Chương 3: Chapter 2: Witnessing the Dead

The five minutes Alice spent finishing her meal felt like five hours. She kept her eyes glued to her bowl as she took pathetic spoonfuls into her mouth. The taste was lost to her by now. The only thing on her mind was that thing she saw by the table. Is it still standing there? Don't look, don't look. You're about done anyway. After this you go back to your room and… and then what? Just hope nothing pops up in there? Alice wiped her lips and set her spoon down.

"Thank you for the meal."

"Stephen, clean the dishes." Cynthia gestured to Stephen. Stephen came over with a groan, swept the dishes into his arms, and hurried over to the sink. All of a sudden that ghoul seems a lot friendlier. Jaime glanced at Stephen with the same old expressionless look.

"You don't need to talk to him. He can do it automatically."

"Being specific wouldn't hurt." Cynthia stood up and patted down her white blouse.

"Oh, and I nearly forgot. I need to go to the market to get a few things. I'll leave her with you, Jaime."

"Hm…" Jaime gazed down the hallway.

"Why don't you take her with you instead? I still have work to do." Alice's eyes lit up at the mention of leaving. I want to get out of this place. Surely there aren't any of them outside, right? Cynthia furrowed her brows.

"Are you… sure?"

"It isn't healthy for the body to be inside all day." Jaime turned to Alice.

"And wouldn't you like a change of scenery?" Alice quickly nodded.

"I'll come, I'll come." She sprang to her feet. I need fresh air. I need to clear my head.

"Well, look at you." Cynthia shrugged.

"Don't forget your coat, dear. It's cold outside."

"Of course, Mother." Alice stood on her tiptoes and snatched her woolen coat from the hanger on the wall. While Alice quickly wore her coat, Cynthia donned her own: a simple linen overcoat above her white blouse. Alice slipped on a pair of small brown leather shoes.

"Shall we go?"

"I thought you didn't like going outside. What's gotten you so excited?" Cynthia raised a brow. Alice's left eye twitched.

"I already finished the book you gave me. I just wanted to walk around." And avoid those damned creatures in our house.

"You already finished it? Well, I guess I'll just have to buy another one then." Cynthia bent down and pinched Alice's cheek lightly.

"Goodbye, Father," Alice murmured toward Jaime. Jaime waved his hand and stood up, quickly disappearing into the hallway.

"Come on, let's go." Cynthia grabbed a woven basket from the table and opened the front door. Her gaze fell on the snow-laden roads and the bustling crowds moving along with men, women, even children like herself. A dull gray sky hung above them, the sun peeking out of a massive cloud. She stepped down from the porch and looked east. The stone city walls kissed the very skies, circling around the entire city and ending where the land met the cold sea, or so she was told.

Everything else seemed so small in comparison, as if they were just ants. How wonderful… at least there wouldn't be any ghosts.

"It's been a while since I've been out here." Alice breathed in the smell of the city: a blend of smog, the saltiness of the sea, and a slight bitterness on the tongue. Cynthia let out a hesitant chuckle.

"Spend so much time reading, and you might just forget what the outside looks like. Come on, dear, let's go before the snow falls again." They walked down the sidewalk and passed by numerous homes, most standing two stories high like theirs, with some even at a towering three. It was almost a wonder, thinking how many people lived in this one place, how many stories were happening just outside her front door. They stopped at the end of the block, and Cynthia looked at both ends of the intersection.

"Why did we stop, Mother?"

"We're taking the coach. There should be one any moment now." Alice squinted and spotted a large carriage emerging from down the road. It was pulled by a pair of massive horses, with wretched green skin and ribs that poked out of their underbellies. Ghouled Horses… I wonder what a normal horse looks like. Cynthia raised her left hand, and the man in the front seat pulled back his reins and slowed the carriage. As it approached, Alice noticed the faded insignia of a two-headed lion painted on the door.

"Where to, madam?" The man was in his twilight years, with balding white hair and a face shaped like an egg. He grinned, revealing his disgusting yellowed teeth.

"To the market." Cynthia pulled open the door and climbed inside, extending her free hand to Alice. Alice grabbed Cynthia's hand and followed her inside the open chamber. She sat on the soft-cushioned seat. When the man whipped his reins, the horses galloped without making a single noise. Alice grabbed onto the cabin's side as they rode onward, looking about like a child seeing light for the first time. For once I'd much rather be out here than inside.

"Been a harsh winter. You folk are doing well?" the coach said.

"Well enough to get by," Cynthia said.

"About everyone nowadays. I've seen the churchmen going around down south, giving out food," the coach said.

"That's rare. Hopefully it'll last," Cynthia replied.

"Never does, but here's hoping," the coach said. They crossed a massive bridge over the River Vakundir. Alice peeked over the sides and beheld the dark, grimy waters down below. Far off into the distance, she spotted pillars of smoke rising into the sky. There was an acrid stench in the air, no doubt coming from the fumes. When they crossed to the other side, she noticed the buildings were taller. She tilted her head just to see their roofs; maybe six floors, maybe even seven high.

The people there wore simpler clothes, going about their day-to-day lives. A man carried a large wooden box; a young boy was playing in the snow; a postman was running from house to house delivering the morning paper; there were even beggars lying near the alleys, and she saw more of them than she could count. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. This is the other district… just how many are in this? So much so that some of them live on the streets?

The carriage turned and innumerable tents and stalls came into view. They were scattered across a city square, with droves of men buying, haggling, and selling. The noise of the market intensified as they approached. People yelled and barked, laughter and voices echoed, and the sounds of coin clinked. It was almost too much to bear. That's the market? Not exactly what I imagined… The coach pulled over by the sidewalk.

"Five pence, madam."

"That's more than I remember," Cynthia murmured, but she reached into her wallet nonetheless.

"I don't decide the prices, ma'am. The Lion's Standard, as they say." The coach shrugged. Cynthia pulled out five silver coins and handed them over to the man. She climbed out of the cabin, and Alice quickly followed her. The coach whipped his steeds and drove down the road, disappearing around the next turn.

"Hold my hand. I don't want you getting lost." Cynthia offered her pale, pale hand. Alice clutched Cynthia's hand as they walked into the market. They passed by stalls with clothes hung on wooden racks, others with tools like hammers or cleavers, and even some with the strangest brass and copper trinkets she couldn't even begin to describe. Wherever her eyes went, there was something different to behold.

"There are a lot of people here…" Alice said.

"Aren't they cold in the snow?"

"We're used to it out here. It gets colder every year. You'll get used to it." Cynthia pulled her down a wider aisle. My eyes don't hurt anymore. Maybe I was just imagining things earlier? Surely those things, those things weren't real. Alice frowned as she noticed a group of four men walking along the side, almost patrolling. They were clad in intricate copper masks and black trench coats, gloves and long boots as if making sure every inch of their skin was covered up.

They had rifles slung over their shoulders and revolvers dangling from belts on their waists. Alice's grip tightened on Cynthia's hand as they passed each other. Those are guns. I've read what those things can do. They could kill someone with just one shot.

"Who are those people?" Alice whispered as she looked behind them. Cynthia pursed her lips for a second.

"They are Inquisitors. They're good men. They keep the peace around here." Inquisitors? What a strange name.

"Okay." Alice nodded. They stopped in front of a plain old stall, protected from the elements by a thick linen tarp. Glimmering crystals of different sizes were scattered across a wooden table, and an old white-haired man sat behind it, chipping away at a massive bright blue crystal with a small knife. He looked up, his eyes containing a strange, inhuman gleam.

"What do you need?" Those are the things that power the oven.

"A D-class, just one." Cynthia reached into her wallet, taking out twenty silver coins.

"Just one? You sure you don't need anything else?" The old man frowned.

"I'm certain," Cynthia replied. The old man glanced at Alice for a second, his lips curling upward.

"Alright then." He stood up and went further inside the tent. He rummaged through a large wool sack and grabbed a palm-sized crystal, glowing faint blue.

"You know, we got a few trinkets from Tarsorum. Why not get something for your girl?"

"We don't need it." Cynthia shook her head.

"Come on, I'll give you a discount." The old man opened a wooden box with a light kick and yanked out a small brass doll.

"Ain't she a beaut?" He placed it on the table, directly in front of Alice. Alice narrowed her eyes and studied the strange thing. Its skin was a dim yellow brass, and it wore a tiny white dress that went down to its knees. It had long black hair, but it seemed more like a stretch of solid cloth than anything else. And its face—it was hardly a beaut like the man said. What even is that supposed to be? That looks ugly.

The old man pressed something on the doll's back, and it came to life with a sudden jolt of its legs. It walked around the table and spun around, dancing. Its head twisted, and its arms rose above its head. It leaped off the table, and the man caught it just in time. Oh, it can move. But that doesn't make it any less ugly.

"What do you say? Just forty pence for the girl." The old man grinned.

"No. But thanks for the offer." Cynthia shook her head.

"Wait! I still have other—""We're not interested." Cynthia pulled Alice away from the stall. Alice gazed over her shoulder and saw the old man's face twist in irritation and a deep sense of regret. He stuffed the doll back into the box, sat back down, and started chipping away at the large blue crystal again.

"Is forty pence expensive?" Alice raised her brows.

"No, it's quite cheap for something like that, actually," Cynthia said.

"But nothing's ever cheap here in Vakundir."

"Nothing's… cheap here? But you just said it was cheap." Alice frowned.

"I'm talking about the Soul Crystal. If he's selling it that cheap, it means the crystal must already be running low. For it to have moved like that, its crystal must be a very potent one, and a very small one too. I bet it'll cost us more than double just to power that thing," Cynthia said.

"That… that's horrible. So he wanted us to spend more money?" Alice said.

"That's right. If the doll was good, then he'd have it on display, don't you think? You wanted a book, right?" Cynthia replied.

"Yeah, I want one."

"I'll show you the place where I get them later. You'll like it there." Cynthia rubbed Alice's head. Alice nodded.

"Where are we going next?"

"We're going to buy something for dinner," Cynthia said. As they turned the corner, Alice sniffed the stench of raw meat and blood in the air. The entire aisle was a meat market, filled to the brim with a dozen or so butcheries. Sheep and pigs dangled from iron hooks, and men were chopping up meat on their filthy displays. People were handling coin and flesh with the same hand, and she saw rivulets of blood trickle down over the counters, staining the white snow red. This place is disgusting.

And we eat these things? I'm surprised I haven't gotten sick from the meat. Cynthia stopped at a smaller shop right at the end corner. It had an iron roof and red brick half-walls that reached up to a person's waist. The meat of various animals dangled right above the walls, and a small scale sat on a stump nearby. A pudgy man wearing a blood-stained white apron stood by the counter, chopping up a large chicken with his massive iron cleaver.

"Morning, Erwin," Cynthia said.

"Morning to you too, madam. What can I get ya?" Erwin wiped the sweat off his brow and put down the knife.

"Two kilos of loin," Cynthia said.

"Alright." Erwin left the cleaver against a stump and unhooked a large pig, splaying it across the cutting board. He yanked the cleaver out and chopped the pig's head off. A sharp pain seared into Alice's eyes. She winced, shutting her eyes and rubbing them with her right hand. No… not again. Not here. When she opened them, the world had turned white and gray. The severed head of the pig stared back at her from the cutting board, unblinking, until Erwin shoved it inside a bin beneath the counter.

Erwin brought down the cleaver again, chopping another chunk of meat off. She spotted something among the pig corpses behind the butcher. A pale and naked child hung from a previously empty chain like a monkey on a vine, its bones jutting against its famished flesh. Its eyes were black, staring listlessly at the wall as it swung slightly back and forth in the wind. Another one. They're even here too… Alice clenched her fist and looked at her feet. Just focus. They don't know you can see them. Just ignore them.

Ignore them. Time seemed to slow as Erwin carved the pig into smaller chunks of meat. Alice watched, her eyes fixated on the cleaver as it tore through flesh and bone with ease. She thought that if she stared hard enough, the creature in the corner of her eye would disappear. Erwin grabbed one of the larger chunks and dropped it on top of the scale. It read 1. 99 kilos. Alice furrowed her brows as she glanced at her mother. Cynthia radiated a faint bluish glow, a little brighter than the ghoul at home.

Even Alice herself saw the faintest silver light wafting from her skin, and yet the butcher before her was a complete pallid gray. Why are we glowing? He isn't glowing… the ghosts aren't glowing either…

"Good enough." Cynthia reached into her wallet and placed a few silver coins on the counter.

"Always a pleasure." Erwin lowered the chunk of meat to the side and wrapped it with a large sheet of waxed paper, before tying both ends with a thick white string. Cynthia offered her woven basket, and Erwin plopped it inside.

"Let's get going. The bookstore isn't far." Cynthia cast a toothed smile, her fangs protruding from her upper lip. Alice quickly nodded and held Cynthia's free hand. When they returned to the bustling aisle, Alice froze stiff. Amid the crowds of men and women were the pale and the grotesque. Too large, too small, too tall to be anything human, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles and their faces contorted in pain. One was a tall and slender thing, its skin sheer white and its arms drooping down to its ankles.

Another was the upper half of a woman crawling along the pavement, dragging her entrails behind her. A headless man stumbled through the crowds, holding an open suitcase with one hand. A wrinkled thing with a frog-like face and a bloated stomach stood behind a pregnant lady perusing one of the nearby stalls. There were far too many of them to count, each as strange and grotesque as the last. Cynthia tugged on Alice's hand.

"Is there something wrong?" Alice gulped and shook her head.

"No… I think something just flew into my eye…" She rubbed her eyelids. There are so many of them. Help me, God.