Chapter 6 - Snow White's Son
Translator's Note:
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Lonely tears fell from Crow's eyes, only to be wiped away as he gazed at the portrait, trying to muster his courage once more. His heart swayed like a ship upon stormy seas, tossed between despair and hope. Exhausted by the whirlwind of emotions, he fell asleep in the midst of preparing for his journey.
But his sleep was restless. In his dreams, he saw the seven elves and Crown Prince Kyle, gathered at the top of the tower, laughing and talking. He awoke with a smile, only to realize it was but a dream, and the truth struck him with such sorrow that he wept uncontrollably.
His face, swollen from tears, was a mess, but there was no one to see him, no one to offer comfort. An aching emptiness filled his heart. Seeking the warmth of the elves once more, he made his way to the top of the tower. He intended not only to take the pendant stones with him but also to bring their garments back to his room, for they, too, carried the memory of their touch.
As he ascended the spiral stairs that wound around the tall, thick walls of the tower, a distant howl echoed from the forest below. Crow paused, his breath catching. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard before—a deep, savage howl, fiercer than that of the wolves or bears the elves had once playfully mimicked for him. This was the cry of something much larger, more terrifying.
And it might not just be one creature. There should be many—perhaps of different kinds—calling out in the night.
With trepidation, Crow reached the top of the tower and opened the small window that had been shut tightly. He reassured himself that wolves and bears could not climb the tower; he was safe here.
But when he peered down through the open window, his heart nearly stopped. A great beast was scaling the tower, clawing its way up with sharp talons that sank into the stone. The thorny vines that grew around the tower did nothing to slow it down.
"No... no, this can't be...!" Crow gasped, horror tightening his throat.
He slammed the window shut and backed away, but in his panic, he had closed it too harshly. The window rebounded, swinging open once more.
I must close it! Quickly! Crow thought, but in his terror, he forgot about the power of his hair. Crawling on his hands and knees, he approached the window again, reaching out to grasp the handle as the howls of the beasts echoed from all corners of the forest.
Though he dared not look out again, the memory of the creature he had glimpsed haunted him. It had been covered in black fur, its body enormous. Red eyes gleamed in the darkness, and its long tongue lolled as it panted heavily. The sight had been brief, but it was seared into his mind as vividly as if it had been before him for hours.
Even the white mist of the creature's breath lingered in his vision.
That beast... it was so high up. How could something so large climb so far?
Crow crouched, still trembling, and pulled the window shut with his hand, only then remembering the magic within his hair. He quickly summoned the ends of his hair, which still trailed on the eighth floor below, and used its power to secure the lock.
Though it was just a simple latch, the heavy clink of metal offered a moment of relief.
It was halfway up the tower… It may climb even higher, but there's an iron plate under the window, and the stone joints are too tight. The beast can't find a place to grip…
Yet, unease still gnawed at Crow. He pressed his hair flat against the window doors, sealing it as best he could with the magic bestowed upon him. If the creature did manage to reach the window, the flimsy lock and wooden frame would be no match for its strength.
But his hair—that was a different story. The power hidden within it was far greater than his own. If it came to it, his enchanted hair might be enough to repel even a beast of such terrible size.
Calm down...think carefully. The stone joints only go partway up the tower. The upper portion is adorned with iron plates, and there are scarcely any cracks, none wide enough for claws to grip. The creature won't be able to climb all the way up. And even if it does… I have my hair. The power they gave me will keep me safe! No matter what beast comes, I will be alright!
Still shaking, Crow retreated to the spiral stairs that led to the ninth floor, his body trembling with fear. He focused all his strength on the hair sealing the window, holding his breath as his heart raced.
Then, that sound came.
A screeching, grating noise—gi-gi, gi-gi—so sharp it seemed to pierce his ears. The noise was so unbearable that he almost wanted to cover his ears, but the fear of losing awareness of what was happening outside kept him listening, forcing himself to endure.
The pain in his head was nearly overwhelming, yet the situation outside brought a strange sense of relief.
That's the sound of the beast scratching at the iron plates. It can't find a place to grip with its claws. It's trying to climb, but it isn't making any progress! It's just like I thought—it can't climb any higher!
Despite his trembling, Crow managed a faint smile, his eyes drifting to the stone set into his left wrist. The stones, once seven pendants, had been bound together into a bracelet.
Speaking as if to the original owners, he brightened, "It seems I'll be alright."
But his brief moment of relief was suddenly shattered. A deafening roar filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy crashing to the ground.
The beast had fallen—its enormous body had struck the earth below, despite the thorny, ever-blooming roses that covered the ground year-round. Even though his own safety was assured, Crow's heart ached deeply.
The massive, carnivorous beast was a terrifying enemy, but its hunger for flesh was merely instinct, a part of the design set in motion by the hands of the gods. It was not guilty of sin.
I hope... it's alright...
Crow let his hair's hold on the window loosen and cautiously approached the small opêning once again. If the creature had reached the upper part of the tower, the impact of the fall must have been great indeed. He didn't want the beast to attempt climbing again, but the thought of it dying pained him.
With such a large body, even the rabbits or foxes it preyed upon must have left it constantly unsatisfied. Perhaps it had smelled something more promising within the tower, or sensed prey within its walls. In any case, the fact that it had managed to climb the tower so deftly spoke of both its intelligence and courage.
I hope it's learned its lesson with just a bit of pain and won't return.
Hoping the beast was unharmed, Crow opened the window and peered down into the darkness. He could barely see, but far below, the creature was stirring, struggling to stand.
In his heart, Crow whispered, "I'm glad you didn't die."
He rejoiced at the beast's survival, assuming that it would now give up on scaling the tower and retreat into the night. After all, watching any living creature perish before him would be unbearable.
But then— "Ah... what... no...!"
Just as Crow sighed in relief, the sight before him made his heart race with disbelief. The injured beast, shaking off what seemed to be blood, began to climb once more.
He had always heard that animals, more than humans, remembered danger and learned quickly from pain. Yet this creature, undeterred, was clawing its way back up the tower, as determined as before.
Once again, its sharp talons found the small crevices between the stones, and it continued its slow but steady ascent.
Why... why won't it stop? No matter how hard you try, you won't be able to eat me. There are almost no cracks in the iron plates above... you'll fall again, and this time, you might really die.
Terror surged within Crow as he leaned out of the window, straining to see the placement of the iron plates. From where he stood, the height from the small window to the reinforced part of the tower was at least twice his own height.
Unless the creature knows magic, it's impossible for it to reach me.
"Stop... please, stop! It's dangerous!"
In its wounded state, the beast's progress was slow, each movement dragging it closer to exhaustion. Several times, its weight nearly sent it tumbling down, only for it to claw its way back up. At last, it reached the point where it could stretch its front claws toward the iron plates.
"Ugh... no..."
Once again, a sharp, unbearable sound rang out—gi-gi-gi-gi-gi—a shrill noise that burrowed deep into Crow's ears, as if his head might split apart. The beast, it seemed, was carefully choosing where to set its claws, but the result was always the same.
Before Crow could even scream, the creature's great body fell once again, this time halting its fall midway, claws embedded in the stone.
Crow exhaled in relief, but the creature was relentless. It began its climb once more, rising and falling, over and over, each time scraping at the iron plates, only to tumble down, sometimes crashing into the earth below, other times spinning in mid-air and landing gracefully on all fours.
"Dawn is near... please, give up already."
Exhausted from trying to reason with the beast, Crow glanced at the eastern sky, now faintly illuminated by the first hints of morning light. He called out to the beast that still clawed at the tower walls.
The creature, a massive, black figure resembling a wolf yet clearly something more, appeared not to understand him. Still panting heavily, it suddenly turned its gaze eastward. Without a word, it began to climb down of its own accord, retreating toward the ground.
At last... it's over.
Crow, who had spent countless sleepless hours leaning out of the window, collapsed, utterly drained. From the afternoon when the elves had vanished until now, there had been no peace—his body and mind were both thoroughly worn out.
Clad in only a thin, dark robe, the cold began to seep into him, and it was only now that he fully felt its bite.
"Please... don't come back again! Give up on trying to eat me!"
With all his strength, Crow shouted after the retreating beast, which had leaped from the tower halfway down. The creature looked back at him from the darkness, its crimson eyes gleaming with defiance. It shook its head, as if to say, "No, I won't give up. I'll eat you yet!" And with that, it disappeared into the forest, swift as a shadow.
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