The place where I newly opened my eyes was literally painted entirely white.
It was an overwhelming expanse of pristine white: a white table, a white ceiling, white walls, and three men dressed in pure white robes sat calmly before me.
The starkness of the surroundings was almost disorienting after the grimy, shadowed alley I had just left.
My head spun for a moment, trying to reconcile the abrupt shift in scenery.
“Wh-who are you?!”
My voice, surprisingly steady despite the shock, echoed slightly in the unnervingly silent room.
Their ages varied widely, from a boy, perhaps no older than Nyel from the market, to a stern-faced middle-aged man, and finally, a wise-looking elder whose eyes held a profound calm.
As I glared at them with wary eyes, my hand instinctively dropping to the satchel at my side, the oldest man smiled kindly, a gentle expression that did little to soothe my rising apprehension.
They knew my name, naturally.
That single, unsettling fact heightened my unease.
How could they know my name, I, Mayhem, a simple sheep beast-folk from a faraway land?
It was impossible, unless they were somehow connected to the strange talisman, to the golden light that had whisked me away.
The implications sent a shiver down my spine.
“Who are you, and how do you know my name? No, more importantly, why am I here?”
My questions tumbled out, each one laced with a growing urgency. I needed answers, and I needed them now.
The calm, composed demeanor of the men before me was utterly unnerving.
“It’s natural for you to be surprised. We brought you here without any prior notice. We apologize for that first.”
The elder spoke to me with consistently polite tones, his voice soft and soothing, almost too polite given the circumstances.
It was the kind of politeness that could hide a multitude of intentions.
“It’s a humble offering, but we’ve prepared these vegetables for Miss Mayhem. We hope you’ll enjoy them comfortably. In the meantime, I will explain what exactly has happened.”
He gestured towards the pristine white table, and my gaze followed, noting a pile of fresh-looking vegetables stacked high, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the monochrome room.
The thinly julienned carrots, in various hues, were particularly appetizing, each slice looking perfectly crisp.
‘They look so crunchy!’
The thought, almost involuntary, flitted through my mind.
It was a testament to how truly delicious they appeared, even in my state of high alert.
But this wasn’t the time to leisurely eat carrots, no matter how appealing they looked.
My mind raced, grappling with the immediacy of my situation.
I didn’t know how I could ever hope to meet the Emperor and Sir Chris again, or how to escape this inexplicable place.
And even if these people outwardly showed a welcoming, even benevolent, attitude, I didn’t know when their intentions might change, when that gentle smile might twist into something far more sinister.
Most importantly, what they wanted from me, why I had been brought here so abruptly, was still utterly unclear.
The uncertainty gnawed at me.
Just then, my hand instinctively reached into my bag, my fingers closing around the familiar, solid hilt of the two-handed dagger made by the renowned weapon artisan Perello Krichel.
It was a comforting weight in my palm. I pulled it out, its sharp blade gleaming faintly in the ethereal white light of the room, and pointed it at them, my arm surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my voice.
“Send me back to where I came from. Otherwise, I’ll use th-this!”
My voice was filled with an anger I hoped would mask the fear gnawing at my insides.
It was a desperate bluff, but it was all I had.
“It would be best to put down what you have in your hand, for now. As I said again, we don’t intend to harm Miss Mayhem; we simply wish to talk.”
The elder’s voice remained calm, utterly unfazed by my threat.
His composure was almost infuriating.
“So, you had a child give me a talisman to use me?”
My angry voice rose, suspicion hardening my tone.
The pieces of the puzzle were slowly starting to click into place, forming a picture I didn’t like.
Even with my furious outburst, the elder showed no sign of being flustered, no hint of irritation or surprise.
Instead, he calmly continued his explanation, his steady gaze unwavering.
“Yes, that’s right. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to meet Miss Mayhem.”
His blunt honesty was almost disarming.
“…Why is that?”
I pressed, my voice softening slightly, intrigued despite myself.
“Because His Majesty doesn’t wish for our meeting. As a last resort, we even sent an invitation to a vegetarian beast-folk vegetable tasting, but you still didn’t come…”
He sighed, a faint hint of disappointment in his voice, as if my absence from a vegetable tasting was a grave missed opportunity.
Suddenly, a memory resurfaced, vivid and almost comical.
I remembered the elegant, beautifully calligraphed vegetable tasting invitation that had come to me a while ago, addressed to “Miss Mayhem, of the Esteemed Sheep Folk.”
How I had drooled at the thought of herbivorous beast-folk gathering to taste vegetables together, a culinary dream for a sheep like me.
I had dismissed it then, caught up in the whirlwind of the Emperor’s court, but now, its significance seemed to have escalated dramatically.
But there was something else that puzzled me, a crucial piece of information I was missing.
“Why doesn’t His Majesty want us to meet?”
The question was direct, probing at the heart of the mystery.
“First, let us introduce ourselves. We are priests who serve Wishid, the God of Genesis.”
The elder’s tone shifted, a note of reverence entering his voice as he spoke the name of his deity.
“Priests?”
Only then did I truly take in my surroundings.
The interior, though humble in its materials, was meticulously decorated, laid out like a temple banquet hall.
It showed clear signs of being diligently cleaned and maintained every single day, radiating a quiet, devoted energy.
The white was not just sterile; it was sanctified.
The elder, who had been doing most of the talking, spoke to the boy sitting next to him, his voice gentle.
“Nyel, would you continue the rest of the story?”
The boy, Nyel, had gentle, light brown eyes filled with warmth, an almost childlike innocence that belied the weighty topic.
He nodded, then asked me in a soft voice, “Have you perhaps had any strange dreams recently? For example, suddenly turning into the form of a sheep…”
The words struck me like a physical blow.
I had had such a dream, a vivid, unsettling experience when I spent the night with the Emperor after being left behind during the hunting festival.
It was a dream I had never told anyone about, a private, almost shameful secret.
I couldn’t hide my profound surprise, my jaw probably hanging open.
“…How on earth do you know that?”
My voice was barely a whisper, filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
“A new oracle has descended. Regarding the divine proxy who will lead the wolves to the path of light, so they can break free from their long curse.”
Nyel’s voice, though soft, held a solemn resonance.
‘A divine proxy…?’
The term swirled in my mind, a concept far too grand and important to be associated with someone like me.
“What does that have to do with me?”
I asked, still trying to grasp the enormity of what they were suggesting.
“Before that, there’s something else we need to explain. Miss Mayhem, are you aware that in the beginning, our beast-folk originally had the appearance of animals?”
Nyel continued, patiently laying out the foundational knowledge.
“Yes, I know that.”
It was common knowledge, a part of our shared history.
“Then it will be easy to explain. As you know, our beast-folk only resembled animals in appearance, but unlike them, we could communicate and start fires.”
He spoke of our earliest ancestors, of a time before our current forms.
Up to that point, it was exactly what I had learned in the stories and histories passed down through generations.
As I nodded, affirming my understanding, Nyel continued his explanation, his gaze earnest.
“We don’t know the specifics, but in that process, the wolves and sheep committed an unforgivable sin. Because of that, they received this terrible curse.”
His voice grew grave, a shadow passing over his young face.
“A terrible curse?”
My mind immediately went to the Emperor’s condition, to the suffering of the wolf beast-folk.
“In the case of wolf beast-folk, if they lose their imprinted partner, their minds collapse. It’s like living without truly being alive.
So, it cannot be expressed in any other way than as a curse.”
His explanation solidified my understanding of the wolves’ plight, emphasizing the profound tragedy of their existence, forever bound to a single partner, and doomed if that bond was broken.
“But the sheep beast-folk didn’t receive any punishment?”
I asked, a flicker of hope and confusion stirring within me.
We, the sheep, had always seemed blessed, not cursed.
“That cannot be. God loves all creation, so He does not grant a great wish without any price.”
The elder’s voice rejoined the conversation, firm and unwavering, dispelling any notion of the sheep being exempt from cosmic balance.
However, even if I racked my brain, our sheep beast-folk had no memory of being cursed by Briar, or any other divine entity.
On the contrary, we had seemingly received more love than we deserved, enjoying peace and prosperity in our homeland.
This contradiction left me deeply perplexed.
“Let’s assume that’s true for now. But how are you so sure that I’m that divine proxy?”
I pressed, skepticism still strong within me. I was just Mayhem, not some chosen figure.
“The mark on your horn is the proof that you are His proxy.”
The elder’s gaze settled on my horn, on the strange, unknown symbol that had appeared in place of the honorable sheep’s seal.
Seeing it, my mom and dad had worried it might be a mark of sin, a stain upon my lineage.
But here in Hamilon, in this pristine temple, they were calling it a divine proxy.
This whole situation was just confusing to me, a bewildering tapestry of conflicting interpretations.
“But… I don’t have any special abilities to break curses or anything like that?”
I felt the need to clarify, to bring them back to reality. I was hardly a sorceress.
At this, the elder, who had been quietly listening to the conversation unfold, spoke again, his eyes twinkling slightly.
“In that regard, Miss Mayhem, there’s something we’d like to show you. Would you be able to follow us?”
His tone suggested a revelation was at hand.
I couldn’t unconditionally trust the words of people I had just met, people who had literally abducted me from an alley.
However, if this was truly related to the mark of sin my mom and dad had spoken of, to the mystery surrounding my horn, I needed to know.
Even if only to prevent Mom and Dad from worrying again when I eventually cleared my name and returned to Motherland.
The thought of their anxiety spurred me on.
“Yes, I’ll go.”
My decision was made, driven by a need for answers and a protective instinct for my family.
I walked with them out of the banquet hall and through the temple’s interior.
As we moved, I noticed there weren’t as many people coming and going inside as I expected.
Usually, a temple, especially one dedicated to a God of Genesis, would be bustling with devotees coming to pray, to seek guidance, or to offer thanks.
The silence was almost eerie.
Noticing my puzzled gaze, Nyel explained with an awkward expression, a slight flush on his cheeks.
“Our temple currently has almost no visitors. Even if there are those suffering from the mark, we priests cannot do anything for them.”
It was a sorrowful expression, a mixture of shame, despair, and sadness, reflecting the helplessness of their situation.
Not knowing how to comfort him, I quietly followed behind, absorbing the unspoken grief of their faith.
Inside the room we finally arrived at, a truly wondrous sight awaited us.
A huge parchment glowing with golden light and a delicate feather quill were floating effortlessly in mid-air, suspended as if by an invisible hand.
Awe filled the wrinkled elder’s face, his eyes fixed on the ethereal display.
“These are the words Wishid bestows upon us.”
His voice was hushed, reverent.
“W-words?”
I stammered, drawn closer by an irresistible curiosity.
Looking closely, there were letters, glowing with the same soft golden light, meticulously written on the parchment.
[My children, connected by a blue thread, shall appear on this land with the divine mark.]
“‘The divine mark’ has been interpreted, but we are still searching for the meaning of ‘the blue thread’.”
The elder explained, his brow furrowed in thought.
“Is there something even the priests don’t know?”
I asked, surprised that even these devoted servants of God would have gaps in their divine understanding.
“We are not gods. As mere humans, we read the words of God and merely presume to guess their meaning.”
His answer was humble, a reminder of the vast chasm between mortals and the divine.
Suddenly, a memory, seemingly unrelated, flashed into my mind: the last request I had received to become a problem solver.
As always, Taviren had applied dye to my eyes so I could find the client, but the smoke, which should have appeared a familiar red, had oddly shimmered blue.
‘No way… it can’t be?’
A chilling possibility, a connection I hadn’t dared to consider, began to form.
There was another message, etched in the same golden light, written on the parchment besides that one.
[When you return to your primal form and recall the day you committed sin, you shall eventually unleash the complete power of God.]
If those words were true, it meant that the dream of me turning into a sheep, the unsettling night after the hunting festival, was the day I committed sin.
But even so, I had never once displayed the complete power of God.
I was always ridiculed for not even being able to manifest simple magic, a source of constant frustration and embarrassment.
It was something I couldn’t accept, no matter how much I wanted to believe in some hidden power.
“Were you referring to this text when you said that earlier?”
I gestured to the glowing parchment, seeking confirmation.
“Yes, that’s right.”
Nyel confirmed softly.
“What if, by some very slim chance, the person with the divine mark isn’t me?”
I posited, still clinging to the notion that this entire elaborate setup was a mistake.
“That cannot be. The symbol on your left horn is Wishid’s symbol.”
The elder’s voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. His conviction was absolute.
As I stood there with a complex expression, my mind reeling from the implications, the elder looked at me and continued, his voice softer now.
“Miss Mayhem, you have probably already met someone with the same mark.”
“How do you… know that?”
My voice was barely a whisper.
The idea that someone else, anyone else, shared this strange mark was deeply unsettling.
“The first oracle written on that parchment has not changed for thousands of years. But recently, the second oracle was newly written. That means the children connected by the blue thread have not been able to come here together until now.”
The elder’s words hung in the air, revealing a profound history, a long-awaited prophecy finally unfolding.
The person they were referring to, the one with the same mark, could only be the Emperor.
But that made me even more curious, deepening the mystery surrounding him.
“Earlier, you said His Majesty didn’t want me to come here. I’m curious why.”
My question was tinged with a mix of suspicion and a strange, unacknowledged concern for the Emperor’s feelings.
Their faces visibly darkened at my question, the previous warmth replaced by a somber gravity.
They hesitated for a long time, their gazes dropping, before answering with shadowed expressions, their voices lowered as if speaking of a painful secret.
“…In truth, His Majesty used to come here every day during his Crown Prince days. He prayed to Lord Wishid without fail.”
That cynical man, who claimed not to believe in gods, who scoffed at faith, was such a devout believer.
I heard it with my own ears, and I still couldn’t believe it.
The image of the proud, detached Emperor kneeling in prayer, day after day, was utterly incongruous with the man I knew.
“But after that day…”
The elder’s voice trailed off, filled with a palpable sadness.
“That day?”
I prompted, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.
What tragedy could have transformed such a devout believer into the man he was now?
When the elder spoke up to that point, a distinct sound could be heard approaching from afar, cutting through the hushed silence of the temple.
Stomp, stomp.
The heavy, deliberate footsteps grew louder, closer, echoing ominously through the quiet halls.
Turning around, my heart leaped as I saw him.
The Emperor.
His face was hardened, a mask of grim determination, and a twisted, almost cruel smile rested on his lips.
His presence alone filled the air with an undeniable power, a stark contrast to the ethereal serenity of the temple.
“To perform such acts with the power of God. Its prestige has not just fallen to the ground, but has been utterly crushed.”
A chilling voice, devoid of warmth or mercy, filled the interior of the temple, directed not at me, but at the priests, a cold condemnation that promised retribution.
His eyes, burning with a fierce intensity, settled on the glowing parchment, a silent challenge to the divine words.