Before Daisy could object, the monk seized her wrist with unexpected force and dragged her along.
She tried to wrench free, but his grip was iron. There had always been rumors about Brother Berg's debauchery, whispered warnings passed between the nuns—but Daisy had never heard of anything like *this*. Outright abduction within the monastery walls.
Even with all his influence here, Berg couldn't simply ignore public opinion. Or had he decided that Daisy was defenseless? That she had no one to help her, no family to demand answers?
They stopped before Berg's door. Another monk stood guard at the entrance, and his face split into an ugly grin when he saw them approaching.
"Well, you actually brought her!"
"Where's Brother Berg himself?"
"Still not himself." The guard's voice dropped. "Muttering constantly, like he's gone completely mad."
"Don't blaspheme!"
"*You're* the blasphemer, hypocrite! Do you really think this girl will help him come to his senses?"
"Maybe she will."
From their exchange, Daisy realized with a jolt that Brother Berg hadn't summoned her at all. This was the monks' own scheme.
The first monk swung the door open and shoved her through. Daisy stumbled, spun around, and lunged for the handle—but it was already being held shut from outside.
"When Brother Berg comes to his senses, we'll let you out," the monk's muffled voice reached her through the wood.
Daisy released the handle. A wave of helplessness crashed over her. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
*If Berg didn't actually summon me, perhaps I can find another way out.*
But what had happened to Brother Berg? This man who was so obsessed with power and control—what state was he in that his own monks felt emboldened to behave like this?
Daisy took a cautious step forward. Berg's quarters were twice the size of the other monks' cells, befitting his status. From deeper within came sounds—groans, or perhaps labored breathing.
When she finally saw Brother Berg, she recoiled instinctively.
She had never expected to witness something like this.
Berg knelt on the floor, his head bowed so low it nearly touched the stone, drawing *something* with frantic, jerking movements. Crumpled sheets of paper lay scattered everywhere, and overturned inkwells had stained the floor with spreading black pools.
The ink bloomed in uneven blots, and the drawings looked more like random prints than deliberate work—chaotic, desperate attempts at *something*.
Despite the blurred lines, Daisy recognized the symbol immediately.
How could she not? It was the very same sign she'd seen drawn by the creature hiding behind Evangeline's face.
"Need to... need to finish... fill in the gaps... Like this... yes, it should be like this..." Berg muttered, his voice a fevered rasp.
He was so consumed by his work that he didn't notice Daisy standing behind him.
Berg's hand moved in sharp, erratic strokes. Daisy watched, frozen, her breath catching in her throat. She felt as if she'd been transported back to that secret room on the fourth floor of the Rohanson estate—peering through a crack in the door, witnessing the ritual.
Something indescribable was about to emerge from that magic circle. Just like before.
*If this continues, he'll summon those eyes again...*
**No!**
He mustn't finish the drawing! She had worked so hard to escape from that place! She couldn't bear that gaze any longer—those countless eyes, watching, *seeing* everything—
She had to stop him!
Daisy's gaze darted around the room and landed on a stone statue of Rachel standing nearby. The figure of the sun god was incredibly heavy, but desperation lent her strength. She lifted it above her head with trembling arms and brought it down with all her might.
A dull, sickening impact ran through her bones.
Berg crumpled face-first onto the floor. Daisy released the statue, which fell beside him and split cleanly in two. Rachel's white robes turned crimson.
Blood spurted from Berg's shattered skull, flowing across the floor in dark rivulets. It filled the grooves left by his frantic pen strokes, seeping into the depressions, completing the lines of ink with crimson.
The symbol was finished.
"What... what have I done..." Daisy whispered, the full horror of it crashing down upon her.
She had only wanted to stop him.
What would happen now if she was discovered? Killing a priest was a far graver sin than killing an ordinary person. She had dared to take the life of one blessed by divine grace. For this crime, she faced the death penalty.
"I need to run..."
But she was on the second floor—jumping from the window was impossible. Two monks guarded the door. There was nowhere to go. Unless someone helped her—
"Help you?"
Daisy nearly screamed. The whisper had come from directly behind her ear.
A man materialized beside her as if from empty air. His eyes blazed with an inner fire—not a reflection, but actual *light*, burning within. A red tongue flicked briefly between teeth that were just a shade too sharp. Jet-black hair fell across an angular, beautiful face.
"Shh... Hush now." He pressed a hand over her mouth. Daisy stopped breathing entirely.
"Hey, what was that noise? What's going on in there?"
"What does it matter? Pretend you didn't hear anything."
"Ah... well, alright then."
The monks outside apparently assumed the sound was accidental and didn't open the door. The man removed his hand, and Daisy gasped for air. Oxygen flooded her lungs, clearing the fog of panic from her thoughts.
The man studied her with unsettling intensity, then tilted his head to one side like a curious predator.
"I caught this bastard's scent and followed it here... Why are *you* alone in this place?"
"This... scoundrel?" Daisy's voice came out as a croak.
"Don't you know?" His smile revealed those too-sharp teeth. "The many-eyed one. His name is **Plauros**."
Daisy's skin crawled with ice. He was talking about... about what she had seen at the Rohanson estate?
"Ah, I see. I need to discuss something with him." The man's eyes glittered. "You'll take me to him."
Daisy shook her head violently. Go back *there*? Absolutely not!
"There's no other option. You've already made a wish, haven't you?" His voice was silky, reasonable. "I answered cheaply as it is. The least you can do is repay me with this."
*A wish?*
Daisy stared at him in confusion. The man snapped his fingers with a sharp *crack*—
And at that moment, Berg's corpse began to stir.
It was exactly like watching Evangeline come back to life. The nightmare of that day was repeating itself, becoming even more terrible with each iteration.
"Ugh... *This* is how he wanted to summon me?" The man grimaced at Berg's reanimated body with obvious distaste. "Only someone as hungry as I am would bother answering such a pathetic sacrifice."
His flippant tone made even this horrific scene feel absurd, surreal.
"Well, I've brought him back. Now it's your turn." He gestured toward the window. "Run."
Before Daisy could gather her thoughts, he snapped his fingers again.
---
When she came to her senses, she was standing in the forest beyond the monastery walls. Pine needles crunched beneath her feet. The night air was cold against her fevered skin.
Back in that blood-drenched room sat Brother Berg—an empty shell, devoid of soul or will.
"Damn, I completely forgot about after-service," the man muttered, as if remembering a minor errand. He returned to the room, stepped casually past Berg's seated corpse, and threw open the door.
The two monks standing guard didn't even have time to blink.
Their heads rolled across the floor with wet, heavy sounds.
But the strangest thing—the most horrible thing—was that the decapitated bodies did not fall. Instead, they bent down, retrieved their own heads from the bloodstained stone, and attempted to place them back upon their necks.
"Excellent. Yes, very good," the man said with evident satisfaction, watching his handiwork. The fact that the heads were positioned at wrong angles—one facing backward, the other tilted grotesquely—didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.
Then he vanished.
---
## — The Return —
"...What you're looking for is there," Daisy said, pointing toward the Rohanson estate.
The man glanced through the carriage window at the distant manor, gave Daisy an appraising look, and nodded. He seemed to acknowledge that her presence was no longer necessary—she had fulfilled her part of the bargain by bringing him here.
"Yes, I can smell him. It seems he's settled in quite comfortably."
"...Perhaps."
If he meant the "eyes," then it appeared they had never left the Rohanson estate at all.
Daisy wanted nothing more than to leave. She was terrified that those eyes would see her again, that their countless gazes would find her and *know* her. She wanted to be as far from this place as possible—and equally far from this man who, despite his pleasant appearance, filled her with bone-deep terror.
*This monster was summoned by me.*
The thought made her chest constrict with horror. Her mistake had taken on flesh and blood and was now roaming free in the world, leaving death and impossibility in its wake.
Their deal ended here. He had said he needed to see "the eyes." Once his business was concluded, he would leave.
*He won't stay here... will he?*
During their journey, he had killed quite a few people. He'd severed their heads with casual ease, enjoying what he called "a long-forgotten feast," and then—as if in mockery of death itself—he'd reattached them.
Those who should have died now walked among the living. If not for the thin red lines circling their necks, they would have been indistinguishable from ordinary people.
*Perhaps this man resurrected Evangeline too?*
But no—he hadn't known about the Rohanson estate before she'd brought him here...
"If you ever need assistance, call for me." The man stepped down from the carriage, then paused and looked back with a sharp-toothed smile. "But next time, I'll charge you full price."
Through the small window, Daisy watched him walk toward the cherry blossom tree at the heart of the estate gardens. The tree was still blooming, its petals drifting like pink snow—even though weeks had passed since Evangeline's death.
"Where are we going?" the coachman asked.
Daisy startled. "Where... are we going?"
The coachman turned his head to look at her. His gaze was empty, wrong. Daisy's throat tightened.
"Where are we going?"
She remained silent, and the question—uttered in the same flat, mechanical voice—repeated itself.
"Where are we going?"
Again. And again.
He wouldn't rest until he received an answer. Daisy's eyes dropped to the thin red line encircling the coachman's neck.
Remembering the terrible day at the estate—remembering all the horrors she had witnessed today—Daisy finally made her decision.
"To the temple," she answered.
---
## — Evangeline —
"Help!"
I found myself face-to-face with a talking black wolf.
My first instinct was to attack and—*wait*. That's not how this works.
Was he injured? If he hadn't been able to speak, I might have mistaken him for an ordinary wild animal.
But he *spoke*!
Memories of every romance novel I'd ever read came flooding back. Magic. A dark atmosphere. I'd suspected this world was based on a fairly old story, but now there was no doubt. Why?
Because this was a **werewolf**! A talking black wolf? It was obvious. A simple formula, really—like basic math.
The main character was most likely Gabriel, so did that mean this wolf was the *second* male lead? Questions swirled through my mind.
The plot was already taking shape...
---