Chapter 42. The Secret Game (11)
Lyla stared silently at the child. Then, her gaze dropped to the portrait that had fallen to the floor.
It was a different child, Lyla thought. The child in the portrait had uneven hair lengths on either side.
The ends were jagged and uneven, as if someone had crudely chopped her hair off by force. The child Lyla saw in the forest was the one in the portrait. But still…
“You…”
Lyla looked quietly down at the little girl with braided hair and barely managed to move her lips.
“What’s your name?”
“You’re curious about my name?”
The little girl asked.
—Knowing the name of ‘something’ can sometimes be dangerous, Lyla.
Lyla recalled what her mother once told her and nodded.
But things couldn’t get more dangerous than they already were. She was alone in this strange place, not even knowing where she was. How could it get worse than this?
No, I have to know, Lyla thought.
“Yes, your name.”
“You’re really curious?”
Lyla nodded again. The girl grinned and lightly swayed her braids before answering.
“My name is Smulkin.”
“Smulkin.”
Lyla repeated the girl’s words, swallowed dryly, and nodded. Her throat stung. It felt like someone had stuffed a fist down her windpipe.
Smulkin said,
“You’re it first. If I hide, you have to find me.”
“I have to count, right?”
“Of course! You have to count really loud. Loud enough for me to hear you, no matter where I am. Otherwise, you’d be breaking the rules.”
The way she ended her sentence was disturbingly cheerful. As if she were hoping Lyla would break the rules. And if she did, there was no telling what the girl might do.
Lyla nodded.
“Alright. How far do I count?”
“To twenty-two. You can count to twenty-two, right?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Good, then start counting! I’m going to hide! The seeker has to find me!”
As Lyla turned her back, the sound of Smulkin’s giggles quickly faded. The pattering of footsteps was faint but… still audible. In bursts.
“Seven, eight, nine.”
Lyla squeezed her eyes shut and counted in a steady rhythm. Nearly shouting.
Loud enough that the old house seemed to tremble. She even wondered if the house might collapse before she reached twenty-two. The wall her forehead was resting against felt like it was shaking…
Whatever. Let it collapse, Lyla thought. If the house falls down, that brat won’t be able to play anymore.
“Twenty-one, twenty-two.”
When she finally finished counting, Lyla slowly opened her eyes. She noticed the fallen portrait was somehow back on the wall.
Stay calm, Lyla took a deep breath. It’s too late to be surprised at a picture frame moving on its own.
Yes, too late. You’re capable of more than this.
A voice whispered brightly inside her head. The same voice that occasionally echoed in her mind—planting guilt, mostly. But now, Lyla was certain: it wasn’t her imagination.
“Maybe I really am going insane.”
She muttered as she stepped onto the first stair leading upstairs. A loud creak rang out. It felt like the entire staircase could collapse.
“Maybe I’m mad. Doesn’t matter. I’m getting out of here.”
She spoke forcefully to herself and quickened her pace.
“The Sink’s reaction was the same as before.”
A unit member reported after returning from searching the area around the Sink at Yustar’s command. He explained that whenever they got too close, the Sink disappeared—then reappeared when they moved away.
Marnak and Yustar exchanged grim looks.
Yustar, still staring at the map marking the Sink’s location, asked,
“The shape of the Sink? Is it the usual?”
The unit member looked puzzled but nodded.
“Yes, Sir Yustar.”
“You’re sure? Didn’t notice anything unusual?”
“Unusual… as in?”
“Like a wardrobe. An old wardrobe.”
Everyone around them instantly turned to Yustar. Their faces were full of confusion.
The unit member answered,
“No, I didn’t see anything like that. The Sink looked exactly how we know it. A pitch-black pit. That’s all.”
“But it was a wardrobe.”
Silence fell. Yustar paced nervously around the table and spoke again, this time more firmly.
“It definitely had the shape of a wardrobe. The Sink—or something very similar—was inside it. Lyla was pulled into it, and the people who appeared in the forest vanished. Like…”
“Like sand scattering in the wind,”
Marnak finished his sentence.
The idea of a Sink appearing inside a wardrobe was nearly unimaginable. But the people who had been chased by the “seeker” vanishing like sand was something he understood—he had seen it with his own eyes.
Yustar nodded.
“We need a way to access the Sink. If we don’t have Lyla, someone else among us must see the ‘core.’ Who has the highest clearance level—aside from Marnak?”
Robsker raised his right hand.
“That would be me, Sir Yustar.”
“Aren’t you assigned to monster combat?”
Robsker shrugged.
“I am, but I’ve successfully performed an Overlay once. To be honest, I think I pulled it off thanks to my endurance.”
“Side effects?”
“If you mean besides not sleeping for a month due to nightmares and crying like a baby under my bed at night? None.”
A chorus of sighs and groans followed. Yustar pressed his fingers to his temples.
Though Robsker spoke casually, what she had gone through was severe.
Overlay success depended on stamina, mental strength—and luck. There was no guarantee she’d survive another attempt.
Marnak spoke up.
“We used to have more personnel experienced with Overlay. But several Sinks appeared simultaneously in the western region… we lost many agents trying to resolve that. We haven’t been able to replenish our numbers.”
“I understand, Marnak.”
Yustar replied, waving a hand. But his eyes turned cold. The simultaneous outbreaks of Sinks…
Yes, he remembered that report.
At the time, he had been far from the capital—searching for the one with the Eyes, Lyla. So he could only send his condolences from afar after Adiac’s bittersweet victory.
“Marnak, were there any disasters when the Sink appeared?”
Usually, Sinks appeared as isolated phenomena. But occasionally, ones with strong energy caused small-to-medium-scale natural disasters—or summoned monsters.
Marnak nodded.
“Yes. A monster named Echenais emerged from a coastal Sink and caused a tsunami. It wasn’t large, but all the homes along the ridge were damaged.”
Echenais was a large, scaleless fish-shaped monster.
It had two humanoid legs that allowed it to both swim and run, causing waves and tsunamis. If Echenais triggered a wave, even the largest ships could flip like paper boats.
“That’s it.”
Yustar clenched his fist and circled the table, rummaging through Sink reports and documents.
“There must’ve been casualties when the houses collapsed from the tsunami. One of those victims created this Sink. And that victim must’ve been a child. Do we have a casualty list from that incident?”
“It’s archived, Sir Yustar.”
One member replied. When Yustar gestured, he activated a device with a rounded top—the Archive. It was a magic-powered machine that stored important data in case physical documents were lost.
“Search for anything linked to Echenais and the tsunami.”
“It’ll probably be grouped with Sink events. Just a moment.”
His fingers moved across the sleek black surface of the device, emitting a soft humming noise as magical feedback responded to his touch.
“Found it.”
“Project it.”
The side of the Archive shimmered with translucent smoke, which soon formed into a glass-like screen. Yustar immediately recognized the child’s image that appeared on it. That strange haircut…
The agent said,
“There was only one child among the confirmed tsunami victims: Rillin Donok, ten years old.”
Marnak furrowed his brow.
“Ten? She looks much younger.”
The agent tilted his head in agreement. Then Yustar spoke, calmly but heavily.
“Maybe she didn’t grow properly due to malnourishment. Maybe she was neglected. Look at her hair—it doesn’t get like that without serious circumstances.”
“Weren’t there lots of kids living around the ridge? Why was she the only one who died?”
Robsker asked. The agent quickly pulled up additional data for everyone to see.
“When the alert for Echenais went out, most villagers evacuated. Parents prioritized taking their children with them. But this girl… likely had no parents at home…”
“Or had them—who left her behind.”
At Yustar’s grim words, everyone—including the agent—fell silent. It was the worst possible scenario, one they didn’t want to imagine. But it wasn’t implausible. In fact, it was very likely.
Yustar spoke again.
“Alright. Split into teams. One group searches the nearby regions and finds out if Rillin Donok’s parents are alive. Use every communication channel and report to me in two hours. Marnak, you’re in charge.”
Marnak nodded. Yustar then looked to Robsker and the other combatants.
“The other group will approach the Sink. Do we still have anything left from Echenais?”
“Its heart and claws,” Robsker replied.
Yustar nodded.
“Let’s go with the heart. It’ll like that better.”
