Travelling around the region to sell some goods is one way to profit in life… that's what they say.
I am… Duss. A merchant from the west. I sell jewelry to nobles—rings, necklaces, bracelets, all polished until they gleam like captured sunlight. They love my products. Every week I earn almost three gold bars—enough to make my daughter attend her school and live a life I could only dream of in my youth.
One night, before I was to travel, I overheard my fellow merchants having a weird conversation.
"Hey dude, the fog is thick tonight." one of them said, his voice low and cautious.
"Yeah, we should probably rest now and head home." the other replied, glancing nervously at the mist creeping through the streets.
I didn't pay much attention. The jewelry needed delivering, the money awaited, and my daughter needed her allowance. There was no time for superstition or fear.
Later that night, I drove my carriage toward the Capital of Lucia. The road stretched ahead, familiar and calm—or so I thought. Then I noticed a fog rolling in, dense and heavy, swallowing the moonlight and the path before me.
I ignored it at first, gripping the reins tighter, urging my horses onward. But the fog thickened. It wasn't just mist—it had weight, like the world was pressing down around me. Lanterns flickered and threatened to die. My horses shivered, sensing something unseen.
I pressed on, muttering, "Easy… easy, boy…" But the feeling wouldn't leave me.
The horses stopped moving…
And before I knew it… I fell asleep.
---
When I awoke, my daughter was there, shaking me gently. In her small hands, she held a paper—crumpled at the edges but precious in its significance.
"Dad, look! Look! I passed the examination… I'm going to be a healer!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining like morning stars.
My chest swelled with pride. Happiness struck me so hard I could barely speak. I hugged her, holding her tight as if never wanting to let go. For a moment, the world stopped. Every hardship, every mile traveled, every coin earned—it all seemed worth it.
---
After one week…
I am Weiss, a researcher. I wandered through the town, questioning people about Duss.
"Duss? You mean that guy? He's a very hard-working man… always exhausting himself for his daughter," one man said.
"Yeah… though I feel sorry for her now," another added, shaking his head.
"Ever since he went out into that thick fog… he's gone insane. He keeps saying his daughter's name, praising her endlessly," the first man whispered.
I frowned. Praising her endlessly? It didn't make sense. Why would someone who loved their child so dearly fall into obsession and madness? I followed the rumors to his home. The fog had disappeared from the roads, but something lingered there.
When I arrived, the door was slightly open. The glow of a lamp flickered inside, casting long, trembling shadows across the stacks of jewelry crates. And there he was—Duss—sitting on the floor, murmuring to himself.
Suddenly, he sprang to his feet and grabbed my collar.
"My daughter passed her examination! She'll be a healer! Can't you believe it? I'm finally retiring!" he shouted, his grin wild, almost unhinged.
Then a single tear rolled down his cheek.
"Look… she's here," he said, pointing at an empty space.
He crouched down and hugged the nearby trash, patting it gently, as if it were his daughter herself.
"I'm so proud of you… I'm so proud of Allyn!" he said, his voice breaking between laughter and sobs.
His trembling hands gripped nothing, yet in his mind, he held her. He could feel her warmth, hear her laughter, see her tiny hands clutching his.
"Look at you… a healer… my little Allyn," he whispered, brushing his hand across the empty space where her hair would have fallen.
Tears streamed down his face, soaking the floorboards. And yet, through the sorrow, through the madness, there was a fierce, radiant joy.
---
"Now... All I saw is a selfless man with nothing but madness," I said as I sat in my office, writing his story in my journal.
The candle on my desk flickered, casting long shadows across the room. The ink smeared slightly as my hand trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the weight of what I had just witnessed. Every word I wrote felt heavy, like it carried a fragment of Duss's sorrow and obsession.
But as I continued, a sudden weight pressed down on my shoulder. My eyes burned from the long hours of reading and writing. I rubbed them and took off my glasses… then slowly put them back on.
And then I saw it.
The fog.
Not outside… not in the streets… but inside my room. Thick, curling tendrils that moved with intention, wrapping around the furniture, the walls, even the air itself. It smelled damp and earthy, like cold soil after a storm, but there was something else—something sweet, intoxicating, almost… sentient.
I froze. My heart pounded so loudly I feared it would wake the shadows. The candlelight dimmed as if the fog absorbed the flame.
I wanted to move, to run, to shake it off. But my limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, like I was trapped in invisible chains.
I spun around. The room looked the same, yet everything felt wrong—warped. The walls stretched, the shadows twisted.
I staggered back, my chair scraping against the floor. Panic rose like a tidal wave. My journal slipped from my hands, pages scattering as if pushed by an invisible force.
The fog thickened, curling around my legs like serpents. I could feel it seeping into my skin, chilling me from the inside out. Every instinct screamed at me to run… but I couldn't.
I grabbed my journal and quickly started to write something.
And then... That's when I realized...
I fell to the ground... and lose consciousness
I was done for...
And the only remnant that'll be left here is...
My journal.