Mornings in the city of Duskvale never promise brightness, especially on Frogride Hill. The dew still hangs thick, dancing on the roofs of houses and the branches of shivering trees. Clinging to the windowpanes, blocking the view, even the birds don't sing, as if the city is reluctant to start the day.
Mocca stands in front of the foggy window, sighing softly. She tidies her long brunette hair into a lazy low ponytail. Still in her pajamas, the girl then goes down to the dining table. Khan is already sitting there, with a cup of hot coffee in front of him and hot tea across from him, a few slices of sandwich, and a stack of documents in his hand.
The two didn't talk much. Mocca sat across from her father, eating her breakfast lazily. She took only a few bites and then put her fork down. Mocca held her teacup, letting its warmth spread through her fingers. After a while, Khan turned to her.
"If you want to go out, don't wait until the afternoon. The weather here can change without warning," he said calmly.
Mocca nodded. "Daddy is always the best at guessing. Don't worry, I'm going with the neighbor's grandchild," she said. She needed some air. She needed to get out of the house, which had been so quiet and felt like she was being watched last night.
Outside, the path leading to the fence was still wet. The grass was still damp with dew, and the cool air greeted her sense of smell. She had changed her clothes, wearing a white T-shirt with sky blue jeans. She also wore her father's brown leather jacket. As she stepped out of the fence, a soft voice greeted her from the fence next door.
"Good morning, Miss Luxendale." There was Milky. He was leaning against the wooden fence of his grandmother's house, wearing an old denim jacket and a red knitted scarf. In his hand was a half-eaten piece of dry bread.
"You like to show up suddenly, don't you," said Mocca as she approached.
"I just know when it's the right time to show up when someone's feeling lonely," Milky replied with a small smile. "Come on. I'll show you the part of Duskvale that's not on the map."
The journey began along a small rocky road that cut through the thin hill behind Frogride Hill. Dry leaves stuck to their shoes, and every step stirred up the fog that hung over the road. On the right side, tall trees stood silently, like ancient guardians reluctant to speak. "Did you grow up in this town?" Mocca asked midway through the journey.
"Not really. My mother and I moved to another district when I was 4 years old. But it was still in the Duskvale area. It was more crowded there, and children were usually raised there."
Mocca furrowed her brow in confusion, "What do you mean?"
"I don't know. I don't know either. That's basically it. Then, because the arguments with my mother were getting worse, I decided to live with my grandmother in Frogride Hill," said Milky as she continued walking. Then she put another piece of dry bread into her mouth.
Mocca looked at her from the side, still not satisfied with Milky's answer. Realizing this, she explained further, "Mostly, yes. My mother and I moved when I was little. But I often come back here every winter. Duskvale... it's hard to explain. This town is like it's holding its breath, and you can hear it beating if you stay quiet long enough," Milky replied.
"I don't understand why this town is so quiet. I don't see any other neighbors besides you," said Mocca.
"Frogride Hill is indeed closed off to newcomers," replied Milky. She smoothed her blonde hair, which had been slightly tousled by the wind. "But you're very friendly."
Milky stopped walking, turned her head, and smiled sweetly. "Really? Do I seem that way?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Mooca looked at her strangely. Did this person think that was a compliment?
"I'm not entirely from Frogride Hill."
They crossed a small wooden bridge over a river that was almost frozen. In the distance, the shadows of old buildings began to appear faintly. Before reaching their destination, they took the time to sit in a small garden overgrown with moss and weeds. In the middle of the garden stood a moss-covered stone statue—a faceless woman, her hands raised as if begging.
"Why doesn't the statue have a face?" asked Mocca.
Milky shrugged. "They say it used to be the guardian of the city gate. But someone or something stole its face. It's just a local legend, don't take it too seriously." Mocca shuddered, her face showing confusion and bewilderment at what was happening. If that was true, why didn't the local government fix it immediately?
They continued their journey down the misty hill with gray clouds. The sun was still hesitant to shine on this city. Come to think of it, Duskvale was better known as the city of eternal clouds. "Where are you taking me?" asked Mocca as they approached the towering old buildings. Behind the quiet Frogride Hill, there was a silent crowd of people in the city center.
"Just look around, I'll show you some places here. But first, I want us to go to Eastfield," replied Milky. They were already in the middle of the old buildings. Mocca looked up at the tall but old buildings. She felt like she was in the Middle Ages. Her steps slowed as her eyes darted around curiously. There were people around, but they were silent. Some stared at her strangely. Some even gave her cynical looks. Those stares made her very uncomfortable.
Mocca eyes were drawn to an old church that was closed with chains. The iron was old and rusty, proving that the church had been closed for a long time. There were many spider webs there. Part of the building had been burned down.
Mocca swung her legs toward the place, as if hypnotized that she had to go there, but someone pulled her hand, "Hey!" Mocca turned around quickly. Milky looked at her confused. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you!"
"Yes, I was just a little curious about this place, it's so quiet," replied Mocca as she smoothed her hair.
"Okay, let's go." Milky grabbed Mocca's hand so she wouldn't go anywhere else. It made them look like best friends even though they had just met.
"Where are we going?"
"Eastfield."
Eastfield, if Mocca remembered correctly, she had read about it on a website when she was looking for information about Duskvale. "Is the place we're going to visit like an academy?" Mocca asked again.
"Right. People call it an institution, but it's more like a local training center. They open registration for young people so they can participate in various programs. I just want to take a look. If you're interested, we can register together."
"Are you interested in that kind of thing?" Mocca asked for the umpteenth time. To be honest, Mocca was a bit lazy when it came to learning and didn't really like academies.
"Of course! I'm tired of being unemployed and staying at home. Aren't you bored?"
Mocca was silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the houses they passed. The windows were tightly shut. Heavy curtains. No children's voices. No music. Only the sound of their footsteps. "Do you think I'd fit in?" she asked.
Milky turned her head. "I think you need a place that gives you room to move. And also a little sense of security."
"Security?"
"From whatever has been lurking around Frogride Hill all this time."
Mocca fell silent. She didn't answer, but the look in his eyes was enough to convey his agreement. They continued walking, now entering the city center where old stalls lined up with worn-out signs and a large wall clock that no longer ticked.
"If we're really going to do this, we need a team name," Milky said suddenly.
"A team name?"
"Yes. Like Mocca and Milky. The mystery-solving coffee and milk team!"
"That's ridiculous." Mocca chuckled. It was her first laugh that morning.
And above the window of one of the old, dust-covered shops, a black bird perched silently, tilting its head. The fog was beginning to thin. But the unfamiliar feeling hanging in the air had not completely disappeared. They walked again, passing old shops, some of which were tightly closed. One of them sold antiques. Behind the foggy glass, they could see an old wall clock, broken porcelain dolls, and a damaged music box. An old man inside the shop stared at them from behind the glass. His gaze was empty.
Milky waved casually. "That's Mr. Heron. He believes that time stopped in Duskvale since his wife died. Since then, the shop clock has never been repaired." The large clock in the square showed 11:11. It wasn't ticking.
"Do you think the clock will tick again someday?" asked Mocca.
"Maybe when the time is right," replied Milky with a wink.
"What do you mean? I think all times are right, it's just that we waste opportunities. Besides, it's just a clock, it should have been repaired long ago," said Mocca.
"Stop asking questions. I don't know everything either," replied Milky, snorting in annoyance. Realizing this, Mocca didn't want to continue her series of questions. Honestly, she was very curious. He reached into his pocket to check if he had at least one message, because this was the city center and there was definitely internet. However, Mocca's cell phone suddenly lost signal. It was even worse because at home, the network could get 3 to 4 bars, even though it was sometimes unreliable. He turned to Milky.
"Relax. Everyone experiences it around here. Duskvale doesn't like modern things. Sometimes the signal hides like a mouse afraid of the light."
After a few minutes of walking through narrow alleys and old buildings covered in moss, they arrived in front of an ancient stone building. An old metal sign hung crookedly: Eastfield - Duskvale Civil Training Institute.
Eastfield was a closed elite academy, similar to a university. It was located right in the heart of Duskvale, not far from city hall and the train station, which was rarely used by people anymore. The institution's building stood tall and was the tallest among the other buildings, with gray stone walls. From the outside, this place looked like an ancient castle that still existed in modern times, too grand for a small town like Duskvale.
The Eastfield gate was made of tall, rusty iron, closed completely without any gaps. It was decorated with strange carvings that had faded with age. They opened the gate, which made a slightly deafening sound. Beyond the fence, a vast garden stretched out with moss-covered stone statues, an old fountain that no longer flowed, and large trees that shaded part of the courtyard. Just like the city center, this place was equally quiet. However, it felt heavier, as if something was watching every step of those who entered.
Although anyone could apply, not everyone stayed long in this place. There were stories circulating that many candidates withdrew after trying for a few months, the reasons never known for sure. They seemed to be threatened by something greater than just an educational institution. Milky looked at Mocca, who was still looking up and observing part of the building. "Do you want to go in?"
Mocca stared at the gray sky, then looked around at the deserted surroundings. Even the gate had no guard.
"Let's go in now before I lose my courage," replied Mocca. She held Milky's hand even tighter. The two of them entered the building hand in hand. Even though Milky was also from Duskvale, she didn't have the courage to enter the largest building in the city.
Inside the building, in the hall, there were long, quiet corridors, the walls decorated with gloomy paintings whose colors were beginning to fade, some of which were no longer recognizable because they had been worn away and eaten by termites. The stone floor echoed with every step, creating a feeling that made anyone feel like they were being watched. Many doors were locked.
The institution was silent. The lobby was spacious and cold, with old wooden tables and worn notice boards. The smell of old paper and rusty iron filled the air. There was no receptionist. There was no other sound of footsteps. Only their footsteps echoed on the stone floor. Milky bent down to pick up a fallen brochure. "Registration is still open. Are you interested?" She looked around, but it was quiet.
"No."
Before they could discuss it further, a creaking sound came from the stairs above. Milky and Mocca immediately looked at each other. They tightened their grip on each other's hands.
"The wind," whispered Milky, but her voice sounded uncertain.
"Let's go home," replied Mocca.
They returned to the main road with slightly quicker steps. However, they felt like they were being followed. The shadow didn't move, but its presence lingered on the back of Mocca's neck like a cold breath. "You feel it too, right?" Milky asked softly.
"Yes," replied Mocca. "But don't look back." He took Milky's hand and held it.
However, curiosity got the better of the young couple. They stopped for a moment and looked back. An old umbrella stood alone in the middle of the narrow hallway, open and upside down, as if someone had just dropped it. Milky furrowed her brow. "It wasn't there before, right?"
Before Mocca could answer, the umbrella suddenly shifted slowly. It wasn't being blown by the wind. But it seemed to be slowly pulled by an invisible hand into the darkness of the hallway. There was no sound. No shadow. But the air changed. It grew colder. Heavier. Mocca gripped Milky's hand tighter, and they ran. Behind them, the alley was empty again. But the walls trembled slowly, as if holding back the silent laughter of something they didn't want to recognize.
Mocca swallowed hard. The atmosphere in the hallway felt frozen, and their steps, which had been hurried, now became more measured, full of caution. Milky stared at the shadow hanging at the end of the hallway, her eyes narrowing. Then a heavy voice sounded from behind them. In the tense silence, the voice was clear and unhurried.
"That hallway does like to play tricks on strangers."
They turned their heads. A handsome man stood there, wearing a long charcoal-colored coat, leather shoes clean of Duskvale mud, and gloves that seemed more suited to autumn than summer.
He was about 27 years old. His hair was dark brown with hazelnut-colored eyes. His face was calm, but there were lines of tension that showed that his life had never been completely peaceful. His gaze was like that of someone who was used to seeing things that could not be explained.
"My name is Arlan," he said without much preamble. "One of the attendants at the institution."
Milky tilted her head. "Attendant?"
Arlan stepped closer. His walk was calm, but each step sounded like the ticking of a clock in a room that was too quiet.
"In our place, there are no teachers. There are no students. Only those who observe, and those who are observed." The words hung in the air like the mist of Duskvale that refused to dissipate.
Mocca gripped the sleeve of her jacket, as if to dampen the tension that spread from her neck to her fingertips. Milky tried to smile, but her lips trembled slightly.
"We haven't registered yet," Milky said in a cheerful voice. "We're just curious."
"Curiosity is the first form of commitment," Arlan said without blinking.
He turned and walked toward the narrow alley where the umbrella had last been seen. With one light movement, he picked up the umbrella, which was still open, and closed it slowly. "Duskvale doesn't like things that are opened before their time," he muttered, almost inaudibly.
Mocca wanted to ask about the meaning of that sentence, about why the umbrella had moved, about who Arlan really was, but the girl's voice evaporated in her throat.
Arlan turned around, then stopped under the dim light of the hallway lamp. His gaze caught Mocca's face, and instantly his smile faded.
"If you are seriously considering coming to the institution, be there tomorrow. At eight o'clock. The door will be opened once." He paused for a moment, then added in a softer tone, but one that pierced through the skin.
"I'm curious, what will you bring to this city, Monica."
Mocca tensed up. Her chest tightened. She was sure she had never mentioned her full name all day. Before she could ask, Arlan had already walked away, stepping slowly, as if merging with the darkness that was reached by the light.
Milky turned to Mocca. "You heard that too, right?"
Mocca nodded slowly. "He knows my name."
"Do you think he's one of them?"
"Who are they? What do you mean?" Mocca asked Milky.
"Yes, companions or observers. Didn't you hear him say there are no teachers here?" Milky whispered. Mocca stared at the end of the hallway. The umbrella was now gone. Darkness covered everything.
"I don't know," she whispered. "But I want to know."
"Let's go."
The two of them hurriedly left the building whose bricks were almost cracked. They sped up their pace, leaving the eerie city center behind. They ran toward their respective homes, leaving Frogride Hill, which was submerged in a sea of silence and shrouded in mist.
Duskvale, full of mystery.