4. The Duke
The woman's scream echoed through the forest. The pursuers exchanged glances.
"I think I hit her earlier," one of the men lingering at the forest's edge said. The man beside him spat, scowling.
The men were rough-looking. The stitching scars crisscrossing their faces and the marks on their hands suggested they had been no strangers to violence.
"Why don't we fire a few more rounds, drive her out? She's terrified—she'll come running right into our hands."
Prey, once startled by gunfire, would panic and run straight toward the hunter. Their quarry was no different.
She'd even been shot in the calf—there was no way she could escape easily. She was probably huddled somewhere in the snow, trembling.
But unfortunately, they couldn't go in and retrieve her.
"Stop."
The man with the scar running down his face raised a hand, stopping the one-eyed man.
"This is the Snow Leopard Forest."
The man who had fired clicked his tongue regretfully.
"A few more shots and I could have killed her. Even if I missed..."
"What if the Duke hears those shots?"
The man gestured with his chin toward the signpost driven deep into the frozen ground. The black ironwood sign was stained halfway red.
"......"
The pursuers' faces hardened as they registered the sign. Without realizing it, they had set foot in the Snow Leopard Forest. They could retreat easily enough, but it was a shame they couldn't continue chasing the woman.
There was no fence, no explicit prohibition.
"It's the Duke's winter hunting season."
"Anyone who sets foot on this land is as good as dead."
"We've been spared the trouble. Let's head back."
"But if we don't bring back a body, we won't get the full payment."
"We can't exactly offer up our own bodies to find hers, can we? However much the village head is paying, let's keep our heads attached..."
At that, the man clicked his tongue again, regretfully. His disappointment seemed about more than just money.
"That woman was quite pretty."
"A waste for a backwater like this. She'd have made a fine nobleman's mistress."
"No wonder the village head had his eye on her. Father and son both chasing after the same woman, and look what happened—quite a spectacle."
The man chuckled.
"I wonder what sounds she'd make in bed. I was thinking of having some fun with her first, not making it obvious, then handing her over..."
He licked his lips at the thought.
"She'd have been thoroughly used by now. In a remote village like that, all the men would have taken turns with an orphan girl like her."
"Nonsense. She was clearly a virgin. Her eyes were wide and startled, like a deer's."
"You believe that look? I saw lust lurking in those eyes. The way she must have led the village men on..."
Bang—!
The man's laughter stopped abruptly, cut off by a gunshot. It all happened in an instant.
He slowly turned to his side. His comrade, frozen mid-step, seemed fine at first glance. Until blood began to spurt from the hole in the back of his head.
Thud.
The one-eyed man crumpled forward like a felled tree.
"Wh-what...?"
The remaining man's face contorted with terror as he looked around. The swirling snow blurred his vision; he could see nothing. He aimed his rifle, turning in a circle, straining his eyes for the unknown enemy.
"......"
Suddenly, a black figure appeared about ten paces away.
Bang.
He pulled the trigger immediately. But the bullet merely tore through the air with a loud crack, hitting nothing.
Had he imagined it? He rubbed his eyes. In the next instant, a chilling presence behind him made him spin around.
A cold gun barrel pressed against his forehead. At that touch, the man slowly rolled his eyes to meet the gaze of the one holding the gun. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed him approaching until he was right there.
"Sp-spare..."
Bang.
The gun, thrust between his open lips, shattered his skull.
---
Arishte wandered through the snow-blanketed forest.
Drip, drop.
Red marks dotted the snow behind her, like anemones blooming in winter.
The blood from her hand wouldn't stop flowing. Her gray cloak, soaked with it, looked as if it had been made from red cloth.
I've passed this way before.
Even in her hazy state, she knew she was lost. The landscape barely changed no matter how far she walked, and she had half given up.
Her ragged breath scattered white in the frigid air.
Her vision swam dizzily. She'd lost count of how many times she'd forced her heavy eyelids open. She had lost one boot long ago. She had no destination, no goal.
All she could do was keep moving forward, one step after another. She'd long since lost the capacity to think about what might lie at the end.
"Hah, hah."
Snow-laden branches bent above her, swaying as if about to break at any moment.
Whoosh.
Snow dislodged from the tree and poured down over her head. The sudden weight collapsed her frail body instantly.
Her already damp body was covered in snow, growing colder and stiffer. Snow that had gotten inside her old leather boots burned her skin red.
She reached out and turned her boots upside down to shake out the snow. Not that it helped. She brushed snow from her shoulders and head as best she could, then forced herself up.
She felt like she might die at any moment, but if she stopped moving, she would die. By the hands of the pursuers chasing her.
How had she ended up being hunted like this in just one day? She had done nothing wrong. Was it her fault for trusting the villagers, who had shown her at least a surface kindness?
It hurts.
I feel like I'm dying.
No—perhaps she was already dead. She had lost all sensation in her body long ago.
Her footsteps on the snow felt like pounding on hollow wood.
If this was the outcome, why had she bothered running? Freezing to death or being stabbed to death—either way, the end was the same.
"In that forest lives a duke consumed by madness."
"He kills anything living."
Kill me. I'd welcome it.
A gun was a weapon that could inflict fatal wounds even by grazing. The graze on her calf burned like fire. The rest of her body grew colder and colder. The blood from her leg wouldn't stop. Her hands and feet had lost all feeling. She no longer understood why she was even running.
She no longer heard the sound of pursuit. Instead, a deep silence had settled over the forest. Too deep.
The oppressive quiet made Arishte shiver. They seemed to have given up chasing her. After all, this was the Duke's private land, where any intruder was as good as dead. No one would enter here unless they had a death wish.
"......"
A cold touch on her face made her look up. Snowflakes were beginning to fall from the sky. They were thick, heavy flakes, promising a blizzard soon. The sky was hazy. From experience, she knew this meant a snowstorm was coming.
Bang, bang—!
The sudden gunshots tore through the forest's silence, sending birds scattering from the trees.
"Ah!"
Arishte cried out and fell to her knees. More snow tumbled from a thick branch above, burying her. She flailed in the snow, coughing and spitting. She had just managed to struggle free from the heavy white blanket when—
Click—!
"Ah!"
She dropped back down.
"Ah, ah..."
A pain unlike anything she had ever experienced shot through her. She looked down at its source. Through squinted eyes, she saw a steel trap clamped firmly around her ankle. Its sharpened teeth dug into her flesh like a beast's fangs.
"Ugh, ugh."
She tried to pry the trap open with both hands, but it was no use. The more she struggled, the deeper the steel teeth sank. Blood seeped from between the jaws.
"No, no..."
She tried forcing her hands between the jaws to pry them open, but it was impossible. She only injured herself further.
"Ah, ah..."
The pain was excruciating; it would be no surprise if her ankle had been severed. A branch caught between the teeth was half crushed, preventing the trap from closing completely. Without it, her foot would surely be gone.
From the size and material, this wasn't a trap for rabbits or foxes. It was meant for large game, like bears.
Arishte racked her memory for how to release the mechanism. The design was similar to rabbit traps, though the scale was different.
Amid the searing pain that threatened to sever her foot, she finally found the release lever. She remembered that pressing it firmly would open the jaws wide.
"Please, please..."
She gathered the last of her strength and tried to press the lever. But the trap, long neglected, was rusted and wouldn't budge.
She threw her weight against it several times, but only flakes of rust crumbled away; the trap wouldn't open.
Her leg was quickly losing circulation. If she stayed like this, it wouldn't be long before it was severed, or, if lucky enough to stay attached, would soon turn gangrenous.
"Hnnn..."
The tears she had held back fell, dotting the snow. Her calf burned like fire; her ankle would soon be severed or rot, or she would freeze to death first. There was nothing more she could do.
"......"
Suddenly, a chill ran down her neck, making her look up. The forest was still silent, silver snowflakes swirling in the wind. An unnerving, oppressive stillness. Then she realized—something she had forgotten in her panic to free herself from the trap—and terror seized her.
The presence of such a trap meant a large animal, like a bear, lived nearby. Arishte went pale.
Her frightened gaze darted around. The wind was at her back. She crouched, shrinking into her cloak, staring ahead with wary eyes. The skin on her trapped ankle was turning purple.
Bang.
Another gunshot made her flinch involuntarily. The intermittent shots from behind pricked at the most sensitive part of her subconscious.
Let that shot not be for me. Not the next one, either. The fear was beyond description.
But this shot sounded strangely different from the previous ones. She was no expert hunter, but she was familiar enough with the sound of the village hunters' guns. The sound varied subtly depending on the shooter and the type of gun. This one was different from the shots her pursuers had been firing.
She blinked slowly. Who the shooter was didn't matter. Either there was one more person chasing her, or she had misheard.
The smell of blood was thick around her wounded calf. It kept flowing, even through the sticky clots. The snow around her was stained red, as if crimson flowers had bloomed.
They said that when a human reached the limits of pain, they no longer felt anything. True to that, she felt nothing in her calf. Her trapped ankle was the same. It was as if it had already detached from her body.
Would it matter if I died here? The thought crossed her mind. Where would this flight end? Caught or not, surviving in this snowy mountain was impossible. Even if she somehow escaped this forest...
Where would she go? Nowhere, truly.
She looked at her hands, buried in the snow. Her fingers were red and numb. The falling snow was heavy; if she stayed, she would be buried and freeze to death.
At least it wouldn't be painful. That wouldn't be so bad. Her heavy eyelids blinked.
Her breath was like hot iron, so different from the freezing air around her. Snowflakes landing on her cheek melted instantly. Her eyes kept closing. She let them, welcoming sleep, praying for peace. Then—
Grrrrr.
"......"
The menacing growl snapped her eyes open. All thought stopped.
With great effort, she lifted her eyelids to see a pair of fierce yellow eyes. A wolf as big as a house stood directly before her, staring.
When had it gotten so close? She hadn't sensed a thing. Wolves moved silently, making them a constant threat to hunters. They would appear without warning and take down their target instantly. Their overwhelming size and strength made them impossible to face alone; most who were attacked unawares lost their lives.
She had seen wolves brought back to the village. Even dead, they were imposing. She had idly wondered what a live one would be like, but she never went into the deep forest, their hunting grounds, so she had never expected to encounter one.
The wolf must have caught the scent of blood. Wolves had sharp enough senses to detect blood from a distance; the fresh blood spilled nearby must have smelled sweet as sugar.
"Go."
Her voice was barely a whisper, too faint even for her own ears.
"Go away."
She murmured again. The wolf seemed to answer with a low growl.
"Please go..."
Arishte flailed, grabbing whatever she could—a fallen branch.
"Get away from me..."
Her desperate cry dissolved into tears. Her jaw trembled. She had no tears left. The wolf was closing the distance.
Grrrrr—
The deep-throated sound vibrated through her skull.
"Go!"
She screamed. She knew how dangerous it was to provoke a predator in this state. But she was beyond reason, beyond the usual warnings and precautions.
"Leave! Get away!"
She hurled the heavy branch she had been clutching like a holy sword. At that instant, the wolf's jaws gaped wide as it lunged. She raised her arms instinctively to shield herself, squeezing her eyes shut as they trembled uselessly.
Bang—!
A deafening gunshot exploded.
"......"
It was unlike any shot she had heard before. She had never heard one so close, so loud. So commanding.
A spray of blood splattered. Hot, wet blood splashed over her head, her cheeks, dripping down her chin.
She opened her eyes to a changed scene.
The wolf, its red maw wide, lay sprawled on the ground. Its yellow eyes still fixed on her. Its gaping jaws revealed a red tongue and sharp fangs. Its raised hind legs twitched weakly, then fell still. The wolf lay dead, tongue lolling, its unblinking yellow eyes staring into the void.
She scrambled backward, still sitting. The wolf's blood melted the snow, flowing toward where she crouched. Her body was already drenched; trying to avoid it was pointless. Watching the fresh, steaming blood splattered on the snow, she felt a new fear.
Who?
Who could have killed such a large wolf in one shot?
"......"
The air around her changed. A snowstorm was beginning; she could barely see.
She had been so focused on the wolf that she hadn't noticed the figure standing just behind the fallen beast.
A massive shadow fell over where Arishte sat.
Swish.
Suddenly, the scene before her shifted. The shadow she had thought was quite distant now entirely engulfed her.
Scrape.
The man kicked the wolf's carcass aside with his booted foot. He took its place. She couldn't bring herself to look up. All she could see was the man's thighs, the part above his knees. She didn't dare raise her head higher.
An overwhelming fear consumed her.
In one hand, the man held a hunting rifle. Its barrel still trailed faint smoke, confirming it as the source of the shot.
The mingled smells of gunpowder, cold air, and coppery blood assaulted her hypersensitive nose. Her ankle, which she thought had been severed, felt nothing. Her calf was the same.
All she could see was the gun.
Crunch.
Snow compacted under the man's boots. The heat from his gun barrel traced a thin line through the snow. He approached where she sat, neither hurried nor slow.
She had nowhere left to retreat. Her fading senses snapped back to life, focusing on the man before her.
I wish he'd finish it with that.
I'm tired of running. I'm scared. I want it to end. Why do I always have to flee? What did I do wrong? I've kept to myself, stayed hidden. Let it end. Please.
I want it to end.
Her breath scattered white in the air. Arishte couldn't tear her gaze from the gun, as if mesmerized.
If he aimed it at her, pulled the trigger—
Suddenly, her view shifted. A man with crimson eyes filled her vision.
He had crouched before her, one knee in the snow, looking at her. The blood spattered across his face seemed to emanate from those red eyes.
Beautiful.
That was her first thought. His silver hair gleaming in the cold winter wind, eyes redder than blood. Skin pale as if forged from ice, yet somehow strong... Even the blood covering him couldn't mar his beauty. He was like a monster born of snow, beguiling people to their doom.
"That monster wears a beautiful human shape. To men, it appears as a woman; to women, as a man. Those bewitched by the monster lose their souls and die, buried deep in the snow."
Her father had added:
"That's why they say even frozen corpses wear a smile."
When she was young, her father had told her many terrifying stories to keep her from wandering into the forest alone.
The monster that lived deep in the winter woods would lure lost travelers, freeze them, and devour them. Full of cold from head to toe, it would embrace the lost and let them slowly freeze to death, then consume them down to the last bone.
This man was exactly that creature from the stories.
Am I seeing it now? Is death truly at my door? If I'm seeing things not of this world... Will I be eaten by this monster? That didn't sound so bad.
The man raised a hand and wiped the blood from his cheek. The smear made him look even more sinister.
Blood...?
She thought it was the wolf's blood. But then she remembered the wind had been blowing from behind her. The wolf's blood couldn't have sprayed on him. Whose blood was it then...?
Arishte's eyes flew open wide. The haze in her mind cleared like a sudden thaw.
This winter, the only people with guns in the forest would be hunters hunting winter game. But this was the Snow Leopard Forest. The Duke of Ikanus's winter hunting grounds. If there was someone who could freely roam this forest with a gun...
The man's red eyes were fixed on her. Quiet, expressionless, like the distant sunset—but meeting his gaze, Arishte's breath grew ragged. Even facing the wolf, she hadn't felt this.
Those eyes... those eyes weren't human.
She didn't know why, but she was certain. Nothing about this made sense.
"Those who enter that forest never come out alive."
"They all became hunting trophies, displayed in the Duke's castle."
The villagers' words came rushing back. Her jaw trembled, teeth chattering. Her hands and feet buried in the snow grew colder by the second.
"Duke..."
The man's lips moved, as if he had heard her faint whisper.
"I'm not the Duke."
He was smiling.
"Shall I take you to him?"
"......"
He didn't seem displeased, strangely. He seemed excited, like a predator sighting unfamiliar prey. Neither could look away. Only the quality of their gazes was very different.
Please, let me live. She wanted to say it. But as her lips parted—
Click.
"......"
The gun barrel slid between her red lips. The man's eyes crinkled with amusement as they met hers. Arishte's eyes widened further.
"Uh... ugh..."
He pushed the barrel deeper, almost to her throat. Arishte stared at him with the gun in her mouth. Her trembling body made the barrel waver slightly.
The barrel pressed against her tongue, reaching almost to her throat. She could feel the warmth radiating from the gun, recently fired.
A snow-laden wind blew. The man's silver hair scattered softly, revealing his red eyes more clearly. Her shaking grew so violent that her teeth clacked against the steel, the tremor transmitting to his hand.
She could see his finger trembling faintly against the trigger. He looked down at his hand, shaking beyond his control, then returned his gaze to her.
Perhaps the trembling irritated him. She thought he would pull the trigger any moment. But his finger only rested on it. Not pulling it now was no reassurance.
The gun would fire eventually. He seemed to be savoring the moment, playing with a trapped beast, teasing it before the inevitable shot.
She saw his finger tighten on the trigger. The click of metal engagement scraped against her ears.
At least she wouldn't die at the hands of those men. They would have killed her, dragging her body like cargo, perhaps just her severed head.
All that mattered was proof of death. Whatever came after death, it was instinct to wish for a peaceful end. And in this moment, that instinct was all Arishte felt.
Strangely, she found the barrel in her mouth warm. The warmth she had craved throughout her ordeal in the forest. Holding it brought a peculiar sense of relief. As if ice inside her was melting, a single tear traced down her cheek.
It wasn't a bad final sight. The man was beautiful, at least. Better than the ugly men who had chased her.
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. The warmth of the barrel was lulling her to sleep. The world blurred; the man's handsome face softened.
Click.
The sound of the gun being loaded. Death so near brought her relief. Someone who could kill a wolf so cleanly could surely end her life gently. Meeting such a skilled hunter in this moment was a stroke of luck.
"......"
But the trigger did not yield easily. The man tilted his head, his gaze lingering on her face with unsettling intensity. Even half-conscious, she felt it.
What is this?
Why is he looking at me like that? Why...?
The barrel slipped from her mouth, lowered toward the ground.
Why?
Her green eyes asked, fixed on the gun in his hand. A faint smile curved the man's lips.
"I've grown curious to see what else these lips might take."
At his words, Arishte's eyes widened briefly before slowly closing. The man caught her as she collapsed. He lifted his head, watching the thickening snow.
A blizzard was coming.
***
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