Nameless Ones (3)

I took a loaf of bread, sliced it at an angle, and divided it into long pieces. Vittorio blew on the dusty oven, sending the dust flying. It seemed like it hadn't been used in quite some time.

Every home has its characteristics. Especially in this self-sufficient era, certain signs should clearly be visible. Leftover firewood or ash from cooking, water pooled beneath wooden bowls that had dried out after being rinsed, or pottery filled with grains or dried fruits. But this cabin had none of those things.

After wiping the dust off the oven with water and clumps of straw, Leonardo added firewood and lit a flame. He poured enough oil into a long-handled pot to submerge garlic cloves and placed it over the fire, letting it cook slowly until the garlic became soft and tender.

Meanwhile, Leonardo sliced the tomatoes thinly. With his skill, he could slice them as finely as the exoskeleton of an insect, but instead, he cut them to a thickness just slightly thinner than his fingers. He did the same with the mozzarella cheese, creating slices of a similar thickness.

In the small garden in front of the cabin, herbs were thriving without anyone's care. I found some basil and plucked a handful, while Vittorio approached with a quick, skipping step to help rinse the leaves and shake off the excess water.

After waiting for the pan to heat up, I toasted the bread until it was golden brown on both sides. By this time, the garlic was perfectly roasted. I placed a couple of the softened garlic cloves on the toasted bread and, using the back of a spoon, pressed them down so that the garlic mashed into the bread like butter.

I then arranged the tomatoes, cheese, and basil on top in an orderly fashion, drizzled some oil, and sprinkled a bit of salt over it. It would have been nice to add pepper, but I didn't have any on hand, so I skipped that step. With that, I had created a simple bruschetta topped with caprese salad.

We gathered around the table to begin our meal. Vittorio ate carefully, making sure not to disturb the tomatoes or cheese piled on his slice. Leonardo, on the other hand, devoured a piece in one bite, as if it were nothing more than a passing shadow.

The garlic, cooked in oil, had lost its sharp spiciness and retained only a mild, nutty flavour, but its aroma lingered in the air, mixing with the sizzling oil. The bread crunched delightfully, and the fresh caprese salad brought a refreshing taste to my mouth. The seasoning was just right with the salt.

As I observed this simple act of eating—breaking down food with teeth and swallowing it through the contraction and relaxation of esophageal muscles—I noticed that it wasn't natural for him.

"I hope it suits your taste. I made it simply because it's easy to prepare."

I observed its reaction with a teasing tone. 

"Yes, it's delicious."

However, the response felt insincere, as if it were someone chewing on a clay lump that merely imitated the appearance of food rather than genuinely enjoying it. It was like proving that no matter how intricately they mimicked humans, they could never truly be one.

After the meal ended, I began to clear the dishes and casually asked it, "Are you going back to work in the fields? Since you've graciously offered us your room, we'd like to help in any way we can."

"It's fine. It's just a small field anyway," it replied curtly, grabbing a hoe and swiftly leaving.

Peeking out the window, I could see it tilling a small patch of land. While Leonardo kept watch on it, I took the opportunity to explore the inside of the house. When it mentioned that this was its bedroom and that we could use the other rooms, I decided to open the door to that bedroom it had referred to.

"Cough."

Dust swirled in the air as I stepped inside. In one corner, there was a cobweb, untouched, indicating no spiders had made their home there. It was clear this room had not been used. Considering the lack of signs of habitation throughout the cabin, it seemed that it roamed outside even at night.

'Is it that cave…?'

I dislike basements. I can only hope it doesn't lead too deep.

"Hey, kid, have you seen or heard anything around the village?"

"Um… They told me to be careful and not to wander near the woods at night. They said a monster takes people away…"

There are always those who enjoy telling scary stories to frighten children, warning that if they misbehave, some terrifying creature will come for them.

"So when I pretended not to believe it, they said it's true and that people have really disappeared. Then another person came and told me not to be scared because it's not true. The ones who went missing are just sick from the heavy rain and lying quietly at home with their livestock. They said they'd come out once they got better."

"Oh, really? I have something to check then. I'll be right back."

Leonardo was being watched by the villagers because of his demeanour, so I had to keep an eye on it. Vittorio was never going to be sent out alone, especially with the mention of sickness. I had no intention of letting a vulnerable child go that way.

I strolled leisurely and inconspicuously, observing the scattered houses, each with its own farmland, creating wide gaps between them. Looking at the houses, spaced awkwardly apart as if they were uneasy neighbours, reminded me of the sayings often quoted in horror stories.

'No matter how loud you scream, no one will hear you.'

I scanned the surroundings and headed toward a house on a suitable hill. The front door bore a large X made of lime, a mark indicating the presence of a sick person. I pressed my ear against the door, similar to what it had done earlier in front of our place.

It was quiet.

The window was made of wooden shutters, and I peeked through a narrow gap created by the worn planks. A foul odour assaulted my nostrils. It seemed that, as was common in this era, livestock had been kept inside the house. I could vaguely make out the corner of a bed in the dim interior. In late summer, even if the blankets were piled up, they wouldn't lie flat, yet the bed was perfectly level.

'The sick people are not in the bed.'

After briefly checking my surroundings, I drew a dagger, slid it between the window panes, and easily flicked the latch open. The window creaked open.

No one was inside.

The house, supposedly sheltering the sick, was simply empty. As I approached the source of the stench, I found a pot of spoiled stew rotting away on the table.

I stepped to the window and looked down at the village. There weren't many houses marked with an X. Maybe just a couple? If I added up their members, it seemed there could be around five or six people.

And then I recall it again. The two people that it consumed were only indicated during the information review. It ate two out of the six or so missing people. At this point, a natural question arises, doesn't it?

'So, where did the other people go?'

In truth, I already know the answer. When it consumes a person, it leaves nothing behind. Clothes, shoes, everything is devoured whole, and it mimics that person perfectly.

But Leonardo and I clearly saw it.

[That's clothing.]

[And shoes. Judging by the size and wear, they all belong to different owners.]

[How many pairs are there?]

[Four pairs.]

This is because exactly four pairs of shoes came out from the third bag it buried in the ground.

In other words, two out of the missing people were eaten by it, and the remaining four are still somewhere alive. The moment their whereabouts become uncertain, fear and anxiety creep in. How many people are left in this village? Are they hiding safely somewhere? Or is it approaching them?

Once I sort all of this out, I ultimately reach a single conclusion: We must find that entity in this place.

***

In the afternoon, the sky began to look ominous again, and rain started falling once more. The dark clouds that had been hovering over Rilke might have drifted this way. 

For dinner, we quickly made a simple cheese sandwich, grilling it in a pan until it was crispy and melted, accompanied by a basic salad. Once again, it barely touched its food before getting up from the table.

As the sun set, the three of us lay side by side on the bed. Vittorio nestled against me, while Leonardo wrapped his arms around both of us from behind.

Leonardo's hand moved up to my waist and then came forward, extending his knuckles for easy signaling. I tapped his knuckles lightly and then touched my earlobe. He drew the mark. Once, and then with more pressure, making it clear the second time. A signal indicating that it was listening in too closely.

I pretended to breathe quietly in my sleep and waited silently. After a while, Leonardo whispered softly in my ear.

"It's leaving."

When I noticed that something was happening in this village, I had two choices. After all, there was no compulsory scenario note, which meant I could simply ignore it and make a quick escape.

However, from a long-term survival perspective in this world, it would be helpful to understand what was going on and what happened outside the system's control.

"Kid, I'll need you to handle the wagon."

I entrusted the body of Leovald and the wagon to the child, preparing for any situation where we might have to escape at a moment's notice. I felt sorry for leaving him behind, so I gently ruffled his hair, and he whispered firmly not to worry. With that, Leonardo and I left the cabin.

As night fell, the village, without a single lantern, was shrouded in pitch-black darkness, making it impossible to see even our feet. Guided by Leonardo, we moved forward, and only when a chilling whirring sound echoed, as if the air was trapped in a narrow space, did we realize that a cave was ahead.

The thin leaves of the bushes brushed against my face. I could feel the slightly damp, slick surface of the cave floor through the soles of my shoes. As we moved deeper into the cave, a faint light appeared.

It was the flickering glow of scarlet torches. The terrible stench of beastly odour and the metallic scent of blood filled the air. Leonardo, who was leading, suddenly stopped. I peered over his shoulder and clenched my fists.

The corpse of a monster, skinned and hung from wooden stakes with ropes, was dangling from the wall. In the dim light, the fine hairs on its skin and the glistening, slippery insides of its body were revealed.

A squelching sound echoed as something slimy fell to the ground. It reminded me of the thin skins I had seen by the riverbank and the first bag buried in the ground. When I first saw the monster's corpse by the river, I thought it might have been the work of a stronger predator, but it wasn't.

It was scraping out the monster's corpse clean.