To My Beloved, I Present My Exquisite Nightmare (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 1

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Chapter 1. Something You Shouldn’t See (1)

Laila Chrisrad’s earliest memory was the bitter scent that emanated from her cradle.

Lying in that cradle was none other than Laila herself, newly born. It had been less than a week since she first saw the light of the world, and breathing on her own felt unbearably difficult. The unfamiliar smells and unpredictable air touching her skin were simply unbearable.

Wrapped tightly in a rough—likely low-quality linen—swaddling cloth, Laila was lifted by her mother. As her mother brought her face close, Laila caught the bitter scent emanating from her. She was exhausted and struggled to breathe just as much as Laila did.

—You have eyes different from mine.

Her mother spoke to Laila.

—Don’t look at them. Don’t listen to them, and don’t wave your hand at them either. Just let them pass by you, wailing as they go. My daughter, your name is Laila. And like my mother, and her mother before her, and all the witches before you, you also carry the name Chrisrad.

Then she laid Laila back into the cradle and sat down in a creaking chair, letting out a long sigh. It was in that very place she had given birth to Laila, and it was there she remained until her final breath.

Sometimes she wept, and sometimes she groaned while staring at Laila in the cradle.

For a long time, Laila thought it was merely a dream, but eventually realized it wasn’t. It was Laila’s memory—her first encounter with her mother. A small yet complete world.

Laila Chrisrad, daughter of a witch. That was the name by which she was known.

[This is the timeline separator]

The village of Rijicus was located at the northernmost tip of the Searrow Kingdom. Most of its people raised sheep or goats for a living and spent one season each autumn or winter logging timber. Under the shadow of the Rogas Mountains—whose peaks and valleys turned uniformly ashen whenever the weather grew overcast or cold—the villagers lived simple lives.

Even among the bland and modest lives in Rijicus, Laila Chrisrad’s existence was the most monotonous and unremarkable. Her house stood alone at the entrance to the Rogas Mountains, so ancient that no one could say when it had been built. Sometimes even Laila herself wondered in astonishment how the place, which looked like a decaying ruin from afar, managed to remain standing.

Still, regardless of the reason, this was undeniably fortunate. For Laila, who couldn’t easily go down to the village even when she needed something, having a roof that steadfastly endured storms and gales was nothing short of a blessing—though perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration.

“Hmph. A blessing, my foot.”

Laila muttered sarcastically to herself as she looked up at the old roof tiles, a basket tucked under her arm.

Meanwhile, the children of Rijicus grew up hearing the same warning from the moment they were old enough to walk and run around: “Don’t go near the entrance of the Rogas Mountains.” If a child stubbornly asked, “Why not?” their parents wouldn’t respond with a slap of the switch—but with these words instead:

—A witch lives there. If you get too close, she’ll kill you without a sound and throw you into her pot. Or worse—she’ll pluck out your pretty eyes and replace them with sharp stones.

Their words were half-truth and half-lie. Laila was indeed a witch’s daughter—and a witch herself. But she had neither the desire nor the intention to boil children in pots or gouge out their eyes.

Still, since she preferred quietude, she never felt the need to correct the rumors. Thus, Laila’s dull, shabby life proceeded largely in a state of satisfactory comfort.

That was, until recently—until a certain problem arose around her.

“Two more again… Two more than yesterday.”

Laila muttered to herself as she climbed the mountain, intending to gather mushrooms. Her head, unusually stiff for someone scaling a steep trail, remained rigidly upright, and her gaze fixed stubbornly forward as though pulled by an invisible thread.

“Don’t look. Don’t look at them… Don’t look.”

Laila’s breath grew slightly ragged. As she grabbed a protruding tree branch and hauled herself upward, a group of children sitting huddled together on a nearby rock suddenly turned their heads in unison, following her movement.

The children, regardless of gender, wore plain clothes and ranged in age from toddlers who looked about four or five to mischievous preteens around twelve years old.

But there was one thing…

Where their eyes should have been was nothing at all. How to describe it? It was as though scooped out cleanly with a spoon—completely hollow. Yes, perfectly clean.

“Don’t stare at me.”

Laila thought desperately, feeling every hair on her body stand on end.

“You can’t see anything anyway, right? So don’t stare. Please, don’t stare at me.”

She clenched her neck muscles with all her might to avoid looking toward the children. By the time she finally reached the top of the steep path and stepped onto the relatively flat forest clearing, a sudden chill ran down her spine. Her fingers tightened around the basket.

Behind her trailed the ghost of a boy with no eyes.

This boy was one of the few children whose name Laila actually knew—Tommy, the eleven-year-old troublemaker of Rijicus, who always led a pack of kids as their self-appointed ringleader.

Laila took a sharp breath and began walking again with heavy steps. Instantly, the boy silently glided closer, matching her pace. Crouching under a tree as if to examine mushrooms, Laila gritted her teeth as she saw him now even nearer than when she first spotted him.

“Damn it… Did he latch onto me?”

She hadn’t looked, had she? Or maybe she had? Had she paid them too much attention? Why was he following her? Why!

“Stay calm.”

Laila slowly inhaled and quietly reassured herself. The translucent, gloomy gray boy stubbornly clung to the corner of her vision. Desperately resisting the urge to turn her head toward him, Laila pivoted her body away from him and started walking.

“I have to stay calm. Don’t panic.”

Her pace kept quickening. Yet every time she glanced sideways, the boy was still there—chasing her relentlessly, his face expressionless, his eyes cleanly missing as though someone had plucked out only the yolks from a boiled egg.

“Damn it! How far are you going to follow me?!”

Unable to endure it any longer, Laila suddenly shouted. At the same moment, she flung her basket aside and started running. The sound of her footsteps hitting the ground grew faster, and a hissing noise, like a snake, began echoing in her ears.

—Laila……

“Shut up, Tommy! Don’t call my name!”

Laila screamed. But the voice kept coming—unrelenting, even when she covered her ears. It echoed inside her head, inside her ears…

—Laila……

“Argh!”

Laila’s foot slipped on the damp leaf litter, and her body lurched backward. She kicked off her half-fallen shoe in frustration and barely managed to regain her balance. But as she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw two hollow sockets looming right before her eyes and gasped, biting her tongue in terror.

Trending

—Got you.

The boy—who, though he had no eyes to make eye contact with, somehow felt to Laila as if he were locking gazes—grinned broadly at her.

“…Go away, Tommy.”

Laila whispered through clenched teeth as she took a step backward. She wanted desperately to swing something, but her basket had long been discarded, leaving her hands empty. As she clenched her empty fists and shook her head, Tommy’s ghost drifted closer—still smiling, even more gleefully than before.

“Tommy, I told you to go away! Go play with your friends. Sit on that rock and enjoy the breeze, or just disappear somewhere! Damn it, Tommy!”

Please don’t come any closer.

Please.

Her lower lip began trembling, soon followed by her jaw. Her teeth chattered audibly, though Laila was so terrified she didn’t even realize the sound was coming from herself. The boy’s grin kept widening—as if his lips might stretch all the way down to his ears if he smiled any harder.

“Tommy!”

At that moment, something wriggled out from the empty sockets of the boy’s eyes.

What was that? A snake? A centipede? Or something else entirely? It coiled once around the ashen face of the boy and then shot straight toward Laila like an arrow.

“No!”

Laila screamed and reflexively raised both arms to shield her face. At that instant—

A grating, ear-splitting screech suddenly pierced the air, like metal scraping against stone. When Laila lowered her arms and looked ahead, her mouth fell open in shock at the unbelievable sight before her.

—Screee… Kk…!

Tommy—or rather, what had once been Tommy—was twisting grotesquely. His joints bent in impossible directions, and the long, thin thing that had emerged from his eyes writhed as though being seared by fire.

Laila stared, mesmerized by the horrifying sight. The boy’s body contorted further and began shrinking, now resembling lumpy plaster forced together by sheer will. A lump—what had once been his shoulder—swelled grotesquely before bursting with a loud “pop!”

“My god, what is…”

As Laila stumbled backward, her back bumped against something. Thinking it was a tree, she hastily turned her head upward—but it wasn’t a tree. Nor was it a ghost.

It was a stranger—a man. He was extremely tall, with long, nearly white hair tied back in a single ponytail. Most striking of all was the monocle he wore over his right eye.

“I’ve finally found you.”

The man spoke. At some point, his large hand had gently grasped Laila’s shoulder. As Laila stood dumbfounded, her lips quivering, the man tilted his head slightly downward and peered intently into her eyes.

“Yes… Just as I thought—you have eyes different from mine.”

In that instant, her mother’s voice—long faded and nearly forgotten—flickered through Laila’s mind.

—You have eyes different from mine.

Laila’s eyes blinked slowly. Her irises, red as pomegranate seeds, were studied by the man as if they were rare jewels. Then, abruptly, he spun her around.

Laila’s eyes widened in shock as she looked behind her.

Tommy was gone. In his place stood all twelve children who had been sitting on the rock.

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