitten by a shark.”
Angie's parents forced her back and sent her home. Other children her age were also being led away from the beach by adults. The whispers of adults hurrying their children home and to school reached Angie's ears on the ocean breeze.
“That’s why you should never think of anything strange. There is a terrible monster across the sea.”
“Didn’t the boat capsize and get bitten by a shark?”
“Even if it weren’t for the shark, it would have been like that! There are monsters beyond the sea that are much more terrifying and scary than sharks. That’s why we all, no matter what, must stay on this island. That’s how we’ll be safe, right? Of course...”
Angie walked toward the house like a machine, her head scarf and her white apron swaying in the wind. She couldn’t see Elliot’s condition clearly because her mother quickly turned her around. But she could clearly see one leg, which was torn wide below the knee. It was horrible.
Angie paused for a moment, squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. A chill enveloped her entire body. A chill ran from head to toe, like a needle.
Something is strange. Why is it? I don't know why. But something is very... strange.
Elliot Hawkins's residence was in a colony to the northeast, somewhat far from Angie's residence in the south. She had never met him before. The tiny population of about ten thousand people settled in the most livable areas of the island, under the central figure of the Blackwell family, and formed a community. Not everyone knew each other.
A deep sense of pity for the deceased came over her. But that wasn't all. The thrill that permeated Angie's body was of a different nature.
Is there really something beyond that sea...?
Angie took another step. If she continued to stand there, people would look at her strangely. The road leading home was lined with fragrant sycamore trees. The autumn sunlight was warm and shining through the green leaves. The terrible accident that had happened the night before seemed like a lie.
An accident... It wasn’t an accident. Elliot got bitten by a shark. But...
A flash of doubt crossed Angie's mind.
What if it's not a shark?
She couldn't figure out why, but she had a strong feeling that it wasn't a shark. It was as if some unknown, gigantic creature had torn off Elliot's limbs so brutally.
If so, what is the monster that killed Elliot? What is its identity? Is it really a monster living on the other side of the sea?
She had no intention of telling anyone about this suspicion. Everyone, including her parents, said that she sometimes had an overly imaginative mind. No one seriously criticized her. Still, she thought it would be wiser to keep it to herself.
What on earth is on the other side of the sea...
Angie walked slowly, trying to shake off her troubled thoughts.
The terrible morning that briefly shattered the peace of the island passed quickly. The villagers left Elliot's house only in the afternoon.
The Hawkins couple, who had suddenly lost their only son, were barely able to control their tears after wailing without even taking a sip of water. The Protestant pastor and neighbors did not hesitate to help the poor couple by helping with the funeral procedures and preparing a sunny spot in the cemetery in advance.
A few days later, the Hawkins couple greeted the morning brightly as usual. They sat down at the table with plates of sandwiches, soups, and casseroles that the townspeople had brought them as if nothing had happened. The bloodshot eyes and deep sorrow they had shown a few days ago were nowhere to be seen.
“The harvest ended a little early this year. Now all we have to do is harvest the corn.”
“Yes. All that’s left is fruit wine and pickles to eat throughout the winter. I’m going to take my time.”
The faces of the two middle-aged men and women were extremely calm. There was no sign of sadness anywhere.
He may actually be older.
Angie's suspicions grew stronger as time passed. It was already the second winter since she had been reading to Young Master and keeping him company.
She headed to the snow-covered gardens of Blackwell Heights on the last Friday of December, just in time for tea time. It was winter, even in a climate that was mild all year round. The snow had been falling nonstop for days, making the entire island seem as if it were surrounded by a huge blanket of ice.
Angie held the hat strings on her wool coat tightly as she walked briskly between the trees covered with beautiful snow. With each step, the thick snow crunched and sang under her boots. Unlike the contract she had made when she first set foot in the mansion last September, she was now visiting the Master three times a week.
She was now so used to it that she could close her eyes and cross the mansion gate, and reach the third-floor bedroom from the garden. She had also become much closer to the Master mentally. At least that was how she felt.
Kyle was still hidden behind the thick curtains. The age of Kyle Rawdon Blackwell, the only son of Duke Edward Liam Blackwell, was not actually known.
Once upon a time, the girls of the sewing club whispered out of curiosity. It was rumored that the Duchess had given birth to several children over the years, including twins, but they all died within a year of birth, leaving only Master Kyle alive. Of course, this was nothing more than speculation.
His appearance was also kept a secret. It seemed that no one had seen his face except for the butlers of his family's mansion.
Angie was a very special case, after all. Even if his silhouette was just a shadow on the curtains, she was an outsider who could actually hear his voice for at least three hours, three days a week.
He was known to be eighteen, a year older than her, but no one was sure. At first, she thought he was the same age as her or younger. But as time went by, she began to think that it might be the other way around. Maybe he was older than she had guessed.
But what kind of illness is it... that makes him have to lie in bed for so long?
He has been locked in his room without being able to leave the mansion for a single day. According to Mrs. Dunst, the doctors who have served the Blackwell family for generations are continuously developing a cure, so she has heard that the young Master's illness will be cured within a few years.
"In fact, it can't even be called a disease."
Mrs. Dunst had said solemnly to her as she walked Angie to the front door a while ago.
"His skin is very sensitive to sunlight and his body is very weak, so he only stays indoors. The Young Master sometimes goes out for a walk in the garden at night. He doesn't show his face to me because he is hiding his face. You only see him once in a while, so you don't have to worry about it."
Angie couldn't forget the day Mrs. Dunst said that. It was not so much what she said as the strange gazes she could sense from afar. Two gazes, each from a different place, watching her back.
After hearing those words, Angie bowed politely to Mrs. Dunst and left the mansion. As she passed the fountain where the cherubs were shooting arrows and entered the path lined with trees on both sides, she turned her head absentmindedly. There was no clear reason for it.
Under the early winter sky, when the ground was beginning to turn gray, Mrs. Dunst was looking at her. She had been out of the front door for some time, but she was still standing like a statue by the door. Her expression was not visible from a distance.
It was a strange feeling. An unknown thrill gripped Angie's entire body like a rope and wouldn't let go. As Angie turned around and froze, the woman turned and disappeared inside.
Another gaze was felt. Angie raised her head absentmindedly. Beyond the slightly open window, inside the fluttering curtains, there was a silhouette of someone. It was on the third floor, the far right room.
That's the Master's room...
The shadow disappeared in an instant. The hand that had been on the windowsill also quickly disappeared. Angie's body trembled slightly. A stronger shiver ran down her spine than when she had met Mrs. Dunst's gaze earlier. Her heart pounded. It had to be Master Kyle. There was no way anyone else would be standing by his bedroom window.
Angie stared at the window for a few more seconds before turning away. Her heart sank with a strange sense of foreboding. Her heartbeat was getting faster and faster, keeping time with the unknown signs of what was to come.
It was thrilling. An inexplicable current of ominousness danced from head to toe.
People were shocked. The young man's body was torn to pieces without any form. His limbs and body were torn apart like sheets of paper, and he looked like he had been decomposed alive. Fortunately, only his face, covered in seaweed, remained intact, so they could identify him as Elliot.
His face was the very image of fear. A pair of pupils were wide open and empty. In the place where his soul had already completely left, there was still an incredible shock and fear. It was as if he had witnessed an unimaginably terrifying monster right before his eyes. Until the moment when the monster's claws mercilessly tore at his body.
“Angie, don’t look - go home! Elliot has been bitten by a shark.”
Angie's parents forced her back and sent her home. Other children her age were also being led away from the beach by adults. The whispers of adults hurrying their children home and to school reached Angie's ears on the ocean breeze.
“That’s why you should never think of anything strange. There is a terrible monster across the sea.”
“Didn’t the boat capsize and get bitten by a shark?”
“Even if it weren’t for the shark, it would have been like that! There are monsters beyond the sea that are much more terrifying and scary than sharks. That’s why we all, no matter what, must stay on this island. That’s how we’ll be safe, right? Of course...”
Angie walked toward the house like a machine, her head scarf and her white apron swaying in the wind. She couldn’t see Elliot’s condition clearly because her mother quickly turned her around. But she could clearly see one leg, which was torn wide below the knee. It was horrible.
Angie paused for a moment, squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. A chill enveloped her entire body. A chill ran from head to toe, like a needle.
Something is strange. Why is it? I don't know why. But something is very... strange.
Elliot Hawkins's residence was in a colony to the northeast, somewhat far from Angie's residence in the south. She had never met him before. The tiny population of about ten thousand people settled in the most livable areas of the island, under the central figure of the Blackwell family, and formed a community. Not everyone knew each other.
A deep sense of pity for the deceased came over her. But that wasn't all. The thrill that permeated Angie's body was of a different nature.
Is there really something beyond that sea...?
Angie took another step. If she continued to stand there, people would look at her strangely. The road leading home was lined with fragrant sycamore trees. The autumn sunlight was warm and shining through the green leaves. The terrible accident that had happened the night before seemed like a lie.
An accident... It wasn’t an accident. Elliot got bitten by a shark. But...
A flash of doubt crossed Angie's mind.
What if it's not a shark?
She couldn't figure out why, but she had a strong feeling that it wasn't a shark. It was as if some unknown, gigantic creature had torn off Elliot's limbs so brutally.
If so, what is the monster that killed Elliot? What is its identity? Is it really a monster living on the other side of the sea?
She had no intention of telling anyone about this suspicion. Everyone, including her parents, said that she sometimes had an overly imaginative mind. No one seriously criticized her. Still, she thought it would be wiser to keep it to herself.
What on earth is on the other side of the sea...
Angie walked slowly, trying to shake off her troubled thoughts.
The terrible morning that briefly shattered the peace of the island passed quickly. The villagers left Elliot's house only in the afternoon.
The Hawkins couple, who had suddenly lost their only son, were barely able to control their tears after wailing without even taking a sip of water. The Protestant pastor and neighbors did not hesitate to help the poor couple by helping with the funeral procedures and preparing a sunny spot in the cemetery in advance.
A few days later, the Hawkins couple greeted the morning brightly as usual. They sat down at the table with plates of sandwiches, soups, and casseroles that the townspeople had brought them as if nothing had happened. The bloodshot eyes and deep sorrow they had shown a few days ago were nowhere to be seen.
“The harvest ended a little early this year. Now all we have to do is harvest the corn.”
“Yes. All that’s left is fruit wine and pickles to eat throughout the winter. I’m going to take my time.”
The faces of the two middle-aged men and women were extremely calm. There was no sign of sadness anywhere.
***
He may actually be older.
Angie's suspicions grew stronger as time passed. It was already the second winter since she had been reading to Young Master and keeping him company.
She headed to the snow-covered gardens of Blackwell Heights on the last Friday of December, just in time for tea time. It was winter, even in a climate that was mild all year round. The snow had been falling nonstop for days, making the entire island seem as if it were surrounded by a huge blanket of ice.
Angie held the hat strings on her wool coat tightly as she walked briskly between the trees covered with beautiful snow. With each step, the thick snow crunched and sang under her boots. Unlike the contract she had made when she first set foot in the mansion last September, she was now visiting the Master three times a week.
She was now so used to it that she could close her eyes and cross the mansion gate, and reach the third-floor bedroom from the garden. She had also become much closer to the Master mentally. At least that was how she felt.
Kyle was still hidden behind the thick curtains. The age of Kyle Rawdon Blackwell, the only son of Duke Edward Liam Blackwell, was not actually known.
Once upon a time, the girls of the sewing club whispered out of curiosity. It was rumored that the Duchess had given birth to several children over the years, including twins, but they all died within a year of birth, leaving only Master Kyle alive. Of course, this was nothing more than speculation.
His appearance was also kept a secret. It seemed that no one had seen his face except for the butlers of his family's mansion.
Angie was a very special case, after all. Even if his silhouette was just a shadow on the curtains, she was an outsider who could actually hear his voice for at least three hours, three days a week.
He was known to be eighteen, a year older than her, but no one was sure. At first, she thought he was the same age as her or younger. But as time went by, she began to think that it might be the other way around. Maybe he was older than she had guessed.
But what kind of illness is it... that makes him have to lie in bed for so long?
He has been locked in his room without being able to leave the mansion for a single day. According to Mrs. Dunst, the doctors who have served the Blackwell family for generations are continuously developing a cure, so she has heard that the young Master's illness will be cured within a few years.
"In fact, it can't even be called a disease."
Mrs. Dunst had said solemnly to her as she walked Angie to the front door a while ago.
"His skin is very sensitive to sunlight and his body is very weak, so he only stays indoors. The Young Master sometimes goes out for a walk in the garden at night. He doesn't show his face to me because he is hiding his face. You only see him once in a while, so you don't have to worry about it."
Angie couldn't forget the day Mrs. Dunst said that. It was not so much what she said as the strange gazes she could sense from afar. Two gazes, each from a different place, watching her back.
After hearing those words, Angie bowed politely to Mrs. Dunst and left the mansion. As she passed the fountain where the cherubs were shooting arrows and entered the path lined with trees on both sides, she turned her head absentmindedly. There was no clear reason for it.
Under the early winter sky, when the ground was beginning to turn gray, Mrs. Dunst was looking at her. She had been out of the front door for some time, but she was still standing like a statue by the door. Her expression was not visible from a distance.
It was a strange feeling. An unknown thrill gripped Angie's entire body like a rope and wouldn't let go. As Angie turned around and froze, the woman turned and disappeared inside.
Another gaze was felt. Angie raised her head absentmindedly. Beyond the slightly open window, inside the fluttering curtains, there was a silhouette of someone. It was on the third floor, the far right room.
That's the Master's room...
The shadow disappeared in an instant. The hand that had been on the windowsill also quickly disappeared. Angie's body trembled slightly. A stronger shiver ran down her spine than when she had met Mrs. Dunst's gaze earlier. Her heart pounded. It had to be Master Kyle. There was no way anyone else would be standing by his bedroom window.
Angie stared at the window for a few more seconds before turning away. Her heart sank with a strange sense of foreboding. Her heartbeat was getting faster and faster, keeping time with the unknown signs of what was to come.
It was thrilling. An inexplicable current of ominousness danced from head to toe.
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