The Girl Who Wasn't There

When Seira’s eyes snapped open, the first thing she felt was the strange object clutched tight inside her fist. Small. Crinkly. A slight movement of her fingers made the crumpled wrapper rustle against her palm. It was a strawberry-candy wrapper.

Seira stared down at it with hollow eyes.

The red paper was ruined, soaked in dirt and cold sweat. Its edges were crushed beyond recognition, and the candy it once held had long since vanished.

Still she would not release it. Why? The question had barely formed before shattered fragments of memory crashed over her. The rundown cabin. The monster waiting beyond the door. Ria’s arm. The metallic stench of blood. I’ll listen later. And then the explosion. Seira’s eyes flew wide.

“Ria?” The name burst from her lips before she could stop it.

The guild leader sitting beside the bed lifted his head. His face was drawn with exhaustion, eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night.

“Seira.”

“Where is Ria?”

She tried to rise. The room spun violently. The guild leader caught her shoulders at once.

“You mustn’t get up yet.”

“Where is she?” Seira pushed at his hands. There was almost no strength left in her arms, yet she could not stop. “She’s in that forest. I saw everything. She saved me!”

The guild leader did not answer immediately. In that brief silence, suspicion bloomed inside her chest. Why won’t he speak? Why won’t he say he brought her back?

The wrapper crinkled again between her trembling fingers.

“Father.” Her voice grew smaller. “Where is Ria?”

His lips parted with visible effort.

“At the site… the child was not there.”

Seira blinked, uncomprehending. The words refused to settle in her mind.

“What do you mean she wasn’t there?”

“I sent men. I checked with my own eyes.” His voice had sunk to a low, heavy murmur. “We found monster remains and the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wreckage of the cabin destroyed by the blast. The earth was torn up, and above all there were clear traces of black magic.”

“Then where is Ria?”

“……”

“Where is she?”

He could not answer. His gaze slid away. Seira drew a sharp breath; it felt as though something inside her chest had torn open.

“She has to be there. She was right there. I saw her with my own eyes!”

“Seira.”

“She promised to listen to everything later.” Seira seized his sleeve in a death grip. “She promised!”

So she had to come back. No matter what, Ria had to return to her side.

I still haven’t told her anything. That I still love strawberry candies more than anything. That I didn’t mean it when I said I hated her. That I didn’t mean it when I screamed at her not to look for me. Not one word. How can she just disappear?

Seira shook her head frantically.

“No. We have to search again.”

“We already—”

“We have to search again!”

The guild leader fell silent. Seira’s voice had gone hoarse, her throat scraped raw as dry sand.

“She was there. So we must go back. If we hurry even now, surely—”

At that moment, voices drifted through the closed door—murmurs overlapping in the corridor.

At first she could not tell them apart. Then the familiar tones of the senior merchants layered one over another.

“Still… honestly, that child was always a little strange, wasn’t she?”

“Shh. The young lady just woke up. Watch your tongue.”

“No, some things must be said. Our entire caravan nearly became monster fodder. Are we simply going to bury it?”

Seira froze.

The guild leader frowned and glanced toward the door, but he made no move to silence them. The voices outside dropped lower, yet the secretive whispers refused to die.

“You’ve heard the rumors—black magicians have been appearing more and more lately.”

“And the monsters on the northern forest road suddenly surged around the same time.”

A short silence. Then someone added cautiously, “And right after we changed our route for that child, this happened.”

Seira’s hands tightened on the blanket.

“That child was odd from the start,” another voice said. “They found her collapsed in front of the carriage, yet there wasn’t a single scratch on her.”

“They said she had a fever, but… now that I think about it, even that seems suspicious.”

Seira swallowed hard. What are they saying?

A lower voice continued, “And her eyes were too sharp.”

“What do you mean?”

“We only traveled together a few days, yet she grasped the exact placement of our cargo and saw through every one of our habits. Looking back… wasn’t she watching us?”

Seira’s fingertips turned to ice.

“No way.”

Someone gave a small, disbelieving laugh that cut off quickly.

“It’s not as if she knew everything from the beginning and deliberately led us into this trap.”

After that, silence.

Seira kicked the blanket aside.

“That’s not true.”

The guild leader gripped her shoulder. “Seira.”

“It’s not true!” This time she shouted. The whispering beyond the door ceased. On shaking legs she stood, body swaying, and shook off the hand that tried to steady her. She flung the door open.

The merchants stood clustered outside, faces startled. Seira hated every expression—worry, discomfort, pity. All of it.

“Ria is not that kind of person.” Every gaze pinned her. Her voice trembled, but she could not stop. “It’s not like that.”

Yet she did not know what else to say. That the silver-haired girl’s observation had been suspiciously keen. That she had secretly studied the caravan’s movements. That she had deliberately lured them into the jaws of black magic. She knew all those claims were false, but she had no words to prove why.

So she spoke only what she had witnessed.

“Ria saved me.” The words came out tangled with sobs. “When the monster charged at me, she blocked it. Her arm was bitten, she bled so much…” The scene replayed before her eyes—blood-soaked sleeve, forced smile. It was scary, wasn’t it? Seira bit her lip until it hurt.

“If she were evil, she could have left me. The monster was coming straight for me, but Ria stood in its way while bleeding! She told me to run, to not look back, just to save me!”

Her breath hitched; tears spilled down her flushed face.

“Then why… why do you call her a bad person?”

She could not finish. Resentment and grief choked her throat.

One of the porters cleared his throat awkwardly.

“The young lady appears to have suffered a severe shock.”

Seira’s eyes snapped toward him.

“Having seen such a thing right before her eyes, she must still be confused.”

Those words swept away everything she had said. The bitten arm, the blood, the sacrifice—everything became the babbling of a frightened child. “No,” was all she could manage. “It’s not like that.”

But she had no more words. The gazes upon her only grew gentler, more careful. Those eyes said: The poor young lady is still in shock.

Seira clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. The guild ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leader spoke in a low, authoritative tone.

“All of you, be silent. Do not spread baseless rumors inside the caravan.”

The merchants lowered their heads.

Seira looked up at her father like a drowning girl reaching for a rope. She waited, breathless. Now he will say it. He will say Ria is not that kind of child.

After a long silence, the guild leader continued, voice chillingly calm.

“However, it is true that certain points remain unexplained.”

Seira’s lips pressed into a rigid line.

“It may be true that the child saved you.” His tone was measured. “But we cannot conclude she has no connection to black magic.”

For a moment Seira could not speak. Even Father. Even Father does not believe in Ria.

“No.” The word slipped out, small and broken. “She… she only wanted to save me.”

The guild leader reached toward her, face full of pity.

“Seira, you need rest now.”

“It was all because of me…” Tears soaked the words. “It happened because of me.”

“Young lady, you must first regain your strength,” a maid said, moving to support her. Seira recoiled as though burned. They were all the same. Not one person here believed in Ria. No matter what she said, they only saw a frightened little girl.

Then a small voice spoke.

“I also…”

Seira’s head whipped around. It was Noah. He would not meet her eyes, only fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

“I thought it was a little strange too.”

Seira’s breath stopped.

“What?”

Noah licked his lips. “Not that she was bad, but… she never seemed like an ordinary person from the start.”

“……”

“And that explosion. If it really was connected to black magic…”

“Not you too…” Seira whispered.

Noah looked up. “Seira, I only—”

She flew at him, small hands seizing his collar.

“Everyone else might not know, but you do.”

“Seira.”

“You know.” Her voice shook. “When you were sick with that cold, Ria took care of you! When you broke something while packing, she covered for you without telling anyone! The three of us laughing together behind the wagons!”

Noah’s lips pressed shut. Seira gripped him harder.

“You know how kind and good she is!” Tears fell freely. “So how… how can you suspect her?”

Noah said nothing. The silence felt like judgment. Seira shoved him away. The guild leader’s hand closed on her shoulder.

“That’s enough.”

Seira shook her head. She did not want to stop. No one believed in Ria. No one had gone to find her. And still… Ria had not returned.

After that, Seira asked the same question every single day.

“Did you go into the forest to look for her?”

At first she grabbed passing porters.

“Has our sister still not come back?”

Then she clung to her father’s sleeve.

“Why is everyone just sitting here?”

Later she asked anyone she could reach. Eventually the words grew fewer.

“I… still haven’t told her…”

Clutching the crumpled candy wrapper, Seira whispered, “Ria still…”

Whenever anyone approached the caravan she lifted her head. At the sound of wheels she looked toward the door. If anything silver flashed along the roadside she leapt to her feet. But it was never Ria. Ria did not come.

The next day. The day after that.

At first she waited with endless hope. Because Ria had promised to listen later. Because Ria had always come for her—whether Seira hid, whether she cried, whether she said she hated her. So she would come this time too.

But Ria did not come.

Every night Seira fell asleep facing the door. Every morning she checked the road first. Ria was nowhere.

Only then did the thought surface: This is punishment. Because she had answered Ria so pettily. Because she had shouted at her not to come. Because she had said she hated her with words she never meant. So now Ria was staying away. Because Seira had done the same, Ria was pretending not to hear.

When she thought of it that way, she could endure it a little. She could understand a little.

Still, she would wait. No matter how long. Until Ria came back, touched her cheek the way she always had, stroked her hair, and said it was all right. She would wait until that day arrived.

From a certain day onward, Seira stopped crying. She no longer blushed or grew angry when she saw Noah. Even when someone casually spoke Ria’s name, she did not rush forward shouting as before. The merchants breathed cautious sighs of relief.

“Thank goodness. It seems the young lady has finally moved past the shock.”

“Children forget quickly at that age. Time heals all things.”

Seira listened in silence and said nothing.

Then someone offered her a strawberry candy.

“Young lady, you like these best… I bought one at the market.”

The red wrapper lay in her palm. Once her eyes would have followed it instantly; saliva would have filled her mouth and her fingers would have moved before she could think. Now Seira simply stared at it for a long time. It was the candy Ria had always placed in her hand.

She did not reach out.

“It’s all right.” Her voice was quiet, yet steady and unshaken.

The person withdrew the candy awkwardly. Seira offered a faint smile—the same gentle smile Ria used to give, the kind that reassured others so they would not worry.

It was not that she had recovered. No matter how loudly she cried, no one listened. No matter how correct her words, a small, trembling voice changed nothing. So she had to learn. She had to learn words that opened ears, methods that moved people, positions that made them bow their heads.

“Seira.” The guild leader called softly.

Seira, seated at the desk, slowly raised her head.

“Yes, Guild Leader.”

Silence filled the room. The guild leader’s eyebrows twitched.

“…What did you just call me?”

Seira looked down at the thick ledger beneath her small hands. The pages were dense with numbers and symbols, unfamiliar village names, dozens of trading partners whose names tangled in her mind. Still she never set the ledger aside.

“I was taught that during official guild business it is proper to address you as Guild Leader.”

The guild leader studied her for a long moment. Relief and bewilderment warred on his face. Seira understood: he wanted to see this as a positive change. That she had finally collected herself. That she was becoming a proper successor.

So she smiled again—gentle, small, just enough to keep him from worrying. Exactly as Ria once had. The guild leader could not find words. Seira returned her gaze to the ledger.

Money was needed to build roads. Roads were needed to move people. People had to be moved to find any trace of the sister who had vanished.

Yet it was not enough.

Ria had been too kind, too fragile; she trusted people easily. She approached the sick first, covered for others’ mistakes in silence, could not walk past someone crying. So people had loved her. And the moment she disappeared, those same people suspected her.

Seira never forgot that.

Therefore she would learn. How to smile like Ria. How to help first like Ria. How to say “it’s all right” like Ria. How to make people lower their guard.

When they did, they gradually revealed their true hearts—those who were grateful, those who were sorry, those who smiled while lying, those who held hands in public and turned away in private.

From among them Seira would choose.

When Ria returned, this time she would speak properly. That she still loved the candies. That she had never hated her. That she had waited all this time. So until then the place where Ria would return must remain clean. So the gentle sister would never be hurt again.

Those who had doubted Ria. Those who had feared her. Those who had turned their heads in silence, ignoring the truth. She would remember every one of them.

Seira memorized each name written in the ledger. So that when Ria came back to her side, she could separate the names allowed to remain from the names that must be erased.

The village had already fallen silent. Only moments earlier it had echoed with screams, weeping, and the monsters’ horrific howls.

The holy knight brought his sword down indifferently. The head of the final monster tumbled onto the dirt with a dull thud. Black blood oozed thickly from the severed neck.

“…Strange,” murmured Mariel, the young nun dispatched from the Holy Kingdom. She lifted her head before a collapsed house.

“Is it finished?”

“For now.” The knight flicked black blood from his blade. “But it is strange.”

“What is?”

“The creatures that were rushing toward the village in a frenzy suddenly turned as one.”

The knight’s hard gaze moved toward the pitch-black forest beyond the village outskirts. Broken branches and trampled earth led in a single direction.

“As if something had drawn them away.”

A dark shadow crossed Mariel’s face.

“The influence of black magic?”

“We must investigate.” The knight adjusted his grip on his sword and gave a short bow. “Sister Mariel, please search for survivors here. I will scout the perimeter and return shortly.”

“Will you be all right alone?”

“It won’t take long.”

Without hesitation the knight strode toward the forest’s edge. Mariel watched his retreating back, then turned her eyes back to the ruined village. Collapsed roofs. Charred pillars. Blood-soaked paths. Houses that gave no answer.

She wiped blood from her hands onto her habit.

“Is anyone there?”

No reply came. She stepped carefully over the broken wall. With every footfall, fragments of wood crumbled beneath her.

Then her steps halted.

At first she could not tell what she was seeing. Torn cloth. Scorched earth. And between them, a small, curled hand.

Mariel’s lips parted. It was a child. The form was nearly unrecognizable—whether mauled by monsters or crushed beneath debris, she could not tell. But the protruding hand was far too small. The shoe half-buried in mud. The tiny button at the end of a torn sleeve. That was enough.

Mariel knelt slowly.

“…Ah.”

Her lips moved, yet no prayer emerged at once. With a trembling hand she reached out and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gently laid her palm over what had once been a child.

From her fingertips, brilliant golden holy power rose like warm mist—the sacred light that granted the dead their final rest, the proof of mercy she had studied her entire life.

“Please…” Mariel’s voice drifted softly. “In that place, may you never feel pain again.”

The light spread in silence. The small remains touched by holy power slowly crumbled into ash. Wind rose. The ashes scattered low before Mariel’s knees and drifted upward.

“In that place, may you never feel fear.”

Mariel bowed her head deeply. The prayer should have ended. Yet she could not withdraw her hand. White ash clung to her fingertips. She stared at it, dazed.

“Lord.”

The whisper was so small and fragile she barely recognized it as her own.

“I was taught I must never dare to doubt Your will.” Her fingers shook. “That death holds meaning, that suffering has purpose, and that even what I cannot comprehend must be accepted in faith.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Yet I do not understand.”

Tears fell onto the dirt.

“What sin did this small child commit?”

There was no answer.

“What did this child know, what did she choose, what did she hate that she had to meet such an end?”

Mariel clasped her hands. Ash stained her fingers.

“She was not an evil person wielding a sword. She would never have cursed anyone. She was a fragile child without even the strength to flee.”

Forgetting that her habit was being soiled by the earth, Mariel’s voice collapsed.

“I know. As a servant of the divine I must not dare resent You.” She clenched her teeth. “But in this moment my meager faith is shaking.”

Still the words would not stop.

She bowed even lower toward the ground where the child’s ashes lay scattered.

“Why take even a child like this?”

“Why does this world always shatter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the weakest first?”

“Why do You simply watch a world where screams reach You before prayers?”

Mariel’s shoulders trembled. She wanted to believe. She had to believe. That was why she could not endure it.

“If I am wrong, rebuke me.”

“If I am weak, punish me.”

“If I am a sinner for daring to doubt Your will, I will accept that sin gladly.”

Her voice broke.

“But if You are truly watching…” She lowered her head until her forehead touched the ashes. “Please answer me. Tell me why this child had to end this way.”

The final words faltered.

“Or…”

The plea trembled on the edge of breaking.

“Or at least give me some proof that You are still watching this place.”