Act 1: Bleeding

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Chapter 1. Late Summer Bog

“There is a child-snatching wraith in Lake Emera.”

At the end of the field there was a dead lake. With rotting waterweeds tangled like witch’s hair, the midday sun scarcely touched the shaded bog. The nurse had said that it was okay to wander anywhere but there.

“So don’t even go near Lake Emera. Even if it’s a bright sunny day! There is always a wraith with glistening red eyes awaiting for a delicious child to eat. Oh, dear young master, are you listening to me? You can even see it from the mansion at night. I saw it every stormy night when I was young master’s age.”

Boris, a young master of Jinneman household, was dubious of the nurse’s story but decided it to be true for now. Truthfully, although he always ventured outside the mansion and stared at the darkness on stormy nights to find the wraith of Lake Emera, Boris never saw even a glimpse of the red-eyes his nurse talked about. It gave an uneasy feeling to just cast it aside as a tale, however, since other people – especially old women – also had attested it to be true.

Besides, even without these stories, the mansion was full of dreadful events. Since some time ago, Boris tried not to think about such somber things. He disliked the stuffy morose that accompanied the nightmares he woke up from covered in sweat. A mere twelve-year-old boy had not observed any terrifying affairs to give him such nightmares. Nevertheless, he was neither obtuse nor juvenile to be blind to the existence of the dark, ominous cloud that was there even before his birth.

“You don’t have to worry about those things, little Boris.”

As he felt the hand of his older brother, Yevgnen, patting his head, Boris glanced up and thoughtlessly caught the clear blue sky that reminded him of the dress his mother wore in her portrait. Yet the boy’s eyes that watched were the color of gray blue sky just before the rain. Yevgnen, with his eyes clear as the sky and his short brown hair gently blowing in the wind, stood with the sky on his back as he gazed down at his younger brother.

The field of vibrant greenery that stretched to the horizons belonged to the land of Longred of the Jinneman estate. Tall grass grew amply across the plains to the edge of the mansion. Located in the middle of the continent, the step-like field stretched to the west just as it was anywhere around the bottom of the Mt. Katuna that surrounded the Seashell Peninsula.

As Boris lay down, his head buried under the tall grass standing tall in late summer plains. A bug, he wondered, seemed to nag at his nose. That aggravated the uneasiness he felt from Yevgnen’s brighter-than-usual smile. What was it, this feeling? There was no reason. To feel like this, really.

No. Yevgnen was always radiant. He took the hand of his younger brother, as flustered and aloof as a bashful schoolgirl, and explored all around the family estate, trying his best to show the world of bright happiness. If Boris happen to crack a laugh, Yevgnen glistened with joy ten times over, unable to contain his glee.

His tall and handsome brother. The best swordsman of the region amongst his peers, a pride and joy to their father. Yevgnen Jinneman, the only person little Boris believed in.

“Practice time, like I promised!”

Boris nodded and swiftly stood up. The long hair that covered his shoulder fluttered in the wind like his brother’s. Yevgnen enjoyed tousling Boris’ hair. He had already made it into a bird’s nest as he handed him the practice sword. Instead of protesting like a child, Boris smirked.

“Shoo, shoo! You can’t lay eggs on my brother’s head!”

Yevgnen chased away the imaginary birds, and Boris pretended to be fooled and glanced behind. In that instance, the playful brother poked Boris in the side with the practice sword. Boris turned back to see that Yevgnen had fallen back to a safe distance. Swaying from side to side, Yevgnen whimsically took a defensive stance.

Boris was struck with a sudden ominous feeling.

Even as he scraped his knees tripping on his own foot trying to strike his brother’s stretched out sword, laughing and rolling on the grassy field as he wrestled his brother, who had come to see if Boris was hurt, on to the ground, the ominous feeling did not go away.

Recently, Boris discovered that he had an unusually keen sense of intuition. Intuition was not an ability that could be controlled. Yet occasionally, his intuition became so strong and sensitive that it almost felt like he could peer into the future.

Boris, a kid with no foundation, was no match for Yevgnen who had already trained in art of sword fighting for years. Yet Boris liked to swing around the practice sword so Yevgnen rolled around on the grassy field and played with Boris under the guise of training his reflexes. The father always wanted Yevgnen to train seriously instead of entertaining his younger brother, but as the merry lad he was, Yevgnen preferred making Boris laugh to honing his swordsmanship.

Yulkan Jinneman, their father, was not yet interested in Boris, who was only a child. He believed that Yevgnen’s vast affection for Boris was due to naïve and innocent nature of the young age. To Yulkan Jinneman, a younger brother was not a possible being of affection. Rather, it would be enough to have a younger brother refrain from sneaking up behind him like a bandit and putting a knife against his throat.

Yevgnen was his firstborn. He was the only one who Yulkan could trust. Not only that, but Yevgnen was also the sole recipient of his expectations. Yevgnen also believed that he should obey his father unconditionally. Yet Yevgnent was too young to understand everything. He would eventually learn what Yelkon’s true expectations are once he grew older.

Thwack!

The sound of wood striking cheerfully echoed through the field. There must have been a rare occasion of a perfect collision of the practice swords. Yevgnen feigned a surprise as he retreated two steps behind. He wanted Boris to step in more aggressively.

Boris, this time without tripping over his own feet, swiftly charged towards his brother. He gripped his sword, just as Yevgnen taught him. Even with a slight wobble, it was a decent stance. He swung from the left towards Yevgnen’s shoulder. Yevgnen acted as if he was going to be hit, then shuffled to the side.

Boris, roused by barely missing his strike, charged in full of zeal. He had overstepped the boundary Yevgnen set. Yevgnen’s blade darted straight for Boris’ neck. There was no time to dodge.

“Ah!”

Yevgnen jolted, startled. Perhaps it was because of Boris’ sudden improvement, Yevgnen had properly countered the strike out of habit. Even if the practice sword was made of wood, the tip was fairly sharp. A red prick on the Boris’ neck quickly formed into a bead of blood.

“Oh no!”

Yevgnen tossed his sword aside and embraced the cheeks of his stunned brother. He examined the wound as he comforted his brother with gentle pats to the back. Luckily, it was no more than a scratch. Nevertheless, the bead that formed around the cut thickened and eventually ran down the neck.

Yevgnen wiped the blood with his sleeve and took out his handkerchief and pressed on the wound. The bleeding was minimal but he could feel his brother’s pulse beating fast, like a small bird after a flight.

“Did I scare you? I’m sorry, I really am. It’s my fault. I’ll never do it again.”

Of course, Boris was surprised. He could feel the swift blade whizzing through the air, and even forgot who he was sparring against. He had only recognized the fleeting panic that someone was actually trying to strike him.

“…Yeah.”

At that moment, a voice called for the two brothers from a distance. Someone was running from the direction of the mansion.

“Master Yevgnen! Master Boris!”

It was the servant from the mansion who always looked after Boris. Yevgnen thought that it was a good time to head back and grabbed Boris’ hand, but the servant’s attitude seemed strange. He was waving the hand as if he didn’t want the two brothers to go towards him.

“What’s going on?”

The servant finally arrived at where the brothers were. His grasps for air and blue tint around his face showed how much of a rush he was in.

“Why is your face so pale? What’s wrong?”

The servant lifted his face with effort and showed a face of horror. Something awful seemed have happened.

“Masters, you can’t go to the mansion right now! Something terrible has happened!”

Yevgnen patiently waited for the rest of the explanation. He wasn’t alarmed as he knew how servants exaggerated everything. However, Boris was tense. He could not shake the gloom from the morning for the whole day. As if it was an omen to today’s events.

“Master Vlado Jinneman… He is back!”

Yevgnen’s face promptly hardened. He had squeezed Boris’ hand in case Boris had gotten upset. Yet Yevgnen did not realize that his own hand had turned cold.

“Oh, I see…”

Boris could not grasp the servant’s message. He was shocked as if the dreadful omen that had been floating around in his head had become a reality.

Distracted from even his brother’s watchful gaze, Boris absentmindedly repeated the servant like he was reading a book.

“Uncle Vlado… is back…?”

Wind that cradled rain slowly fluttered its wings above the brothers’ head. One by one, the wet, gray feathers loosened into a fall.