Chapter 8: A Strange Home

Inside Kayle's home, Kayle, his grandmother, and the man he had invited sat around a worn wooden table. The man's gaze flickered over the meal before him—a modest spread of bread, boiled vegetables, and freshly cooked rabbit meat. The aroma of the stew lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of old wood and the dried herbs hanging by the window.

Despite the warmth of the food, a heavy silence blanketed the room. Kayle shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping lightly against the table's edge. His grandmother, seated beside him, reached for a wooden ladle, her movements slow and deliberate.

"Eat up, son," she said to the man in front, her voice soft yet steady. A small smile creased her face, the kind that held both kindness and quiet insistence. "You must be very hungry."

Her eyes rested on the man, waiting.

He hesitated, glancing at the bowl before him. It still felt strange—being here, being welcomed. His mind drifted back to earlier, to when he had first arrived.

She had been waiting on the doorstep, her frail frame barely lit by the flickering lantern. The cold wind had tugged at her shawl, yet she hadn't moved, her eyes searching the dark as if she already knew he was coming.

As both of them approached, Kayle hurriedly explained the situation. She didn't seem worried about letting a stranger stay at their house.

Instead, she was more concerned about the man's condition. She noticed the dry, dark blood staining the white coat he was wearing. Without hesitation, she took the coat.

"I'll clean this, so you don't have to worry. For now, try freshening up—both of you."

…

Now they're all gathered around the table.

He glanced at the food, his mind momentarily distracted. Isn't this too bland?

Kayle, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. After a long day of hunting, he dug in eagerly, tearing into the meat with satisfaction. His grin widened as he chewed. "Mmm." He turned to his grandmother with a bright smile. "This is really good, Grandma!"

She chuckled, watching him eat with fondness before shifting her gaze to the man across the table. Unlike Kayle, he hesitated, prodding a piece of rabbit meat with his fork. His expression barely concealed his reluctance.

Ugh, whatever. He popped it into his mouth, swallowing without much thought. It wasn't to his liking, but the old woman had made it. He couldn't bring himself to be rude.

"This is… not bad," he said, forcing a small smile.

Kayle giggled. "Hahaha, mister, you don't have to be embarrassed to admit it's good, you know."

The man didn't respond. Anything more would only encourage more teasing.

The grandmother set her spoon down, her expression softening. "So, son! I heard from Kayle that you lost your memories."

He looked up. "Ah… yes. It seems so." His voice was quieter now, as if saying it aloud made it more real.

She placed a hand on her cheek, eyes filled with sympathy. "Then, can you remember your name?"

His hand stilled.

The question lingered in the air, heavier than he expected.

The word slipped out before he could stop it.

"—!"

"Yes, your name, mister. I forgot to ask again since you didn't answer before—"

"Nur."

Kayle froze, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Eh?" His wide eyes darted to the man.

The grandmother blinked, surprise flickering across her face.

The man stared at them, just as stunned. What did I just say?

The name sat on his tongue, heavy yet familiar. It wasn't something he had to think about—it had simply been there, waiting.

"Ah, is that your name?" Kayle asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's… quite a weird name."

A jolt ran through his head—not quite pain, more like a ripple, a shockwave that left only a faint vibration in its wake.

Something was shifting inside him. His memories… were they returning?

Kayle's voice snapped him back.

"It's Nur. And it's not weird—it's super cool!" The man blurted out, instinctively defending his name. His tone was almost childlike, though he didn't pout. He stood his ground, firm yet oddly earnest, as if protecting something precious.

"Hehe! That's cool then!" Kayle laughed. "Mr. Cool!"

"You can just call me Nur."

"Nah, the other one sounds better!"

"…." Nur didn't argue. His silence spoke for him—whatever.

The grandmother chuckled softly, watching Kayle with a fond smile. It had been a while since she'd seen him like this. With no siblings or close friends in the village, moments like these were rare. His laughter filled the quiet home with a warmth she hadn't realized was missing.

But as she turned her gaze back to Nur, her expression softened.

"Isn't that good?" she said gently. "Now that you remember your name, maybe the rest of your memories will return too."

The words hit him harder than he expected.

His chest tightened. A cold, unbearable ache settled deep inside him, spreading like ice through his veins.

His hand moved instinctively to his chest, fingers trembling.

…

Nur sat by the window on the upper floor, alone, his mind wandering.

The house Kayle and his grandmother lived in wasn't large, but it had everything they needed. Upon entering, there was a small entryway where shoes were left neatly by the door. The wooden floor was slightly elevated, leading to a modest dining area with a sturdy table and four chairs. To the right, near the window, was a small bed where the grandmother slept.

Beyond the hallway, the kitchen was separated by a simple wooden partition. A staircase led up to the second floor—Kayle's space. Though mostly used for storage, he had claimed it as his room without complaint. It was his own little corner of the house.

Coming down from the stairs, one would find the wooden walls enclosing the entrance to the bathroom and toilet. The bathroom itself was simple but well-kept, featuring wooden flooring and a stone bathtub set across from the toilet.

After finishing their meal, Kayle and his grandmother sent Nur upstairs to rest in Kayle's room.

Now what? he thought, lying down on the mattress laid out on the wooden floor.

The ceiling above was dark and unfamiliar, the faint creaks of the old house filling the silence. His body felt heavy, exhaustion seeping into his bones. His eyes struggled to stay open, but sleep pulled at him, slow and inevitable.

Before he could think any further, he drifted off.

…

Nur woke up to a throbbing headache, a dull pain pulsing at his temples as he groaned and rubbed them.

Yesterday, after recalling his name, memories had begun trickling back—fragments, blurred and dreamlike. His name had acted as a trigger, but nothing was clear. It was all… fuzzy.

What is this? He grimaced. This disgusting, uncomfortable feeling…

Sweat clung to his skin, making him feel sticky and restless. The air felt thick, heavy with something he couldn't quite place.

He exhaled sharply, glancing around. The wooden ceiling above, the unfamiliar scent of the room—he wasn't home.

It was quiet. For most, it would seem peaceful, but Nur could sense something off. A single presence lingered beneath the silence. Someone was approaching the cottage.

He turned to the window, squinting at the golden light outside.

Late afternoon…?

Man, how long have I been sleeping? Why didn't anyone wake me up?

Just then—

Creak!

The sound of the door downstairs opening.

"Grandma, I'm back!"

Ah, right… Kayle.

Memories clicked into place. Kayle had taken him in yesterday, offered him food. He hadn't thought much about it at the time. He was exhausted, hungry—there had been no reason to refuse.

But now… I can't stay here much longer.

Nur leaned his back against the wall beneath the window, his thoughts tangled. He needed to figure out his next step.

But before he could decide—

Creak… creak…

Wooden steps groaned. Someone was coming upstairs.