Shadowless Night-Novel

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“You’re lucky. It’s hard to hear if you don’t arrive at the right time… Isn’t it beautiful? Sometimes, some people shed tears because they’re so overwhelmed.” The girl clasped hands and looked back behind her. She wanted to share this moving feeling with the visitor.

“Miss Mireimi?”

The priestess was shocked. The woman was crying. Cold tears endlessly flowed from her large purple eyes. Her eyebrows had furrowed, and she breathed heavily. The visitor could not take her eyes off the vast space as if she were tracking the remnant sound with her eyes. Tears dripped down her chin, allowing the beautiful scenery of the Great Temple to reflect in her wet eyes.

“R-really.”

She closed her eyes tightly. Like an angry child roughly closing the door, she squeezed hard to the point where the priestess thought it strange that tears, not blood, were pushed out. The girl hurriedly pulled a handkerchief from her bosom.

“It sounds beautiful.”

The shaken Macaron slumped on the white marble. She felt like she had lost even the strength to stand.

“It’s like I’ve heard it in my dream…” Macaron buried her face in the hem of her dress and breathed heavily. Tears fell endlessly onto the back of her hand.

The priestess was stunned by the visitor, who was more thrilled than she had expected. She had even sat down in awe. She supposed the visitor could feel the lingering emotions clinging to the space.

The girl glanced at Macaron as she walked away. The woman wasn’t still like a statue; she just cried in that hunched posture.

The empty corridor Macaron found herself in was quiet. She got up slowly and staggered toward a corner. The thick makeup applied to her eyes was dripping down.

Bang!

The hand that hit the white wall was trembling. Bones stood stark on the backs of her delicate hands, and the veins bulged.

The bell sounded like tinnitus in her ear. The sound that filled the Temple’s interior had long since ended, but it reverberated in Macaron’s head. Gong. Gong. Gong. The bell unceasingly rang as if breaking the boundary between dreams and reality.

A ferocious impulse instantly welled up within her. A wave of stark anger blanketed her vague fear when she stepped into the space where she had fled from in her long dream.

Something hot and sharp rose inside her. Every muscle in her body contracted as if she would explode. Her nails hammered into the solid wall one by one. Thud, thud… Cracks began to appear through the wall like spider webs.

Macaron slowly lifted her bowed head at the sound of someone coming across the winding hallway. It was the sound of young apprentice priests going to prayer time.

Sharp nails sprouted from her fingertips. The veins on her forehead and neck pulsed. Her irises blurred, and a strange glow appeared. Her white skin grew darker, rugged, and thicker. By the time animal hide covered her skin, her hands had grown to the size of a human head.

Saliva dripped from the corner of Macaron’s mouth as she breathed heavily. Her form was different from that of a predator. She understood that the success rate of hunting increased if she lowered her stance and stifled her breath and presence, but she couldn’t control it. It was as if she had become a demon.

An alarm bell rang in her head. Kill, kill! Kill everything in front of you! The voice was familiar. It was her own. She shook her head, trying to shake it off, but the curse words that filled her head, fingertips, and toes showed no signs of disappearing.

Macaron stuck to the wall and waited. Would she be freed from this pain if she cut off those priests’ heads? She scratched at her neck, chest, and face. She didn’t care. The rage continuously burned through her body just beneath her skin. It was painful.

The frantic movement began to disturb her appearance. Her fingernails caught the hem of her skirt. Her claws, which resembled sharp fangs, ripped through pieces of fabric. The pouch she had hidden inside the lining fell to the floor.

Clink, clink! Dozens of gold coins poured out. The gold coins won from the Gambling King Lahe and the eldest son of the Cimmaron hit the marble floor and made a ringing sound. Gold coins reflected in sunlight scattered in all directions. Twinkling, the cluster of lights decorating the walls filled the space with brilliance.

Tak.

At that time, a dull sound came through the clear, high-pitched sound of falling gold coins. Macaron blankly looked at her feet. A plain silver ring had fallen out. It was a ring with the pattern of the Radwiell family delicately engraved.

Macaron picked it up with trembling hands. The hand, which had been that of a beast, shaped itself to match her prior appearance before she knew it. The touch of metal against normal human skin was cold. The temperature slowly cooled her down.

“Oh?”

Macaron trembled at the sound of conversations between young apprentice priests and squeezed the ring tightly. They were getting closer. They were just around the corner and would run right into her. Macaron hurriedly turned and left the place.

“Oh Idelavhim! Do you reward the faith of your little servants like this!?”

“My life’s reward!”

She could hear children screaming in joy as they found the gold coins.

“Since they’re lost items, can I take one?” The children laughed.

Children laughing… It was a nostalgic sound.

The more she ran, the more distant their voices became. Tears trickled down her clenched fists. Macaron ran through the aisle of the Temple like a fugitive.

After a long time had passed, a blindingly bright light appeared in her dark field of view. Macaron stopped then. She only realized she had escaped the Temple after seeing the pouring sunlight. She couldn’t remember running down the hallways. Looking back, she saw a white temple shining even whiter in the sun…

Macaron leaned against a tree and cried.

White castles towered high in the sky, and beautiful bells rang. It was a beautiful place where birds sang, and the sun shone warmly.

The person in the dream, who ran away on a dark forest road, circled a long distance for a long time only to return to the beginning again.

She would never get away— she remained bound to it.

It is fate. It was fate.

***

Rosaline lay in her bed for the first time in a long time. Staying up all night had become increasingly burdensome these days. She wondered if this fatigue was another step in slowly settling into Rosaline’s body— into becoming more like a human being.

It felt like the bed was sucking her body into it. The bed was soft and fresh, while her limbs were heavy. She didn’t like being tired, but it was cozy when she was tired like this.

She sniffed. The sheets smelled of warm sunlight. Rosaline soon fell asleep.

She had a dream. She was nervous and shook, and she was choking…

Rosaline, who had fallen asleep, woke up at the sound of movement. The short dream dissipated the moment she woke up.

There was a woman with brown hair before her. She sat on the floor, which placed her at the same eye level as Rosaline, who lay in bed.The most update n0vels are published on Noᴠelꜰɪre.nᴇt

“Macaron…” Rosaline was not completely awake, mumbling as she called.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, so the room was dark. She couldn’t see the other’s face very well. Macaron just stared at Rosaline and ran her fingers through Rosaline’s hair. Rosaline slowly closed her eyes at her gentle touch.

She felt the blanket cover her neck, but Rosaline couldn’t open her eyes. She was tired. A gaze fell over her closed eyes. Macaron patted her back. Her hands were warm.

She remembered one of the short dreams. It was a cold place. It was damp and always cold. Rosaline mumbled with her eyes closed, completely asleep.

“It was cold…”

The hand patting Rosaline stopped at once,

“It’s warm now.”

Rosaline smiled. It was warm. It was cozy. The scent of flowers on the tip of her nose, the smell of sunlight on the sheets, and the smell of grass on Macaron’s clothes. They seemed to carry her to a good dream.

Rosaline didn’t notice the slight trembling of the hand touching her. Macaron sat in front of her for a long, long time until the sun rose.

***

“Eeek!”

An ugly scream came from outside. Ricardis awoke from his light slumber and blinked his grainy eyes. The room was still dark. The bluish light of dawn seeped in through the cracks of the curtains. It had been quiet lately. Were things starting up again?

Ricardis rose to his feet. People with no creativity made attempts between night and dawn. Perfect darkness, and when that darkness started to recede slowly, was when people were rightly wary.

Those who had aimed for this bluish hour had never succeeded, but they did not give up. Were they persistent or foolish?

Regardless of whether he heard the sound of a pig beaten outside or not, Ricardis arranged his blanket calmly. Whatever the fuss was, it would end with Rosaline. She was merciless to assassins.

His mouth was dry, so Ricardis drank water before heading to the terrace. He didn’t have to look at the assassins; he just wanted to tell Rosaline to stop and come up to have breakfast. It was breakfast for him, but maybe Rosaline would consider it a snack and eat four meals that day.

Suddenly, he laughed. After thinking he was a little crazy, Ricardis cleared his throat.

Opening the curtains and the terrace door, Ricardis felt the fresh early morning air. Rosaline, stop it and hand it over to the guard…

Ricardis wanted to curse because of the man subdued under Rosaline.

‘That light pink shaggy hair!’

Ricardis hurried to the railing.

“Rosaline! Don’t kill him!”