Morning came to the Western region without bringing any warmth.
Fog still hung low among the trees, covering the path and making the surrounding houses look like vague shadows. The air felt damp. Dew soaked the grass, while the sound of birds echoed from deep within the forest.
Harry stood in front of his house, holding an empty cup.
His eyes were fixed on the neighboring house.
The old house was still the same as yesterday.
Its wooden walls were dull.
Its paint was peeling.
Its roof was covered in moss.
But after what had happened last night, Harry no longer saw it as just an old house.
There was something there.
Something being hidden.
Harry breathed in the morning air.
The scent of earth.
Wet wood.
Smoke from a chimney.
And...
blood.
It was extremely faint.
But his nose was able to pick it up.
Harry frowned.
“So my sense of smell really has changed.”
He touched his own nose.
Ever since the werewolf had bitten him, his senses had grown sharper.
At first, he thought it was all just a coincidence.
But now he was beginning to believe it.
This body was changing.
Not just physically.
Something was awakening inside him.
Harry turned his gaze toward his neighbor’s house.
Yesterday, he had fought with the old man.
Today, he wanted to find out more.
Not because he wanted to meddle.
At least...
that was what he told himself.
“If that creature really lives around here, I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
Harry grabbed his jacket and left the house.
He closed the door.
Click.
Then he walked toward the fence.
Before he could open it, a voice came from the neighboring house.
“Hey!”
Harry stopped.
A deep voice.
Harsh.
The old man stood in front of his house.
He was holding an ax.
His gaze was sharp.
“You.”
Harry pointed at himself.
“Me?”
“Who else?”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Mornin’, old man.”
“What are you doing in your yard?”
“Walking.”
“Walking?”
“Yeah.”
The old man narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t come near my house.”
Harry smiled faintly.
“Relax. I’m not interested in your house.”
“Good.”
“But I am interested in something behind it.”
The old man’s expression changed.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Harry saw it.
The old man blinked.
His grip tightened around the ax handle.
Then his expression returned to normal.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Harry said nothing.
Interesting.
That reaction had been too fast.
Harry stepped closer.
“I saw tracks behind your house.”
“There’s nothing there.”
“Footprints.”
“Animal tracks.”
“They’re too big for a dog.”
The old man didn’t answer.
Harry watched him.
“I also saw something last night.”
“I told you not to meddle.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
“If that creature gets into my house, doesn’t that make it my business?”
The old man fell silent.
Harry continued.
“And I don’t like something wandering around my house when I don’t even know what it is.”
The old man snorted.
“You’ve only lived here a few days.”
“That’s right.”
“So listen to me.”
He pointed toward the forest.
“If you want to live a long time in the Western region, don’t go looking for trouble.”
Harry leaned against the fence.
“Sounds like you know a lot about this place.”
“I’ve lived here for thirty years.”
“Thirty years?”
“Yeah.”
Harry studied the old man’s face.
“Thirty years, and you’re still alive.”
“Don’t underestimate old people.”
“I’m not underestimating you.”
Harry smiled.
“I’m curious.”
The old man stared at Harry for a long moment.
Then he sighed.
“The Western region wasn’t always like this.”
Harry said nothing.
“This place used to be pretty lively.”
“Lively?”
“Yeah.”
The old man sat down in a wooden chair on the porch.
Harry moved closer too, but remained standing.
“Twenty years ago, a lot of people came here.”
“For what?”
“Timber. Mining. Trade.”
He pointed toward the forest.
“That forest used to produce a lot of wood.”
“And then?”
“People started disappearing.”
Harry frowned.
“Bandits?”
“At first, that’s what we thought.”
The old man gazed at the forest.
“But the people who disappeared were never found.”
“Their bodies?”
“Nothing.”
“Their belongings?”
“Nothing.”
Harry fell silent.
“As if they just vanished?”
The old man nodded.
“That’s right.”
Harry stared at the fog.
“How many?”
“Dozens.”
“Dozens?”
“Every year.”
Harry sighed.
“And the kingdom didn’t do anything?”
“The kingdom sent soldiers once.”
“And?”
“They came back.”
“All of them?”
The old man smiled bitterly.
“No.”
Harry said nothing.
“Thirty soldiers entered the forest.”
He looked at Harry.
“Eight came back.”
Harry felt something prickle at the nape of his neck.
“What about the others?”
“They were never found.”
Silence.
The wind swept through the yard.
The leaves moved slowly.
Harry finally asked,
“What kind of creature lives in that forest?”
The old man didn’t answer right away.
He looked at Harry with a strange expression.
“If I knew, I’d probably have been dead a long time ago.”
“So you don’t know?”
“I know enough not to dig any deeper.”
Harry nodded slowly.
“That’s a reasonable answer.”
The old man stood up.
“Get inside your house before the fog gets any thicker.”
Harry frowned.
“Why?”
“Because this morning’s fog is different.”
Harry looked around.
“How is it different?”
The old man didn’t answer.
He went inside the house.
But before closing the door, he stopped.
“Harry.”
Harry turned.
“Yeah?”
“If you hear a sound from the forest tonight...”
The old man looked at him seriously.
“Don’t go outside.”
The door slammed shut.
Bang.
Harry stood there alone.
“Getting more suspicious by the minute.”
He smiled faintly.
“He’s obviously hiding something.”
Harry didn’t go home right away.
He walked around his neighbor’s house.
He kept his distance from the windows.
Then he headed toward the back.
The closer he got to the forest, the stronger the scent of blood became.
Harry crouched down.
The ground was still wet.
Among the grass, he saw tracks.
Three toes.
Long.
With clawlike tips.
Harry touched them.
They were still fresh.
“This isn’t human.”
He studied the tracks.
The creature had feet shaped like a human’s.
But they were much larger.
Harry followed the tracks.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
The tracks led behind the shed.
Harry stopped.
The shed was small.
Its door was closed.
The wood had rotted.
But something about it caught Harry’s attention.
Long lines were visible across the door.
Scrape.
Scrape.
Scrape.
As if something had clawed at it from the outside.
Harry moved closer.
He touched the claw marks.
Deep.
Very deep.
“These claws...”
Harry frowned.
Whatever had done this possessed incredible strength.
Suddenly—
Crack.
Harry turned.
The sound had come from behind him.
But there was no one there.
He drew his dagger.
“Who’s there?”
Silence.
Harry watched the trees.
There was no movement.
Then his nose caught a scent.
Blood.
Harry moved quickly.
He followed the scent toward the side of the house.
Something lay beneath the window.
A piece of cloth.
Harry picked it up.
The cloth was dark brown.
There was blood on it.
And...
an odd scent.
Not human.
Not animal.
Harry brought it close to his nose.
The scent of flowers.
Iron.
And something rotten.
Harry immediately dropped it.
“Disgusting.”
He stuffed the cloth into his pocket.
It might come in handy later.
As he stood—
the old man’s voice came from behind him.
“What are you doing?”
Harry turned around.
The old man stood in the back doorway of the house.
His face was much paler than before.
Harry held up the cloth he had found.
“Found this.”
The old man’s gaze immediately locked onto the cloth.
His expression changed.
“Throw it away.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Throw it away. Now.”
“Whose is it?”
“Throw it away!”
Harry didn’t move.
“Answer my question.”
The old man walked closer.
“That isn’t something you should be holding.”
“Why?”
“Because its smell will attract attention.”
Harry fell silent.
“Whose attention?”
The old man didn’t answer.
Harry smiled faintly.
“So it’s true.”
“What’s true?”
“There is something.”
The old man stared at Harry.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then he said quietly,
“That creature isn’t like an animal.”
Harry put the cloth in his pocket.
“What’s it called?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many are there?”
“One.”
“You sure?”
The old man shook his head.
“That’s the problem.”
Harry stared at him.
“There might be more than one.”
The old man sighed.
“We used to call it the Watcher.”
“The Watcher?”
“Because it doesn’t always attack.”
Harry frowned.
“Then what does it do?”
“It watches.”
Harry fell silent.
“Waits.”
“Waits for what?”
The old man looked toward Harry’s house.
“Newcomers.”
Harry felt the air suddenly grow colder.
“So ever since I arrived...”
“Yes.”
The old man nodded.
“Ever since you moved here, those sounds have returned.”
Harry looked toward his house.
“Knocking?”
“Knocking.”
“Scratching?”
“Scratching.”
“Shadows?”
The old man nodded.
Harry sighed.
“Why didn’t you ever tell Aria?”
The question made the old man fall silent.
“She’s lived here long enough.”
“She...”
The old man lowered his head.
“She’s too scared.”
Harry fell silent.
Memories of Aria surfaced.
Aria, who always kept her windows closed.
Aria, who was afraid to go outside at night.
Aria, who often woke up because of the knocking sounds.
Aria, who thought it was all because she was too paranoid.
Harry clenched his fists.
“So all this time...”
“Yes.”
The old man looked at Harry.
“She isn’t crazy.”
The words left Harry speechless.
The wind blew again.
The fog slowly drifted between the trees.
Suddenly, Harry caught a scent.
The same scent.
Flowers.
Iron.
Smoke.
His eyes narrowed.
“Old man.”
“What?”
“Don’t move.”
The old man froze.
Harry stared at the wall of the house.
There was something there.
Not outside.
Inside.
A very faint sound could be heard.
Knock.
Harry turned.
Knock.
The old man immediately went pale.
Knock... knock...
Harry raised his dagger.
“What’s that sound?”
The old man didn’t answer.
Knock... knock... knock...
This time, it was louder.
And the sound wasn’t coming from the door.
Not the window.
Not the floor.
But...
the wall.
Harry slowly moved closer.
He pressed his ear against the wall.
Silence.
Then—
Knock.
Right beside his ear.
Harry stepped back.
“There’s something inside.”
The old man whispered.
“Don’t.”
Harry turned.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t knock back.”
Harry stared at him.
“Why?”
The old man swallowed.
“Because if you knock...”
Knock.
The sound stopped.
Harry waited.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three—
KNOCK!
The wall trembled.
Harry instinctively stepped back.
Then came a sound like fingernails scraping wood from behind the wall.
Screeeeech...
Slowly.
Long and drawn out.
From top to bottom.
Harry tightened his grip on the dagger.
“That creature...”
Screeeeech...
The scratching stopped directly behind him.
Harry turned.
There was nothing there.
But the scent grew stronger.
Much stronger.
Suddenly, the old man grabbed Harry’s arm.
“Get inside.”
“What?”
“Get inside now!”
“Why?”
“Because it knows we heard it.”
Harry fell silent.
For the first time, he saw the old man’s true fear.
He wasn’t afraid of Harry.
He wasn’t afraid of the monster in the forest.
He was afraid of something he didn’t even dare to name.
Knock.
Another knock sounded.
This time...
from the wall directly behind them.
Knock.
Harry slowly turned.
A small crack had appeared in the wooden surface.
The crack grew longer.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then, from that narrow gap...
something black emerged.
Like a claw.
Harry raised his rifle.
The old man whispered shakily,
“Don’t.”
Harry didn’t take his eyes off it.
“Why?”
The old man answered in a voice barely loud enough to hear.
“Because if you attack it...”
The black claw slowly withdrew.
The crack stopped spreading.
The atmosphere fell silent again.
“...it will remember your face.”
Harry froze.
Then came the sound of breathing.
Not from outside.
Not from the forest.
But from behind the wall.
Haaaaaah...
Harry looked at the old man.
The old man looked back.
His face was pale.
Then he whispered—
“Don’t let it know that we heard it.”