That morning—
“Ahhh~”
…
As usual, Harlyn was feeding her mother.
But this time, Harlyn’s drawn-out murmur went unanswered.
The spoon touched Meryl’s lips.
Mom, please eat.
“I’ve been cooking better lately…”
“Potatoes need to be cooked until they’re soft.”
“You have to taste it while adding the seasoning…”
Meryl didn’t respond.
“Why, Mom…?” Harlyn lowered her head as she spoke.
…
Harlyn suddenly remembered.
It’s not like we eat vegetable soup every day,
Mom and Dad always change the courses for me!
“Do you want some meat, Mom?” Harlyn smiled brightly.
“Harlyn will get you the most delicious meat in the forest!”
She quickly put the spoon down and climbed off the table.
***
Without her teddy bear, without her books—
Harlyn walked into the kitchen.
A knife gleamed.
Her hand reached out—then paused.
Gulp.
Harlyn turned to look at her mother.
…
The bowl on the table was still full.
Meryl’s once-red lips were now pale pink.
Harlyn’s eyes sharpened.
Without thinking further, she grabbed the knife and tucked it behind her pants.
Just as she was about to leave the house, she suddenly stopped—
Something caught her attention.
That fruit.
The fruit Harlyn had picked on her birthday.
The fruit Meryl had kept since that day—
It was now withered and shriveled.
***
Gentle sunlight illuminated the garden.
Once overflowing with color—
now dulled and thinning.
Harlyn crouched in front of the patch of land, glancing around as if searching.
“Ah… here.”
Her small hands dug a shallow hole beside the tree where she had picked the fruit.
“You should return home now,” Harlyn murmured, gazing at the shriveled fruit in her palm.
“I can’t take care of you.”
She carefully buried it.
“I need to take care of my mom now.”
Harlyn stood and brushed the dirt from her pants.
The village lay ahead.
She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she last left the house.
To her, the garden gate felt like a thin line—
a boundary between safety and fear.
She inhaled deeply.
Her leg moved.
***
That familiar peace returned, she is already at the forest.
Harlyn leaned against a tree, breathing hard.
… I ran fast enough…
Chirp. Chirp.
She turned.
Nearby, a bird pecked at the ground.
Harlyn slowed her breathing.
Carefully, she crept closer.
And then— She lunged.
“Hah!”
Boof—
Her face hit the ground as the bird burst into flight.
Harlyn lay there, face-down, sobbing.
How am I going to feed Mom now…?
…
Something wet brushed her hand.
Harlyn lifted her head, tears clinging to her lashes.
“Fluffe…?”
The rabbit rubbed its head against her cheek.
“Fluffe!”
Harlyn sat up and hugged it tightly.
***
The rabbit soon lay asleep on Harlyn’s lap, its soft fur warmed beneath her hand.
Her fingers froze.
A chill of realization ran down her spine.
The forest seemed to draw inward.
Harlyn slowly looked down.
Beneath her palm, the rabbit’s heartbeat was steady.
No…
Her other hand slowly slipped behind her back—trembling—and drew out the knife.
Her breathing quickened.
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I’m sorry—
Her vision dimmed.
The last thing she felt—Fluffe resting lightly on her thighs.
***
The door creaked open.
Harlyn entered the house.
Her clothing was stained red in several places.
The rabbit’s lifeless body dragged along the floor behind her.
She placed it on the kitchen counter.
Harlyn stood there for a long moment, her shadow unmoving.
She reached for the fleshing knife Hale used to skin a Killogs, resting on the shelf.
The blade trembled against the rabbit’s body.
Unlike Hale’s quick, practiced movements—
each scrape felt like a knife carving straight into Harlyn’s chest.
***
A steaming pot of soup sat in the center of the table.
Only one bowl was placed before Meryl.
“Ahh—”
Harlyn’s once-affectionate murmur had grown hollow.
No longer different from Meryl’s own.
***
The sun had long since set.
For Harlyn, it had felt dark ever since.
The house was lit by a single candle on the dining table.
Meryl sat there, unmoving.
Harlyn huddled on the kitchen floor, knees pulled tight to her chest.
The soup pot sat cold on the stove.
Only her portion remained.
Grrrrl—
Her stomach growled.
Harlyn glanced at the pot, hesitating.
Grrrrl.
Gulp.
…
Immediately, she climbed onto the stool and pulled it down.
No spoon.
No fork.
No ladle.
Harlyn grabbed the food with her bare hands—
shoving it into her mouth, chewing like a starving animal.
Footsteps sounded in the garden.
Slow. Distant.
They stopped at the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Harlyn froze.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Slowly, she stood and reached for the knife on the stove.
Carefully, she approached the door.
She peeked outside.
A young man stood there—no more than twenty.
Even in the darkness, his bright blue hair stood out.
He looked down and smiled.
“Harlyn, right?”
“Who are you?” Harlyn asked flatly.
The man chuckled.
“I don’t know if your mother’s told you, but…”
“I’m your uncle.”
Harlyn didn’t answer—or let him in.
She simply observed him.
The man blinked.
“So cautious…”
“Just like Meryl,” he muttered.
Harlyn tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
“Ah—uh.”
He cleared his throat.
“I’m your mother’s younger brother. Jukig.”
Harlyn thought for a moment.
Then she placed the knife back on the shelf.
She opened the door—
and immediately ran back to her corner to eat.
Jukig stared after her.
“Why aren’t you sitting with your mother?” he asked awkwardly.
Harlyn didn’t answer—
She kept eating.
Jukig rested a hand on Meryl’s shoulder.
“Sister… aren’t you going to do anything about this?”
“She’s eating with her hands,” he whispered.
Meryl didn’t respond.
Jukig didn’t mind much.
“Hale? Are you home?” he called out.
“I came to visit!”
No answer.
He turned back and lightly shook Meryl’s shoulder.
“Sister, where’s Hale?”
Still nothing.
He shook her again. “Sister?”
“I tried, Uncle…”
Harlyn’s voice was small.
“It won’t work…”
Jukig’s smile faded.
He turned back to Meryl. “What’s wrong with Harlyn?”
“Meryl?”
…
“Meryl?!”
This time, he shook her harder.
But Meryl remained seated—like a log.
A sense of dread crept in.
“Meryl!” Jukig pulled her to her feet.
…
Her eyes were vacant.
Her face cold.
This wasn’t the sister he knew.
“M-Meryl…?”
He then cried out.
“Hale!”
Only his own voice echoed back.
He turned sharply to Harlyn.
“Harlyn, where’s your father?!”
Panic filled his voice.
“What happened to Meryl?!”
Harlyn curled tighter, burying her face in her knees.
“I don’t know…”
***
Candlelight illuminated the table.
Harlyn and Jukig sat opposite each other.
Meryl remained at the head—motionless, like a statue.
Harlyn stared at her uncle, eyes heavy with sorrow.
Jukig covered his face with his hands.
A soft sob escaped him now and then.
After a long breath, he lowered them.
“Harlyn…”
“I’m not well-off,” he said hoarsely.
“So you have two choices.”
Harlyn listened.
“One—I take you and your mother with me.”
He swallowed.
“But I’d have to sell this house.”
Harlyn’s eyes widened.
“Two—you keep the house.”
His voice shook.
“But I won’t stay. I’ll send necessities each month.”
“NO!”
Harlyn slammed her arm down.
“I CHOOSE THE SECOND!”
“DON’T TAKE MY HOUSE!”
Tears spilled from her eyes.
Jukig closed his eyes.
“…Then we’ll do it that way.”
Harlyn turned to her mother.
The candlelight brushed her blank face.
“Mom,” she said, voice breaking.
“It’s time to sleep.”
She wiped her tears and took Meryl’s hand.
Jukig remained seated.
***
Harlyn tugged her mother toward the bed.
“I won’t let anyone take our house.”
She pulled the blanket up.
“I don’t want to lose it too…”
She pressed her teddy bear against Meryl’s chest.
“Please protect Mom,” she whispered.
Harlyn hugged her mother one last time.
“Good night, Mom.”
…
