Chapter 58. The Two at the Crossroads (11)
The man’s expression suddenly turned awkward at Laila’s serious demeanor, but she could tell he wasn’t just spouting nonsense.
It felt as though he truly carried a heavy burden—like how an animal senses an impending earthquake before it strikes.
“Um.”
Laila started to speak again but fell silent. The man then said:
“Donovan. That’s my name. Call me Donovan. And my daughter’s name is Alice.”
Laila nodded, showing she understood.
“What’s wrong with Alice?”
Donovan let out a long sigh.
“From the day she was born… she looked different from others. You’ll see soon enough, but her face is—no, it’s quite hideous. As if burned. But she’s a kind-hearted girl. Gentle as silk, truly. I’m not just saying that because she’s my daughter. But because of her face, she’s always withdrawn, and it breaks my heart…”
Laila’s eyes slowly blinked. Her red pupils lingered on Donovan’s hunched shoulders and his twitching fingertips.
He’s lying.
If Donovan’s words were true, there might’ve been some way to help using Tink.
But that sudden unease—the chill that had run down her spine the moment he mentioned his daughter—hinted at something much more serious.
“You’re lying, aren’t you?”
Donovan stared at her, stunned. His lips trembled, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny it.
As he stayed silent, Eustar also fixed his gaze on Donovan with renewed interest.
Finding the Sync nearby was important, but if Donovan was hiding something worse, it couldn’t be overlooked.
“Mr. Donovan.”
At Eustar’s words, Donovan flinched. His voice was low, as though deep in thought, but carried an undeniable weight.
“Is my colleague right? Are you hiding something about your daughter?”
Donovan’s previously bluff and gruff attitude disappeared. He let out a deep sigh, almost as if he were afraid.
Laila and Eustar exchanged glances. Their intuition told them this wasn’t ordinary.
Finally, after hesitating for a long time, Donovan spoke with difficulty.
“At night… she does strange things.”
“What do you mean, strange things?”
Eustar pressed quickly. Donovan pursed his lips, then bit them until they bled before running a rough hand down his face.
“I don’t even know how to describe it. One night she wore all her clothes backwards and ran through the halls. Another time, she hung onto the railing, swaying like she was about to throw herself off. And once—I saw her climbing the stairs on all fours. Like an animal.”
Laila didn’t know what to say. But if Donovan spoke the truth, Alice definitely had a problem. A very serious one.
Eustar asked again:
“And what did you do when that happened?”
Donovan looked up, his face twisted with fear.
His hollowed-out eyes looked like those of a sick man, and for a moment, Eustar thought of Ode—tormented by nightmares, hallucinations, and voices every night. Somehow Donovan’s plight felt similar.
“I—I did nothing.”
Laila silently watched him. Her eyes held too many emotions for even Eustar to read—rebuke, pity, anger, and more, all swirling within.
“You did nothing.”
Laila finally repeated his words.
Donovan covered his eyes with one hand, his brow furrowing. It sounded almost like he was sobbing, though he wasn’t. He only looked as though he might cry.
“What could I have done? She’s my daughter. My only daughter, whom I’ve raised since she was swaddled. I asked her, gently, why she was doing such things. But in the morning, she remembers nothing! She just laughs it off, saying it must’ve been a bad dream. What more could I do? At night I can’t sleep. When I hear strange noises outside, I don’t even dare open the door. Because it feels like, it feels like…”
His words trailed off harshly. Eustar finished them for him.
“Because it felt like it wasn’t your daughter, but something else. Isn’t that right, Mr. Donovan?”
Donovan stayed silent. Even if it was true, he didn’t want to admit it.
After some thought, Laila spoke.
“We need to see for ourselves what happens to Alice at night. Without knowing the problem, we can’t find a solution.”
“Y-you mean, you’ll help?”
“Tentinel exists for that reason.”
Then she glanced up at Eustar, seeking his agreement.
With a small smile, Eustar nodded.
“Of course, Mr. Donovan. As my colleague Miss Chrislad said, Tentinel is an institution that exists for all citizens of Sierrow. It is our duty to rescue those plagued by strange and incomprehensible phenomena.”
Finally, tears burst from Donovan’s hollow eyes. Bowing deeply, he thanked them over and over.
Eustar calmed him first. There was an order to all things.
“For now, we still have work to do. You said your daughter’s episodes happen at night, so we’ll return before then. Just tell us one thing.”
Donovan nodded hastily.
“Anything. What do you want to know?”
Eustar’s green eyes gleamed.
“Where exactly in the village do people see hallucinations or go missing?”
The stares that had followed the oddly dressed pair only faded after they left the village’s main street.
A few curious children trailed behind, softening their footsteps, but whenever Laila glanced back, they shrieked with laughter and pretended to flee.
“Feels like I’ve become a papa duck,” Eustar said.
Laila gave him a puzzled look, then glanced at the stubborn children still following, before turning her gaze forward again.
“Then do something about your ducklings.”
“If the mama duck swings a stick, they’ll run off quick enough, not wanting a smack on the rump.”
There was laughter in his voice. Laila fell silent for a moment, then looked up at him.
“Are you implying I’m the mama duck?”
“Who else would it be? Don’t like being called that?”
Who would enjoy being called that? Her brows furrowed, and suddenly Laila stopped in her tracks. Eustar looked at her in confusion.
When she whirled around, the mischievous kids froze on the spot, unable to even think of running.
Black hair, red eyes—facing a witch straight out of their bedtime stories terrified them.
Laila locked eyes with each of the six children and spoke in a chilling voice.
“Keep following me, and I’ll turn you into ugly ducklings.”
For a moment, silence. Then—
Hic!
One child hiccupped loudly, and as if it were a signal, the group screamed and scattered. One fell on the dirt path and cried loudly, another slipped into the grass to hide.
Snorting proudly, Laila turned back. Eustar, however, had his eyes shut, pressing both corners of his lips.
“What are you doing, Eustar?”
He cleared his throat with a peculiar sound.
“Nothing. Just… amusing, is all.”
“You think it’s funny that I scared children?”
Her voice was deadly serious. If he answered yes, he’d probably get a full lecture.
Eustar finally burst into laughter, shaking his head.
“Not like that. Well, partly that too, maybe… But threatening to turn them into ugly ducklings—it’s too cute a threat for a witch.”
“If I’d threatened worse, their parents would’ve come to burn me.”
“You keep saying that. But no one can burn you. Not even with a matchstick. So you can rest easy.”
Laila found herself liking that thought. And was startled that she liked it—without guilt, without that nagging voice in her heart. For the first time, she simply felt glad at Eustar’s words.
The two walked in silence for a while. Finally, they reached the narrow path they’d seen from the hill. Between the dense branches, two ruined villages gave off the same stench.
“There’s a smell,” Laila whispered.
Eustar instantly understood she didn’t mean a literal smell. What she sensed was emptiness, countless deaths—the scent of ghosts.
“There’s a signpost over there,” Eustar said.
Half-rotted and hidden among the trees, two signs pointed down diverging paths.
They brushed away the moss and mold to read the words carved into the wood.
“Bintos-his,” Eustar read from the left sign.
“Hoiyer-his,” Laila read from the right.
Staring intently, Laila said:
“They mean ‘left’ and ‘right,’ don’t they?”
“Exactly. I don’t know if they’re village names or just directions. Which way should we go?”
After a moment’s thought, Laila dusted off her hands and plucked a badge from her jacket. It was flat and round like a coin, with a small pin at the back.
“Front side means Bintos-his, pin side means Hoiyer-his.”
“The classics are always best. Go ahead, toss it.”
Laila flicked her fingers, and ting—the badge spun in the air.
