3. The Girl
After the incident at the mine entrance, Emily went around asking the village aunties and uncles whenever she got the chance if they knew a man who was entirely white. Everyone showed interest upon hearing her description of the man. Some aunties tilted their heads, trying to recall something, while some uncles trailed off with, "I think I know who, but..." They all made an effort to say something, but in the end, they just shook their heads, saying they weren't sure or didn't really know.
Days passed, but the responses she heard from those around her were all the same, as if they'd rehearsed them. No one knew. Disappointed, Emily sat blankly in front of the gate.
Today, the village was quiet because her mother and the neighborhood aunties had gone out early in the morning to pick ripe wild berries from the fields, each with a basket tucked under her arm. Gathering wild berries along the foothills surrounding the village or by the babbling streams was extremely important for the village women at this time of year. During peak wild berry season, they diligently collected them over several days to make jam or rustic pies packed with sugar. The sweet-tart flavor was a delight, so husbands looked forward to dinner during berry season and hurried home early from the tavern without straying.
Emily's father, Chris, wasn't one for sweets, so unlike other households where everyone mobilized to pick berries, only Marie had gone out with a basket from their home.
"Haa."
Squatting idly in front of the gate under the midday sun, Emily idly scratched the dirt floor with a short, thick twig, creating shallow furrows. As she sat lost in thought, recalling the events at the mine entrance, she heard footsteps approaching from afar. Curious who it could be at this hour when the village was all but deserted, she didn't bother turning her head, too absorbed in her doodling. The footsteps she'd been hearing grew closer and then stopped. Someone spoke from beside her.
"Emily."
She'd already guessed from the voice, but glancing sidelong at the large man's hand on her shoulder and looking up, it was indeed Mark from next door. Well, he was the only uncle in the village who called her Emily. They all teasingly called the skinny girl with short hair and boyish clothes "Emily."
"...The mine?"
Her father had gone to work at the mine as usual today, so why was Uncle still here? Emily narrowed her eyes as she asked, and Mark shrugged indifferently.
"I wasn't feeling well this morning, so I decided to take the day off. What about you? Didn't you go with your mom?"
"Dad doesn't like wild berries. No need for two of us to go pick them when he won't eat much anyway."
Mark nodded as if he understood and sat down next to her. He sat closer than usual, making Emily feel a twinge of discomfort. His arm brushed her shoulder, which felt awkward, and she started to stand when Mark spoke.
"...That man in white. The one you've been asking around about lately."
Emily froze at his sudden words, her face lighting up with curiosity. Mark, in his late thirties with dark brown hair, smirked satisfactorily as Emily's gray eyes sparkled with interest while she stared at him.
"I got curious too, so I asked Reese at the tavern. As you know, he deals with the most outsiders as the innkeeper, so he knows all sorts of trivia."
The moment Mark finished, Emily eagerly pressed for more.
"And? Did Uncle Reese tell you?"
Mark just smiled without a word. The curious face gazing at him was still that of a child, but she took after her father Chris and was strikingly beautiful. Ugly Marie seemed jealous of her daughter, deliberately cutting her hair short and dressing her in baggy old clothes to raise her like a boy. But Mark figured that once Emily's body developed into a woman's soon enough, she'd become a stunning beauty. No matter how hard Marie tried, she wouldn't be able to hide that radiant allure.
Mark eyed Emily appraisingly. Her platinum blonde hair shone brilliantly, she was taller than her peers, and her slender neck and arms looked like they could be grasped in one hand. His gaze lingered on her flat chest. A faint smile of satisfaction curved his lips. Personally, he preferred girls with this boyish, undeveloped look over women with mature figures. While most men drooled over women with narrow waists and full, protruding breasts, he favored fragile, skinny, flat-chested girls with soft, tender skin.
His eyes moved to Emily's face. Her innocent, pure white face, untouched by the world, brimmed with curiosity. Her clear, transparent gray eyes always stirred his greed whenever he saw them. Emily opened her mouth, gazing at the smiling, gentle-eyed Mark with her lips pressed firmly together.
"Come on. I'm dying to know. What did Uncle Reese say?"
Even as Emily's gray eyes sparkled with curiosity, Mark kept smiling without answering right away.
"...Huh?"
Emily grabbed his forearm pleadingly, her voice laced with desperation. As her delicate fingers wrapped around his bare skin, Mark glanced at the pale, slender hand gripping his sturdy arm and finally spoke.
"Reese wouldn't tell me at first, so I sat at the tavern bar and bought quite a few drinks. Once I boosted his sales enough, he finally opened up. But since I went through some trouble to find out, I can't just tell you for free..."
Mark trailed off and covered Emily's slender white hand on his arm with his own large one. Caught off guard as her hand was pinned, Emily looked up at him with an uneasy expression.
"It's valuable info, you know. Aren't you curious about who he is?"
With a playful smile playing on his lips, Mark teased. Emily blinked her big eyes and nodded vigorously.
"Yes! I am. Really. Uncle, can't you tell me now?"
Mark gripped her hand tightly, as if reluctant to let go, and stood up. Emily was pulled to her feet and followed as he led her. He was taking her to his house—no one else lived there, but since they were next door, it wasn't unfamiliar; she'd come and gone like it was her own before. But today, with Mark's oddly intimate vibe since sitting too close earlier, Emily stiffened and stopped right at his front door. Her gray eyes looking up at him wavered anxiously.
Then Mark abruptly let go of her hand with a thwack.
"Well, you don't seem that interested anyway. Never mind."
He taunted the hesitant Emily.
"You can go to the tavern yourself, buy some drinks to boost sales, and coax it out of Reese. He knows all about the man in white, after all."
At the mention of the man in white, Emily's eyes flashed with interest. Mark continued.
"Going with Chris wouldn't be bad either. Though your mom would hate him hanging around the tavern."
Emily looked conflicted at his casual jab. Marie was fiercely possessive of her husband. She couldn't hide her displeasure at the envious glances village women gave handsome Chris. It wasn't like stunning Chris had chased after plain Marie, after all. She certainly wouldn't let her tall, fit, good-looking husband—who still drew women's flirtatious looks when out alone—frequent a tavern where barmaids rubbed up against patrons.
"...As you know, your dad is a huge hit at the tavern. Girls flock to him."
His final words drove the impossibility home. Emily reached out reluctantly and grabbed the end of Mark's sleeve.
"What do I have to do for you to tell me?"
Mark smiled triumphantly at her awkward, reluctant question.
"Nothing much. There's a tiny mouse hole in the gap behind the kitchen shelf. The mice keep coming and going, making noise. They're nocturnal, so I can't sleep at night. Just help me block it. I can't reach inside because my hand's too thick. You can, though."
Mark eyed her slender hand. Resolved, Emily turned toward his front door. As she finally stepped inside, Mark shut the door firmly. The village was practically empty now, so some noise leaking out didn't matter, but it never hurt to be thorough.
In Eliyum's dark alleys, there were plenty of children you could touch for a few coins, but none as pretty as Emily after scouring everywhere. Especially those large, jewel-like gray eyes gleaming on her smooth white cheeks—they made him dizzy just looking. He'd hugged countless young children in Eliyum's brothels, unable to resist his urges, but none were Emily. His mind repeated "no" endlessly, but the secret craving coiled inside grew stronger, and this morning, upon discovering the village empty, Mark's dark desire boldly emerged.
Pacing restlessly in the dim room, forgetting time, he spotted Emily sitting idly by the gate. That's when sinister desire began whispering in his ear. As the distance between them closed, the intimate cries of desire grew clearer, and Mark finally surrendered.
"Where is it? I can't see the gap."
The kitchen was dim even at midday, the single small window—the only one open this morning—sealed tight. Mark drank in the sight of Emily's back as she looked around, slowly licking his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. A tense, chewy thrill spread from the inside of his lips outward where his wet tongue grazed.
He wouldn't hurt her. Just a little, to quench the burning, desperate thirst in his heart—a tiny bit would do.