Unwan was in shock. He had never believed life was like a fairytale, but he had never imagined it could be this cruel either. Torin's mercilessness toward others and how he could use a young boy like Unwan as mere bait was beyond his comprehension. Especially to hunt the Night Creatures.
Night Creatures were monsters born from darkness itself at night . They considered conscious beings their favorite meal. They often possessed magical, sometimes even unimaginable powers. Normal weapons or sharp objects had no effect on them.
That was why almost no one dared to face them. When an ordinary person met a night creature, their chances of survival were so low that, if they somehow lived, the kingdom would grant them a title for it. As for defeating a Night Creature there was no chance at all.
Yet there were two possible ways to stand against them.
The first and by far the hardest was to hold them off until sunrise. Since they were born of night, when dawn came they would either flee into forests and caves untouched by sunlight or vanish into the Night Curse Realm. Any who failed to do so would turn to ash beneath the first rays of the sun.
But as mentioned, this was almost impossible. Night creatures could strike at any moment before dawn with claws sharp as blades and teeth stronger than steel leaving ordinary humans defenseless and desperate to flee.
The second, and far more attainable way, was to fight them using the power of a Grimoire.
According to legends, Grimoires were crafted by supreme beings called Grems. They made parchment from a magical tree known as Oire, shaped them into books, and infused them with their divine power.
Unwan had heard this story in the orphanage more than a thousand times, and unwillingly, he had memorized it by heart.
Grimoires were formidable weapons against Night Creatures, yet even they came with conditions. These conditions didn't depend on race, gender, age, or social status which meant even the poorest person could one day obtain a powerful Grimoire. The true test lay in one's soul and self-awareness.
But there was one thing Unwan couldn't comprehend: How could a man as wicked as Torin, a killer own a Grimoire?
If murderers killed without hesitation, they must know nothing of life's true meaning. Or perhaps Torin had once been good… and something had changed?
Unwan forced himself to stop thinking. Survival that was all that mattered now. He still had a chance. He could open the door and escape.
He was ready to test that chance.
The plan was simple: distract Torin with words, then quickly open the door and run.
He needed the right words ones that wouldn't sound suspicious. His heart was beating violently; fear made his body tremble, yet the surge of adrenaline also gave him the courage to move.
Finally, he spoke.
– How cruel are you to use a boy like me as bait? Don't you feel even a bit of pity for strangers?
He said it with emotion, all while slowly moving his right hand toward the door handle.
Torin's smile faded. He calmly replied:
– How could I pity someone as low as you? A boy who can't survive a single day without others' help. Your life is already miserable enough. Even if it ends badly, no one will mourn you. The only pity I might feel is if you die in your first hunt or fail to even reach it.
Unwan was stunned. Though Torin's words were cruel, he barely cared about the insults he knew how nobles were. They cared only for profit, despised the poor, and always sought personal gain.
But something in Torin's words caught his attention. Dying before the first hunt? What did that mean?
He inched his hand closer to the handle.
– What do you mean? Are you planning to do something to me before the hunt?
His hand was now so close that he could open the door at any second. Luckily, the handle was on his side of the carriage, not in the center. He was sure Torin couldn't see what he was doing.
Yet curiosity briefly overpowered fear—he wanted to know what Torin meant.
The man grinned again.
– What else could it mean? If you try to escape, fool.
"What is this madman talking about?" Unwan thought, but before he could speak, Torin continued.
– You really think I can't see what you're doing? Maybe your hand's hidden, but I can tell from the way your shoulder moves.
"So what? I'll still open it and run, you lunatic."
– Go ahead, if you wish. But know this once your hand touches that handle, a Grimoire spell will activate.
Torin raised his palm. Slowly, a faint golden light shimmered in the air as dust swirled and condensed into a book. Unwan saw the engraved cross at its center and immediately recognized it.
It was the Grimoire of Life, ranked as a Second-tier Grimoire. Though it looked simple and low-grade, its power depended on the wielder's mind and soul making it especially dangerous in the hands of someone like Torin.
The most terrifying part was that it could affect living beings directly, making it one of the deadliest weapons against ordinary humans.
Unwan didn't know what kind of spell Torin might cast, but he wanted to live. Torin stared into his eyes as if silently saying, "Go on, try."
Unwan took a deep breath, steeling his resolve.
"No matter what happens, just open the door and shout for help. Do whatever it takes."
He pulled the handle down. The carriage door swung open, and sunlight flooded in. They were passing a plaza with a fountain at its center and a statue standing tall amid the spray.
He hadn't noticed it before perhaps too distracted by the carriage's lavish interior.
But at that moment, he felt no pain, no resistance. Relief filled his chest. He placed one foot forward to jump out...
...and then his hand went numb. Pain shot through his arm like fire. His fingers froze, his whole hand locked in agony.