Astha did not move the moment he realized Yug was gone, because panic was inefficient and silence attracted less attention. He stood completely still, letting his breathing slow until it matched the forest's unnatural quiet. His eyes scanned the surroundings carefully, but the trees no longer felt like trees. They felt aware, like something wearing their shape and watching through them.
Then a small hand tugged at his sleeve.
Astha lowered his gaze without haste. The same girl stood there again, too close, too silent. Her head tilted slightly as her empty eyes fixed on him, unreadable and hollow, yet carrying something faintly human that didn't belong here.
"…You again," Astha said calmly.
The girl blinked once. Slowly. Deliberately. She raised her hand as if to gesture, but stopped halfway, as though the intention itself had broken apart before becoming action. Astha's gaze dropped briefly to her hand. There were no fingers. No wound. No blood. Just absence, clean and unnatural, as if something had erased them from existence entirely.
"If you're trying to ask whether I can see you or not," he said flatly, "I'm still not answering."
She did not react. She simply lowered her hand and tugged his sleeve again.
Astha looked at her, then at the grip on his clothes. "…What?" he asked.
Silence answered him.
The girl turned without warning and began walking deeper into the forest. No explanation, no sound, only steady steps fading into the stillness. Astha did not follow immediately. Blind trust was unnecessary, and usually costly. But she stopped after a few steps and waited, without turning back, as if she already knew he would come.
Astha exhaled softly. "…Persistent."
He stepped forward. "Fine."
And followed.
The forest changed as they moved, but not in the same way as before. The oppressive hostility had faded, replaced by something controlled, restrained, almost respectful in its silence. Astha noticed it immediately. It wasn't absence of danger. It was permission.
Interesting.
They walked in silence until the girl stopped abruptly, and Astha nearly stepped into her. "…You could signal," he said dryly.
She did not respond. Instead, she lifted her hand and pointed ahead.
Astha followed her gesture and paused.
A tree stood before them.
But calling it a tree felt incorrect.
It towered unnaturally high, its trunk impossibly wide, its bark dark and uneven like something that had aged beyond time itself. Its branches spread in distorted patterns, forming a canopy that looked less like nature and more like a cage. No leaves moved. No wind touched it. It simply existed, still and watchful.
"…Core point," Astha murmured.
The girl stepped forward and placed her small hand against the bark. The moment she touched it, a faint ripple spread across the surface like disturbed water.
Astha's gaze sharpened. Not physical. Perceptual. A boundary.
"Portal?" he asked.
No answer came.
She only looked at him again, waiting.
Astha studied her briefly. "…You don't talk much."
Silence.
He sighed faintly. "…Either very mysterious or very bad at communication."
The girl blinked once, then unexpectedly poked his arm.
Astha paused. He looked at her hand, then at her face. "…What was that?"
No response.
She only pointed at the tree again.
Astha stared at her for a moment. Something subtle shifted in his expression—barely noticeable, but present.
"…Impatient."
She neither agreed nor denied it. She simply waited.
Astha turned and placed his hand on the bark.
The world shifted.
Not violently. Not abruptly. Smoothly, like reality peeling away into another layer. Sound disappeared. The air stilled. For a brief moment, everything became weightless and silent.
Then warmth returned.
A house formed around them.
Bright. Lived-in. Familiar in a way that didn't belong to him.
The girl stood there again—but different. Smiling. Alive. Her eyes carried emotion, warmth, something human and fragile.
Astha slowed his steps. "…A memory."
A dining table appeared. Laughter echoed softly. A mother placed food with gentle hands. A father watched in quiet silence. The girl sat between them, speaking, smiling, fully alive.
"…So you weren't always like this," Astha murmured.
The present version of her stood nearby, but her movement slowed, as if the memory itself resisted her presence.
The scene shifted.
A boy appeared.
Same house. Same family. But something was missing.
He stood apart. Silent. Unmoving. Watching without expression.
Her brother.
The girl reached for him in the memory, laughing, pulling at his sleeve. He did not respond. Not once. No anger. No warmth. Nothing.
Only emptiness.Time passed.
She grew older. She kept trying. Always trying to reach him, to pull him into her world, to make him respond. But he never changed.
Astha's gaze sharpened slightly.
Then the warmth faded.
The air turned heavy.
The memory broke, skipping forward, refusing to show what came next. When it returned, the forest was there again. Dark. Silent. The massive tree stood at its center.
Figures appeared.
Blurred. Faceless. Deliberate.
The ground beneath the tree had already been disturbed.
Prepared.
Astha did not look away.
Because now she was there.
Lying still.
Completely unmoving.
No breath.
No life.
This was not happening.
It had already happened.
They lowered her into the ground slowly, carefully. No urgency. No hesitation. Layer by layer, until nothing remained. Until the earth was smooth again, as if she had never existed at all.
Only the tree remained.
Silent.
Watching.
Guarding what had been buried beneath it.
The memory lingered for a moment longer.
Then shattered.
The forest returned.
Cold. Still. Unchanged.
Astha stood motionless, his thoughts already aligning into structure, forming conclusions with quiet precision. His gaze shifted to the girl beside him. She looked the same. Small. Emotionless. Unchanged, as if that life had never belonged to her at all.
He reached out and gently patted her head.
Not comfort.
Not pity.
Acknowledgment.A silent acceptance.
The girl tilted her head and stared at him.
Then—
the world twisted.
Space folded inward.
And everything snapped back.
"MISHA!"
Yug's voice tore through the forest.
Astha blinked once.
He was back.
The original forest—but no longer intact.
Trees were broken. The ground was torn apart. Vines lay scattered like discarded threads.
At the center, Yug stood breathing hard, his movements sharp, cutting down anything that still moved. No longer controlled. No longer measured. Just raw frustration.
"…Yug," Astha called.
For a fraction of a second, everything stopped.
Yug froze.
Then turned.
And ran.
Fast. Direct. Without hesitation.
He reached Astha and pulled him into a tight grip, as if confirming he was real, as if confirming he hadn't been erased. His voice came low and strained. "Are you okay?"
His hands checked instinctively—shoulders, arms, face—searching for damage.
Astha allowed it. Then said calmly, "I'm fine."
Yug exhaled sharply, tension leaving his body in one breath.
"…Don't disappear like that."
"I didn't plan to," Astha replied.
A brief pause.
Then, "I found something."
Yug's eyes sharpened instantly. "What?"
Astha's voice lowered slightly. "There's a core entity tied to this space."
A pause.
"A girl."
Yug stilled.
Astha continued. "She was killed. Her body is buried under a tree—the central anchor point of this domain."
The forest seemed to quiet further, as if listening.
Yug's grip tightened slightly. "…So this place…"
"A construct," Astha said. "Formed around her."
Silence settled.
Then Yug exhaled slowly, something colder entering his tone. "…Then we burn the tree."
Astha looked at him.
"…No."
Yug frowned. "Why not?"
Astha's gaze shifted toward the unseen presence within the forest.
"…Because she's not the problem."
A pause.
"…She's asking for something."
Yug went quiet.
Then, carefully, "…What?"
Astha did not answer immediately.
But the forest stirred faintly, as if it had heard the question too.
As if it was waiting.