“Sick bastard.”
Lina and Halwen turned toward Leopold, disbelief plain on their faces. Of all the horrors the projection had revealed, this was the one that drew a comment from him.
They refocused on the image. Sieg and Alice stepped into the restaurant, the air thick with chatter and smoke. The place was packed, every table crowded. Alice’s eyes drifted over the patrons—each of them noticed the old man wandering with a child who clearly wasn’t his. And yet, as if bound by an unspoken rule, they all turned their faces away, pretending not to see.
Alice’s steps grew slower with every stride. Every part of her wanted to vomit from the noxious stench that seemed to seep from Sieg’s very being. She wanted to scream, to call for help, yet it was clear from the way people averted their eyes as she and Sieg passed — no one here would help her, even if he were killing her in front of them.
An attendant hurried forward and guided Sieg and Alice into a private booth. From the ease of it, it was obvious Sieg was a frequent guest.
“Bring me the usual,” Sieg ordered smoothly, “and your best caramelized meat for my young niece.”
Niece? The word struck Alice like bile rising in her throat. She nearly gagged. Once, she had thought only one deranged person would ever call her that. But now… another?
After a while, the attendant returned with their food. Before Alice, he set a cut of meat glazed in caramelized fat, its surface browned unevenly, the color too pale near the bone. Even without touching it, she could tell it was undercooked — the faint, metallic scent of raw flesh still clinging to it. She glanced at Sieg’s portion. His looked like a fresh kill: red, glistening, streaked with juices, as if the fire had barely kissed it. The sharp scent of wine followed, so heavy it drowned even the reek of blood.
And there were no plates. The meat had been dropped directly onto the table, the juices soaking into the crisp white cloth. No cutlery either. The only pretense of civility was the bottle of wine standing upright between them.
“Alice, have you ever seen a bear?” Sieg asked, already tearing into his portion with his bare hands.
“No, Herr Sieg.”
He bit down with an audible crack, chewing greedily, strands of meat clinging to his teeth. “Magnificent creatures,” he said through the mouthful, his tone almost reverent. “Powerful, untamed… they feast as if the world itself belongs to them. No hesitation. No shame.”
He ripped another piece free, his jaw working like a beast gnawing on a carcass. “A bear does not ask permission to eat. It takes. That’s what makes it glorious.”
“Do you know why humans are weak?” he continued.
Alice only shook her head.
“All this attitude. Cutlery. Etiquette—bullshit.” He raised the wine bottle to his lips, tilting it back and gulping straight from the neck. When he lowered it, he exhaled a long, guttural ahhh, like a predator announcing its kill.
“Now, Alice, you want to be strong for your mom too, don’t you? That’s why you need to be like a bear. And to be like a bear…” He grinned, red streaks staining his teeth. “You need to eat like a bear.”
Alice stared at the meat. She couldn’t look away. The sight of it filled her with a nausea that went deeper than the body — something instinctive, buried in the marrow. It wasn’t hunger that stirred inside her, but dread, a primal terror that whispered she was about to cross a line that could never be undone.
Her mind screamed for her to stop, yet she couldn’t — she knew that defying this man would only bring harm to her mother. The smell clung to her lungs, seeping into her thoughts until she could almost taste it without touching it. Each breath felt heavier, as if the air itself carried the same rot. It reminded her of graves, of warmth where there should have been cold, of something that should have stayed dead.
Her hands trembled above the table. She wasn’t afraid of the meat itself, but of what would happen if she ate it — the desecration of her soul, her psyche, and the last fragments of innocence still clinging to her. And as she stared, she felt it: the slow, suffocating pressure from the man in front of her, urging her to become an animal — just like he was.
“Eat it,” Sieg said, his tone flat and final, “or I will make sure your mom never finds work.”
Alice wanted to cry, but she knew it would do no good. So she forced herself to lean forward and bite into the caramelized, half-cooked meat set before her. The sweetness was overcome by the stench of rot and decay, mingling with the predatory lust radiating from the animal in front of her. The meat was too tough, the bone too firm to tear without a knife. Her jaw trembled in futility.
Sieg rose from his seat. With unsettling ease, he stepped behind her, one arm curling around her shoulders. He bent low, his breath hot against her cheek, and with his free hand he wrenched a chunk of meat free as if it were nothing.
Alice looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes. But Sieg only loomed closer, drooling, gnashing quietly—like a bear cornering its prey, savoring the moment before it sank its jaws.
“Now,” he whispered, “open your mouth.”
Alice tried. Her lips quivered, but every muscle resisted, clamping shut as if her own body rebelled against her will. Tears welled and slid down her cheeks. Sieg noticed. He did not rush. Calmly, almost tenderly, he pressed his other hand against her chin and forced her jaw open. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed the glistening meat past her lips.
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“Chew,” he murmured. “And swallow.”
This is what you deserve, the voice of her nemesis hissed through the projection. Do it, you selfish bastard. Do it—this man can make Mother’s life harder. Eat!
The meat was warm and slick against her tongue, the taste heavy and corroding — like eating rusted iron. The caramelized sugar felt like a sickening bile, not sweet or bitter but something wrong, something that didn’t belong in a living body. Each bite felt as if it scraped something out of her, as though her own soul were being chewed along with it.
She wanted to spit it out—to scream, to claw the taste from her mouth—but the world around her had already gone silent, leaving only her and the sound of her chewing on barely dead meat. It felt as if she were eating straight from the animal she had just killed.
By the time Sieg returned to his seat, Alice could no longer tell if she had swallowed food or the last piece of her own humanity.
“Now my little cub, that wasn’t so hard wasn’t it.”
“…”
“Was it?”
“No Herr Sieg, it wasn’t.”
“Good, but from now on its Papa Sieg.”
The suggestion alone was so revolting that even Halwen’s grip tightened as he watched. Lina caught it too—the clear disgust flickering in the Arkmarschall’s eyes. She herself wanted nothing more than to find this man and castrate him on the spot.
The projection pressed on. Sieg’s rambling continued, falling against Alice like a noise that she refused to hear.
What mattered was the single word forced from her lips—Papa—a word that belonged only to the Eagle himself. Her inner voice broke through the projection, thick with venom constantly telling her that this was what she deserved for being such a troublesome child.
Finally, the repulsive feast ended just as Alice was going to faint from the sheer exhaustion of hiding her disgust.
“I enjoyed our encounter, my little cub,” Sieg said. He conjured a rune, and a heavy pouch materialized in his hand. He set it gently on the table before Alice, as if it were a gift. Gold coins bulged the leather taut. “I am a man of my word. I only wished for your company, and I meant that. Here—something for you and your mother. I can’t let my little cub starve, now can I? Take it.”
Alice’s eyes lingered on the pouch. The golden pulse of wealth could silence the inevitable knock of the loan shark soon to come to their door. She hated herself for wanting it, yet she knew just how desperately she and her mother needed the money. The pantry was nearly empty, and the debt from the mortgage loomed right at their doorstep.
“But my little cub…” His smile was fake, laced with venom and a disgusting, fabricated politeness. “Don’t tell your mom about this, hm? Or things might get… bitey.”
Alice’s throat locked. She only nodded.
Sieg touched his ear, murmuring as though dictating to the air. “Accept Sylvaria.”
Alice’s head snapped up, confusion twisting into dread.
“That’s right,” Sieg continued smoothly. “I can make your mom’s life easier or harder. Everything was up to you.”
“…”
“What do you usually say when someone helps you?” Sieg asked.
“Thank you, Herr —” Alice began, but his gaze enough to make a girl like her fainted, froze the word in her throat.
Her lips trembled. “Papa Sieg.” The words felt like vomit choking in her throat. Every part of her being refused to say them — but she couldn’t disobey. She had seen exactly what the man was capable of.
It felt like desecrating her father’s memory, being forced to call such a repulsive creature by an affectionate name. And yet, what could she do? In a way, her sacrifice at least allowed her mother to find work, easing the burden Alice had brought upon her. So she convinced herself to endure it — despite how wrong it felt — lest her mother suffer again, just as she had after Alice pushed that boy down the stairs.
“Good. Starting today, you won’t go to school. You’ll meet me here. Understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good. Very good. Now go.”
Alice’s hand shook as she reached for the purse. She walked slowly toward the exit, every step a weight dragging her down. The patrons’ eyes, which had avoided her before, now followed her openly. The Bear was no longer the most terrifying thing in the room. She was.
The moment the door closed behind her, she ran. Her feet pounded the cobblestones, hair streaming behind her, strands whipping into her eyes until the world blurred. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
At last, she reached her only sanctuary. The great Ek tree loomed above, the place where her father lay buried. She collapsed at the earth, clawing fistfuls of soil and pressing them against her body, smearing herself in dirt. She pressed her cheek to the ground as if the earth itself could take her in.
Cleanse me, she begged in silence.
The projection blackened.
No images came, only a soundless hum that pressed against the air. Then came the cold — not the ordinary kind, but one that gnawed inward, threading through bone and thought alike. It was the residue of a mind fractured beyond words.
Lina shuddered. The air around her felt thin, each breath catching like ice scraping her throat. Halwen gritted his teeth, his mana flickering in uneven pulses.
And when the cold finally ebbed, it left behind only silence — the kind that no one dared to break.
After a while, the image returned. It revealed the moon—majestic in its veiled sky, glittering among a thousand diamonds. Alice reached her hand toward it.
So pure, she thought. Could I… could an impure being like me ever become like that? Could I rise away from all of this?
She lingered there, hand outstretched, drinking in the moon’s cold serenity.
“Alice?” The familiar voice broke the silence.
She turned. Sylvaria stood nearby, Wan at her side, wagging his tail furiously now that his mistress had returned.
“What are you doing here?” Sylvaria said, walking closer. “Didn’t I told you to go back home directly after school?”
Alice forced a little laugh. “… I’m sorry, Mom. Wan kept playing with me, and I got too tired and felt asleep here. I’m sorry.”
Her fingers clenched tighter around the purse she was hiding, its weight burning against her side.
“Don’t do that again, I can’t have you sick in the middle of everything.” Sylvaria said, “A place finally accepted my application.”
“Really? Where?”
“I’ll tell you later. For now, go wash up.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Alice obeyed. She scrubbed herself again and again, brushing her arms and face until her skin felt raw, as if it would peel away entirely. But no matter how hard she scoured, she couldn’t wash it off—the black fur still clung to her, staining her porcelain skin. Corruption etched deeper than water or soap could ever reach.
At last she gave up. She slipped into her pajamas, and before going to bed, she paused at the doorway, watching her mother leave once more.
Sylvaria was adjusting her clothes before heading out. The fabric shimmered faintly under the lamplight, too thin, too bright, cut in a way no ordinary workplace would ever require. A hint of heavy perfume drifted with her movements.
Alice’s chest tightened. “Stay safe, Mom.”
Sylvaria didn’t answered, not even a nod, she just went directly to the door.
She opened the door. A draft swept in, carrying the night’s chill. It slid along Alice’s spine and left her shivering with a thought she didn’t want to hold onto—that the mother she knew might already be gone.
“Please… Come home soon.”
She shook it off, forcing herself toward her bedroom.
If you have one bullet with Leopold and Sieg sitting in front of you, who would you shoot?
