Turning Tail [Reader x Doldia Girls]

Final Part - 02 | Greyrat

It's impossible to see out of the forest. The place is blanketed in an inky darkness too thick for the naked eye to pierce through. What was once a lush green canopy swaying in wintry winds becomes a still black void, decorated meticulously by sheens of snow.

You stare up and strain to peer at the leaves above. Leaves that, for what it's worth, shouldn't even be clutching to their frozen branches still. It's winter, most trees you've seen lack their foliage, but a steady flow of mana denies this forest its cycle of nature. And that's why no one else has dared accept commissions that would send them here to this desolate place. You must be a fool. A fool with a deathwish. But fortune favors the bold, and you're as bold as they come.

You look down at the object in your hand — if an organ can even be called such. It thumps and beats as any heart would, the organ you've torn from the chest of a predatory werewolf moments prior.

You're silent, not bothered in the slightest by the way the thing wriggles and pulses on a steady heartbeat, though it has been detached ruthlessly from its living, breathing vessel. All in a day's work, right? If no one else wanted to step up for the town you now call home, you had that golden opportunity all to yourself. And it's no surprise that you breezed through it. You've breezed through a lot for the past few weeks now.

Anything in your line of sight labeled as a threat has been promptly eliminated with minimal effort. Every living obstacle has succumb to a quick and painful death at your hands — the one who has nothing left to lose.

"You'll get me a nice sum of money," you say to the beating heart. "Or whatever."

You've been doing that a lot lately as well. Talking to things that cannot talk back. Yesterday, you woke up in bed and said hello to the ceiling in a dead voice. Last week, you asked the door to your room how do I look today — two days in a row — before leaving to tackle some more commissions.

Not sure why.

You haven't gone insane. Right? You only mercilessly kill monsters without breaking a sweat or making any subtle facial expressions because you're skilled. You only talk to things that have no voice because you want to practice your speech. You only cry yourself to sleep every night because it feels natural and it helps you fall sleep faster.

...

You squeeze the heart in your hand and start walking. You know you're not insane. And you're not lonely, you just have a lot on your plate.

As you walk toward the exit of the forest, you can't help but contemplate your life. So many questions left unanswered. Too many regrets weighing you down. It's a riveting existence. Hell on earth. A puzzle that was never once fulfilled, yet seems to have lost more of its pieces, leaving it unsatisfied and further incomplete...

You close your eyes.

Why do I feel like...

... something's missing?

Something snaps loudly behind you. A branch? A rock? You open your eyes and are preparing to turn around to find out what it is, but it's already too late. You face the consequence of letting your guard down by taking the razor-sharp, bladelike leg of a massive arachnid beast into your shoulder. It impales you on sight, stabbing clear through to the other side of your body and pinning you to the ground.

You let out a bloodcurdling scream, faced with a pain greater than anything you've ever felt. And then you can't even move. You're utterly stuck — the monster's leg wedged through muscle and bone, an overgrown stake meant to incapacitate.

"Argh!" You blink through the tears in your eyes, looking up at the beast which now looms entirely over you. A plump dark body fills your view, eight gargantuan legs keeping the thing upright, and probably a million shimmering eyes all robotically latched onto your face.