Vol 1 Chapter 4: Rose Picnic and Grandma Dora’s Tears

The sky was clear and cloudless. A gentle spring breeze gently swayed the petals of wildflowers in the valley, and that day, Marry decided on one simple but precious thing: a full day off to be a mother, not a former executioner.

“Caelan, today we have a picnic!”

“Hyaaa!” Caelan jumped happily while holding a wicker basket filled with warm wheat bread, rose jam, and apple juice from the backyard. She was wearing a simple pink dress made by her mother, and a small ribbon adorned her silver hair.

They walked along the stone path that led to a small meadow on the edge of the valley river. Along the way, butterflies danced, small birds chirped, and the sound of the gurgling river sounded like a song composed especially for the mother and daughter.

“Mom, Caelan is going to feed the rabbits later!” Caelan exclaimed, pointing to the field on the left.

“What if the rabbits get scared because you’re too excited?” Marry teased while pinching her daughter’s cheeks.

“Then Caelan will be a flower, quiet and sweet!” she replied, raising her hands to form a flower crown on her head.

—

Peaceful Time in an Unpeaceful World

Marry and Caelan laid out a picnic cloth, and all afternoon they laughed, told stories, and made flower crowns. Caelan sat on Marry’s lap, listening to a fable about a lazy dragon who learned to grow vegetables.

The sunlight danced in their hair.

Time passed slowly—as if the world understood that today was a day that no one should take away.

—

The Fruit Shop and the Disturbing Tears

As the sun began to lean west, they walked home along the village road. When they passed a small fruit shop on the corner—the one they used to visit every Friday—Marry stopped in her tracks.

“Grandma Dora?” she called softly.

In front of the bench in the wooden shop that was usually crowded with pears and sweet oranges, sat an old woman with a wrinkled face full of tears. Her shoulders were shaking, and a small handkerchief was already wet in her grasp.

Caelan immediately ran over. “Grandma Dora, why are you crying?”

Grandma Dora slowly looked up, her eyes puffy. “Caelan… Marry… T—that child… grandma’s grandson, Thomas… hasn’t come home since yesterday…”

Marry crouched down, gently touching the wrinkled hand.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday morning… he said he was going to the forest behind the village to look for firewood… he usually comes home before lunch… but it’s been more than a day…”

Villagers rarely got lost like that. And the forest behind—ever since the incident seven years ago—had always had a dark reputation. People said there were still ‘remains of the old world’ that hadn’t died there.

Caelan hugged Grandma Dora with her small body. “Caelan can help you look. Thomas must be fine.”

Marry stared closely at the old face. Silently, her old instincts began to rise. She felt anxiety in the air, vague and bitter. Maybe nothing would happen… or maybe this was the beginning of something.

She sighed, then said, “I’ll look for him tonight. Don’t tell anyone yet, Grandma.”

Grandma Dora looked at her expectantly.

—

The Night Holds Many Things

That night, after tucking Caelan into bed and making sure the little girl was fast asleep in her arms, Marry got up. She put on the dark robe that had been buried under the floor of her house again. Her thin sword—which had once pierced a thousand chests—was once again hanging at her waist.

Caelan must not know.

Tonight, she was not Mama.

Tonight, she was a shadow.

A shadow that would reveal the truth…
Or a blood executioner who would finish off the criminals…
Was Thomas really just lost—
…or was the world starting to demand blood again?

“Mama will be back before you wake up, Caelan.”
“And the world… please don’t touch these innocent children.”