A black foot came down carefully onto the forest floor.
The ground was littered with loose stones, dead branches, and leaves that had been soaked by rain and were already beginning to rot.
When the foot pressed down, it did so slowly.
The toes spread slightly, inch by inch, as if searching—
searching for the one place least likely to make a sound.
Squch.
A sharp thorn hidden beneath the leaves was stepped on.
As thick as a thumb, hard and pointed, it pierced straight into the center of the sole.
There was no recoil.
No pause.
The foot continued forward.
The wooden spike snapped under the pressure, splintering apart. Broken fragments drove deep into flesh.
—There was no blood.
The thing kept walking.
Its gait was stiff, but steady.
The distance between each step was almost exactly the same,
as if it had been measured and corrected again and again.
It moved lightly.
So lightly that it did not feel alive.
As though it understood, on some instinctive level,
what sound meant.
Ten steps away, within the darkness, a tall, gaunt figure slowly emerged.
He did not speak.
He only raised one hand and pointed gently toward the hillside.
His fingers curled inward, forming a grasping gesture.
The thing nodded.
In its pale eyes there was no emotion.
Only the narrow, unwavering focus unique to a hunter.
At the top of the slope, two youths—fourteen or fifteen at most—sat facing each other.
The evening glow fell across them.
The girl's face was lit red by the sunset,
as though warmed lightly by fire.
She looked healthy, alive, unmistakably real.
As she spoke, she unconsciously hugged her knees,
resting her head gently against them.
"You were really clumsy when you chased that prey just now."
Chun tilted her head and smiled at the boy beside her.
Wei stood a full head taller than she did.
His skin was darkened by the sun,
and his shoulders were broader than those of boys his age.
He frowned and put on a show of irritation.
"Clumsy? No way. I just wasn't watching my footing."
"Liar."
Chun narrowed her eyes."I saw you almost fall."
She had hit the mark.
Wei's ears warmed slightly. Embarrassed, he stood up and muttered in protest.
"…The ground was uneven, that's all."
"Excuses."
She gave a soft snort. Her tone wasn't sharp, and the corners of her mouth lifted faintly.
The light in the forest was slowly fading.
Wind slipped through the leaves, carrying with it the cool breath that belonged only to night.
Rustle—
Something stirred in the bushes behind Chun.
It was faint.
So faint it could almost be swallowed by the sound of the wind.
But Wei heard it.
The smile vanished from his face in an instant.
Chun noticed nothing.
She was still talking, still relaxed.
But Wei could no longer hear her words.
His breathing skipped a beat.
It wasn't a trick of sound.
It wasn't the play of shadows.
It was a strange sense of misalignment, impossible to name.
As if everything around him remained exactly where it was,
yet one crucial piece—something vital—
had been quietly shifted into place.
He saw a line.
Not with his eyes.
The line appeared directly within his awareness.
It extended outward from deep within his shoulder,
straight and unbending,
cold and composed,
without the slightest deviation.
And its endpoint—
was behind Chun.
"Don't move!"
The words left his mouth at the same moment his body moved.
The hunting knife left his hand.
No aiming.
No hesitation.
The blade flew with unnatural steadiness.
So steady it felt as if
it had already traveled that distance once before.
In the next instant—
The bushes behind Chun exploded outward.
A gray-brown venomous snake sprang from the leaf litter.
Its body coiled into a taut arc.
Fangs flipped outward as it lunged straight for her face.
The knife skimmed past Chun's cheek.
"Ah—!"
Her scream only made it halfway out.
The blade pierced straight through the snake's head,
pinning it in midair.
The precision was terrifying.
The snake's body convulsed violently once,
then went completely rigid.
The forest fell silent.
Leaves still swayed.
The wind still passed through the trees.
The snake looked as if it had been fixed against an invisible wall.
Then, powerless, it dropped to the ground.
All the color drained from Chun's face.
She turned.
She saw the red-and-yellow patterned snake.
Then she slowly lifted her gaze to Wei.
"You…"
Her voice tightened.
"Did you… did you notice it earlier?"
Wei didn't answer.
His eyes were still fixed on the knife.
The knife was already gone.
By the time he realized what he'd done, the snake had only just coiled off the ground.
There had been no process of aiming.
Not even the conscious thought I need to save her.
That strike
had already been completed within his awareness.
The snake had merely moved into its path.
Wei walked over and pulled the knife free.
The blade was still warm, coated with fresh snake blood.
Only then did Chun let out a slow breath.
She forced a smile.
"That scared me to death… good thing you reacted so fast."
She tried to treat it as luck.
But Wei's chest suddenly felt tight.
Because he realized something—
if that"line,"
even slightly,
had shifted—
what was pinned to the ground
might not have been a snake.
"What's wrong?"
Chun noticed his strange silence.
Wei shook his head.
"It's nothing."
But the hand gripping the hunting knife
was trembling, ever so slightly.
For the first time, he understood clearly—
this power, which surfaced only now and then,
was not waiting for him to make a decision.
It was only waiting—
for a target clear enough
to lock onto.