Chapter 16
“Your parents were werewolves, and they went mad and hurt people. What guarantee is there that you won’t do the same?”
The hunter was shouting down at Sigona.
He must have been speaking normally, but to Sigona, it sounded as if the sky itself were roaring.
He was enormous and imposing, covered in dangerous weapons, and, more than anything, carried a scent no one inside the city had.
He was skilled at killing and taking what he wanted.
He was the man who had killed her parents.
Her childish instincts urged her to burst into tears, scream for help, and do whatever a young animal could to survive.
The fear made her whole body tremble and stung the tip of her nose.
But Sigona’s reason told her that crying would only provoke the monster before her, and reminded her that she was on a plain far from the city.
She stifled the sob rising in her throat and answered.
“No. There isn’t.”
The hunter smiled as if he could see right through her thoughts.
“You’re a clever girl.”
He was telling her it was wise not to cry.
Was the death of her parents nothing to that outlaw?
Even if her parents had committed murder, didn’t she at least have the right to cry?
But this was outside the city walls.
**
Someone else shed her tears for her.
“I’m sorry.”
At his father’s command, Tarmin had set up camp in a spot shielded from view. He faced her and wept.
A spark of fury flashed in his father’s eyes at the sight.
“Tarmin, you useless idiot!”
A kick came flying at him.
Even as his father’s kick knocked him down, he didn’t stop apologizing.
“I killed your parents. I’m sorry.”
“Tarmin! Can’t you stop?”
“I’m sorry.”
His father forcibly hauled the fallen Tarmin to his feet.
Grabbing his son by the collar, he shouted,
“Will you keep looking your prey in the eye and weeping like that from now on? Do you want to get hurt every time?”
His father was furious.
But Tarmin felt more pity than fear of his father.
Even as he groaned in pain, Tarmin didn’t stop.
“That girl lost her parents.”
“Mad werewolf parents.”
“They were still her parents.”
“You’ve got plenty to say. How about we bring the families of the people werewolves killed here and put you to the test? Could you say the same thing to them?”
Tarmin swallowed, and Sigona clamped both hands over her mouth.
“Would you still shed tears for werewolves in front of them? I’m no prophet, so I don’t know how their families would react. What I know for certain is…”
Sigona saw the sadness and regret in the hunter she’d thought was nothing but an outlaw.
“What I know for certain is that you’ll die.”
The sadness vanished from the hunter’s face as if it had never been there.
In an instant, the hunter was back to being an expressionless outlaw as he advised his son.
“Your tears will kill you, Tarmin. They’ll blur your vision and make your hands clumsy. Even in the face of death, you’ll waste time agonizing over pity. I told you not to look your prey in the eye.”
When even his father fell silent, quiet settled over the camp.
As the sun set, the surroundings quickly grew dark.
Looking at the fading sunset, his father said,
“This seems like a good time.”
He released Tarmin’s collar, which he’d been gripping.
Then he delivered his verdict to his son, who was rubbing his throat and coughing.
“This is your final test as a hunter, Tarmin. You will dispose of that girl.”
Because his tone was so calm, the shock took a long time to set in.
Even as he looked at his father, he couldn’t believe this was real.
“Pardon? What did you say?”
“I will not tolerate any objections.”
“Father, this isn’t a disagreement—this is murder…”
“She isn’t human. She’s a werewolf. And there’s no telling when she might go mad and attack someone.”
“Punishing her for something she hasn’t even done yet…”
“If you won’t do it, I will.”
“Father!”
“And that Enyaril girl?”
He swallowed when his friend’s name came up.
“You said you wanted to go on a pilgrimage with that chosen friend of yours, the so-called hero? I won’t allow that either. You can’t even pull your own weight yet.”
The nameless crowd from the church, endlessly praising his friend because a hero had appeared.
His friend, trembling with nerves in front of strangers, yet telling him it was all right because Taal was there.
Tarmin clenched his teeth and turned around.
There stood a red-haired werewolf girl, tears streaming down her face, both hands clamped over her mouth.
**
“Gah!”
Tarmin gasped and sat up.
“Ugh—cough! Cough!”
He coughed violently after gasping, looking around.
When had he fallen asleep? How long had he been out?
How much longer had Sigona been rampaging in the forest?
Surely she hadn’t hurt anyone after all?
The first thing he saw was Enya, sitting at the table and reading by candlelight.
Behind her, he saw the neatly arranged interior and a bookcase packed with books. From farther off came the sweet smell of medicine simmering.
His memories from before he fell asleep came back to him.
At the hideout, Enya had said she had something to check and headed to her house.
Whether she knew how badly he was fretting or not, once she got home, Enya put on the glasses sitting on the bookshelf, found a book, opened it, and began reading.
He’d watched her turn the pages anxiously, then fallen asleep just like that.
While he slept, three books had already piled up beside Enya.
Unable to stand it any longer, he decided to interrupt her reading.
“…Uh, e-eh.”
His voice wouldn’t come out properly.
His throat was terribly hoarse from all the crying and strain.
Enya seemed not to hear him; she adjusted her glasses and turned the page.
He forced his voice out with difficulty.
“E-Enya.”
“Taal? You’re awake?”
Enya answered, but her gaze remained fixed on the book.
Since she’d responded, he probably hadn’t turned invisible, but he was the only one feeling anxious in the room.
He couldn’t help resenting Enya for not even sparing him a glance.
“Enya, how much longer do you have to read?”
“I’m almost done, so just wait a little.”
If Enya the hero told him to wait, then he should wait.
It was something he’d done all his life, nothing unusual.
If he just waited, things usually worked themselves out.
He believed she’d resolve this situation beautifully, too.
But Tarmin wasn’t in good shape right now.
His mind was full of Sigona, and he felt as though he’d had some terrifying, awful dream.
His fingertips were trembling slightly.
For some reason, his head felt hot, too.
He needed help.
It wasn’t something befitting someone who’d played the cool-headed hunter for years.
He’d lived away from his mother’s arms ever since he could walk.
To put it plainly, what he felt was…
He was lonely and scared.
“E-Enya.”
“…”
He looked at Enya, absorbed in her reading.
Of course he knew she was concentrating on solving his problem, and he was grateful, but…
Still, he was waiting anxiously right beside her. Couldn’t she say something to reassure him?
Feeling hurt, he thought back on it and realized Enya had caused him no small amount of trouble today, too.
She’d gone and ordered food he couldn’t eat without asking,
and told him to touch her now-female body without any idea how much he’d been struggling.
Though he’d also done plenty to get back at Enya, who’d gone off the rails based on her assumptions.
Right, this was just him teasing Enya.
Thinking of it that way made him feel better.
He got up and went over to the seat beside Enya.
“Enya.”
“Yeees?”
She answered languidly, but her gaze was still buried in the book.
Enya was reading while sitting upright on a long, backless bench.
Even when he came close and sat down, Enya didn’t seem to pay him any mind.
He sat on her right and watched her.
Her red eyes sparkled with curiosity behind her glasses.
Her lips were pressed together with conviction.
Her slender, clean nape.
Tarmin stretched out both arms.
Then he wrapped them around the hero’s slender shoulders.
“Eek!?”
Startled by his sudden embrace, Enya let out a shrill scream.
She was so startled that she threw the book in her hands.
Still held by Tarmin, she asked, frozen in place with both arms still extended as if to hold the book:
“W-Wh-Wh-What’s wrong, Taal?”
“Those glasses look good on you.”
Recognizing the glasses on her face, Enya stammered.
“Th-These are a magical tool. I’m not wearing them to look stylish.”
“…Is there a way to save Sigona? In the book?”
That was something she could answer readily.
She stretched out only her arms, doing her best not to touch Tarmin, and picked up the book she’d tossed aside.
Then she looked for the section about werewolves.
“There is. Look, right here.”
“I think you’re holding the book upside down.”
“Ugh…”
Enya’s face turned bright red as she flipped the book around.
“Here.”
She pointed to the part of the encyclopedia that mentioned werewolves.
“You must’ve wondered why I was just sitting here reading, Taal. I was waiting for sunset. Elinol’s curse takes effect in the evening. I’ve checked plenty of cases, so now all we have to do is go see Sigona… Taal? Are you listening?”
There was no answer.
Looking up at him from his embrace, she saw Tarmin with his eyes opening and closing hazily, breathing hotly.
Only now did she realize she wasn’t holding Tarmin; rather, he was leaning on her.
She reached out and touched his forehead. It was burning hot.
Startled, Enya shook him awake.
“Taal! Are you sick?”
“No.”
Tarmin, coming to his senses, replied.
At the sight of him, Enya snapped angrily.
“Don’t lie! How can you go see Sigona in this state? You should rest and go tomorrow.”
“I have to go.”
Tarmin released Enya and got up, swaying as he leaned against the table for support.
“Sigona’s waiting for me to kill her. But I can’t do that. Or maybe she wants revenge for her parents.”
“Taal.”
“I can’t bring myself to be cruel, and I can’t save anyone, either. Enya—no, Hero. Please.”
The unresolved past was closing in on both hunter and prey.
Groaning beneath the nightmares of the past, Tarmin bowed his head to the hero.
“Save her.”