— GUSTAV BERNHEIM —
Day yielded its throne to night, which spread its darkness across the land.
This night felt especially bleak.
Grandfather Gustav stood before the mirror. His gray hair testified to his age, and his wrinkled, worn face told the story of a life filled with experiences and memories. His eyes stared back at him dully, already knowing that the end had come.
At first, he hadn't believed the voice that foretold his death.
But the closer the day drew near, the clearer the truth became.
I am going to die.
In the mirror, he noticed a small figure lying on the bed behind him.
It was his granddaughter, Kubato. She was fast asleep, exhausted after they had spent the entire previous day outside together.
Kubato was a beastkin—a small girl with wolf ears and a wolf's tail.
The society they lived in despised beastkin, which was why Gustav had hidden her and kept her with him ever since the day she was born.
"It's time, isn't it?" he murmured to his reflection.
He felt his heart beating slower than it had in the past few days. His bones were old and brittle, his skin wrinkled, his body fragile and worn. The fact that he was still alive at all felt like a miracle.
On the desk beside him lay an open box.
Inside it rested a black amulet with a pendant that stared back at him like a dark, unblinking eye. A sinister aura emanated from it, as if it were cursed—or as if something more than a mere stone dwelled within.
"You warned me about this day," Gustav said softly. His voice was weak and cracked in places. He spoke to the amulet as if it were a living being.
"I have done everything I could… prepared everything… to protect Kubato once I am gone."
The stone did not answer.
In the dim light of the room, the amulet seemed to glimmer faintly—or perhaps a shadow passed over it—but Gustav dismissed it as imagination.
He looked around the room.
It had been furnished with a child in mind, arranged so Kubato could feel safe and comfortable.
Slowly, he reached for the amulet and lifted it from the box. It felt cold in his hand and heavier than it should have been. Tears welled in his eyes as he brought it closer.
"I beg you," he whispered. His voice broke completely, tears streaming down his face despite his effort to hold them back.
"Please protect Kubato. Once I'm gone, she'll have no one left. Please… protect her."
The amulet remained silent. Unresponsive.
Or was it Gustav who was losing his mind?
Were these just delusions haunting him at night? Dreams? Hallucinations? That pale face he sometimes saw—was it all imaginary?
No.
Gustav had lived his life honorably. He had never drunk alcohol, never used drugs, never smoked. He had always been sober, always doing his best for the country—though he never supported its fanatical regime. Throughout his life, he had worked closely with beastkin and realized early on that they were no different from humans.
Fear tightened in his chest. His heart pounded with anxiety. He pressed the amulet against his chest, hoping—desperately—for some kind of sign.
But there was nothing.
At last, he steadied himself and stood up from his chair. He clutched the amulet tightly in his hand—his last hope, his final wish, the only thing he could leave behind for his granddaughter.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the sleeping girl.
Kubato had been rejected by her mother on the day she was born. Her mother was human and had been assaulted by a wolfman. Kubato was the child of that beastkin—who no longer lived.
Gently, Gustav stroked her silver hair, brushing past her soft wolf ears.
The touch stirred her. She opened her tired eyes, her yellow irises shimmering faintly as she looked at him in confusion.
"Grandpa? What time is it?" she asked sleepily.
"My child," Gustav said softly. "Come, wake up. It's already dark, and I wanted to give you something."
Kubato became alert at once. Faster than he could react, she jumped up in her gray pajamas and looked at him with bright, curious eyes.
"A present?"
Gustav had rarely given her gifts. Ever since he had saved her from her hate-filled mother, he had done everything he could to give her a good life—though it was never easy. Whenever they went outside, he had to hide her ears and tail. Most of the time, they stayed in his apartment, watching shows, playing games, and studying. He had taught her how to read, write, and count—sending her to school was impossible.
"Yes," Gustav replied, smiling at her with sad eyes.
He placed the amulet around her neck. At the same time, he pulled her into his arms and began to cry.
He knew this was his final gift.
He knew he was leaving her alone in a world that hated her.
Yet all his hope rested in the amulet.
It was a family heirloom passed down from his great-grandfather. No one knew where it truly came from or what its value was. It was an unknown stone. But Gustav had discovered more than anyone else.
A soul resided within it—one capable of foreseeing his death.
Gustav wept bitterly. This was a farewell, though Kubato didn't understand what was happening.
"Grandpa, why are you crying?" she asked gently, stroking his hair to comfort him.
He held her tightly, pressing her warm body against his one last time, covering her head with countless kisses.
"Here," he said, drawing her attention to the amulet. Holding her close, he lifted it before her eyes.
"This is my gift to you. It will protect you whenever you are in danger."
Kubato looked at the cold stone with excitement and took it into her small hands.
"It's really pretty."
Gustav nodded and added quietly,
"It's a family heirloom. And today, I pass it on to you."
The little wolf girl was overjoyed. She looked up at her grandfather and kissed him on the cheek.
"I love you, Grandpa."
The unrest inside Gustav faded away.
Holding his granddaughter brought him peace—yet the knowledge that he would leave her behind shattered his heart.
Kubato yawned, and Gustav noticed.
"It's probably time to go back to sleep."
"But I'm not tired yet," Kubato lied, even as her eyes began to close.
Gustav smiled warmly.
"Come on. Let's sleep."
She didn't resist this time.
Gustav lay down beside her and embraced the child as if it were the last time he would ever see her.
Because it was.
He knew it was almost over. Soon, he would have to leave Kubato behind. And that knowledge broke him.
His thoughts returned to what dwelled within the amulet. With a final whisper, spoken just past Kubato's ears, he begged,
"Please… protect her."
He held her in his arms. Her warmth accompanied him through his final moments. He grew tired as well—yet he knew this was no ordinary sleep.
Darkness slowly overtook him. His grip loosened as Kubato slept soundly, and his last wish escaped his trembling lips.
"A…kumu… Please… protect her."
Before the darkness consumed him completely, the silhouette of a pale face formed before his fading eyes. Black eyes gazed at him, and a gentle, quiet voice accompanied his departing soul.
"I owe you nothing…
But I will take care of it."
Gustav Bernheim passed away.