the green writer

Story: The Dusk Monster

Chapter One: Eating the Rose

Under the warm sunlight, amidst the tall grasses of the Glasspool Forest, the laughter of a thirteen-year-old girl rang out. She lay on the ground, trying to fend off the tickles attacking her stomach, but the laughter was stronger than her. Her wide eyes sparkled with joy as the breeze carried the scent of wildflowers.

This moment didn't last long. The guards appeared with expressionless faces, casting a glance at the mother and whispering words the child couldn't hear. The mother smiled at her daughter before rising, brushing the grass off her dress, and walking away. The girl waved at her, watching as she disappeared into the tall grass, swallowed by the forest itself.

Then… something changed.

The sun was gone, replaced by thick clouds that seemed to appear out of nowhere. The gentle breeze turned into a chilling wind that sent shivers down the spine. At first, there was a whisper… then came the screams. Not just one scream, but dozens, echoing from every direction, followed by wails and sobs. The girl froze in place, her heart pounding violently as her eyes darted around, searching for a familiar face amidst the growing chaos.

Then, everyone heard it—that sound. A roar mixed with a howl, not like a wolf's, but something deeper, older… and more horrifying. The mere sound of it was enough to make knees tremble and hearts stop. At that moment, no one thought of survival. Death seemed like a kinder option.

Hans awoke from the nightmare, gasping for air. He rubbed his head as if struck by a heavy blow, then sighed slowly. Adjusting his position in front of the dim fire, he crossed his arms over his chest and muttered in a barely audible voice:

"The cold today… is biting."

He reached into his leather bag, checking what little he had left. His fingers brushed against magical stones and a gemstone, but he ignored them and kept searching until his hand hit something small and rough. He pulled out a hardened piece of bread, stared at it for a moment, then took a slow bite, chewing silently as he watched the flickering flames.

Pulling his coat tighter around himself in a futile attempt to steal some warmth, he let out a bitter chuckle, a sad laugh carried away by the cold air. He muttered hoarsely:

"An adventure, huh, Hans? This is what your ambition got you… Cold, hunger… and no safety."

A faint glimmer of a tear appeared at the corner of his eye, but he didn't wipe it away. He simply lay down, curling up as exhaustion and sorrow dragged him back into sleep.

By morning, the cold had eased slightly. Hans walked away from the main road, avoiding the troubles of bandits. The tall grass, filled with thorns, tore at his pants and coat with every step, but he didn't care. He reached the trunk of a tree and sat against it, observing his surroundings.

The black trees of Glasspool Forest stood like pillars, their sharp branches resembling spears, and their dark green leaves filling the air with a scent akin to basil. In every corner, cobwebs stretched between the branches, their threads sticky and unpleasant, as if waiting for prey to stumble into them. Hans raised his hand to remove the strands clinging to him, sighing before drawing his dagger and slicing a path through the tangled webs.

But… something moved around him.

His body stiffened in place, his heartbeat quickened, and his thoughts raced. There was something there… something watching him. He didn't give himself time to think—he leaped forward immediately, scribbling in his notebook the moment he sensed danger approaching. He turned sharply, but there was nothing. Silence… complete stillness. Then, he let out a bitter laugh, flipping open his notebook and writing quickly:

"I'm starting to imagine things… Great, Hans, you're going insane."

He tore the page, tossed it into the air, and it instantly ignited, turning into a fireball that consumed the surrounding webs. Hans walked through the falling ashes, feigning ease as he whistled lightly:

"Walking is easier now."

Kicking a few small stones as he walked, he tried to distract himself from the hunger gnawing at his stomach for days. After a short distance, he found himself in a small clearing filled with red and yellow flowers. He paused for a moment, staring at them, feeling an odd temptation to eat them. He resisted and continued walking carefully, avoiding stepping on any of them. Yet, he wasn't sure… Had he crushed one by accident? Or on purpose?

In the end, he stepped on one, then glanced down, pondering whether he had done it intentionally. But he simply picked up the rose and ate it whole before continuing his way, careful not to trample any more.

Between the scattered webs and the sharp branches that looked like spears, a small wooden cabin appeared before him. It seemed like a natural part of the forest, surrounded by webs as if hidden from sight. As he approached, a familiar scent reached his nose… a scent he had longed for.

Food.

He staggered forward, starving, his eyes locked on the cabin. But before he could get any closer, an arrow shot out like lightning and embedded itself in the ground at his feet, warning him to stop.

In an instant, Hans jumped back, taking cover behind a bush while quickly pulling out his notebook… but he had no idea what was happening.

A warning cry rang out, a soft voice carrying a slight tremble, as if its owner was trying to mask their fear:

"If you take another step… I'll kill you!"

Hans cautiously peeked out and found the source of the voice—a young girl, no older than fifteen or sixteen. She was short, with short, orange hair like a ripe tangerine and pale skin sprinkled with light freckles. She wore a loose black dress, and though her eyes were serious, they carried a hint of unease.

He raised his hands slightly, trying to calm her, and called out in a steady voice:

"I'm not a thief, I just want food."

She stepped forward cautiously, still gripping her drawn bow, and said in a voice trying to sound firm:

"Stop. Show me your hands."

Hans complied, raising his hands in the air, trying to offer a friendly smile. But before he could speak, she cut him off sharply:

"And wipe that disgusting smile off your face!"

He furrowed his brows in annoyance but didn't comment. He slowly stepped into the cabin, the arrow still aimed at his face. He took a quick glance around—a small hut, resembling the home of an herb witch. Shelves lined with glass bottles, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, strange tools scattered about, and tables covered with glowing black stones—Almana stones. He couldn't help but smile as he took it all in.

He sat on a wooden chair, above which floated a small mana oil lamp, casting a faint glow. The girl finally lowered her bow, placed it on the table, and turned toward a small pot bubbling over the fire. Moments later, she placed a bowl in front of Hans—red stew with potatoes, bits of meat, and some onions.

Taking the spoon, he tasted the food, his eyes glinting with realization. He smirked and said:

"It has Cobet Crystals."

The girl's expression shifted slightly, but he continued without caring:

"No… not just Cobet. There are Shura Crystals too… or maybe both."

She looked at him for a moment, then shrugged as she took a bite herself:

"That's right. Spices are scarce here, so I mix them with crystals to enhance the flavor… and the aroma too."

Hans ate ravenously, as if his stomach hadn't known food in days. Slowly, a faint smile returned to his face. The girl, meanwhile, watched him silently, her gray eyes studying him—his exhausted expression, his tattered green clothes. Finally, she asked in a curious yet skeptical tone:

"What got you into this miserable state?"

Hans paused, setting the spoon down slowly. He met her eyes for a moment before looking away. He exhaled lightly, as if the question had brought back something he wished to forget, then said in a weary voice:

"Days ago… or maybe weeks? Honestly, I stopped counting after the first week."

He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice hoarse:

"I faced a demon worshiper in Wambri Village."

The girl's eyes widened at his words, her expression shifting to one of wariness. She asked cautiously:

"And how… did you kill him?"

Hans smiled, but it was faint, barely there. Running a hand through his hair, he murmured:

"Honestly? I don't know. All I know is that I killed him… and then, arrogance took hold of me."

He laughed mockingly at himself, then continued, turning his gaze toward the darkness outside the hut:

"I took down a demon worshiper—something only nobles and heroes can do. I thought I was a hero, someone whose name would be remembered forever… But then I got lost in the Umbri forests, barely finding my way, only for it to be cut off by the bandits."

The girl perked up slightly, as if she was waiting for another part of the story. She quickly asked:

"And what about the bandits? What happened to them?"

Hans looked at the surface of the soup, where his weary face was reflected. For a moment, he didn't just see his face—he saw the memory returning, unfolding before him as if he was reliving it. He exhaled slowly, lowering his voice:

"I thought I was strong… So I decided to fight them. But I took a heavy blow, one that nearly killed me. Even when I heard a little girl's screams for help… I did nothing. I ran. I left her there."

Silence followed—heavy, suffocating, like a sin left unconfessed. The girl's gaze grew colder, her expression shifting from cautious to something else. Disgust? Contempt? She made no effort to hide her emotions, staring at him as if she were seeing him for the first time.

Hans felt the weight of her gaze piercing through his soul. He stood up, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and said in a low voice, avoiding her eyes:

"Thanks for the meal… I'll be on my way."

He stepped out of the hut without waiting for her response. The girl kept watching him, her expression of hatred and disdain deepening. She raised her hand as if to say something, but the words froze in her throat. She placed her hand over her mouth, as if restraining herself, yet her anger did not fade. Instead, it began to manifest...

She muttered strange words, barely audible, her orange hair fluttering as though stirred by an invisible wind. With each whisper, the energy around her intensified—then suddenly stilled. Finally, she murmured, her voice low but filled with ominous intent:

"You will get what you deserve, coward."