Twenty years had passed since that tragic event.
The Stag-Headed Witch lived alone deep within the forest. He—by some strange reason—had retained his consciousness.
Unlike most Witches, who had lost their minds, their feelings, and their human forms, he was different. He did not grow stronger by devouring human flesh like the others.
Instead, he had carved a vow into his heart—to never again consume the flesh of men. Though the hunger clawed at him, and the scent of humans tormented his senses like fire to dry leaves, he held fast to that oath he had etched within.
Until, one day, the Stag-Headed Witch encountered Him.
"Do you wish to become human again?"
His voice was gentle, youthful even. But that only made the Stag-Headed Witch tremble, cold sweat drenching his fur. If this man had commanded him to take his own heart, he would have obeyed without question, consumed by fear.
But the man did not ask for that.
"There is someone nearby—in this forest—whom I want you to kill."
"Anything… for… my… lord…"
The Stag-Headed Witch prostrated himself deeply in terror. He could sense that if he make him anger, his heart would be ripped from his chest in the blink of an eye.
An invisible, dreadful aura bore down on him—unseen by worldly eyes—and for the first time, the Stag-Headed Witch felt a fear unlike anything he had ever known.
"He is a young man… with green eyes. I want you to kill him for me."
"Yes… A-after that… w-will I… b-become human… again…?"
He, the white-haired man whose face remained hidden, gave a faint smile.
"Do as I command."
"Y-yes, master!"
***
January 26, 2023
The morning sun from the east rose gently, and a crow pecked at the dry burn wounds along Sizhu's skin.
The ground beneath him was damp. Mist lingered around his knees. The sky was a clear, flawless blue—without even a single trace of cloud. A view that had become familiar to Sizhu each time he opened his eyes.
"Urgh…" he groaned as he tried to sit up. The right side of his body was scorched, and a long gash marred his ribs.
The crow flapped away upon realizing its morning snack had awakened. Its companions continued to peck at the scattered remains—stag skulls and fleshy bones hanging from branches or strewn across dew-kissed grass.
"What… dream was that last night?"
Looking around, Sizhu realized—it wasn't a dream.
"It felt like… I was seeing the memories of that Stag Head Witch."
Wincing, he forced himself to his feet and stared quietly at the skull surrounded by crows.
"I've never met anyone besides my master… not since I was little. I never knew how cruel… how merciless the world could be out there. He… he was just a father—unlucky father."
Sizhu stepped toward a patch of wildflowers splattered with blood from the previous night. He picked one, and approached the stag's skull.
The crows flew off as he neared, unsettled by his presence.
He placed the flower atop the skull. His face showed no expression—just like when he buried his master not long ago.
"Since meeting my master… I was trained—harshly—to control my emotions. So much so that I forgot—no, I never even knew how to feel sadness, or joy, or anger."
"I'm sorry… for killing you. You were a good Witch… Jin."
That morning, every living creature around the forest clearing turned their eyes to Sizhu as he stood silently after placing the flower. The crows. The caterpillars on the leaves. Even a wild cat in the bushes watched him.
His fist clenched tightly, full of resolve.
"This might not be my business… But if I ever meet another Witch like you, I'll make sure their end is peaceful. Farewell."
***
"Still… who was that man in the Witch's memory? He wanted the Witch to find me. How strange."
Sizhu made his way back to what remained of his home. It had burned down and merged with the earth. Only blackened wood and ash lay where it once stood.
He let out a long, weary sigh.
"My clothes are half-burned. My master's will… and his staff too… The will!"
He suddenly remembered. He frantically searched the ruins, digging through soot and blackened timber.
After nearly an hour of digging, he uncovered only a scorched scrap of parchment—and a long wooden staff, carved with the word 'Promise' near its tip. It was his master's staff.
"Phew… at least part of his will survived. I can't imagine what Master would say if he saw it burnt like this. He's probably scolding me from above right now."
Sizhu shook his head, imagining his master's wrath raining down from the heavens for this failure.
Leaning on the staff, he read the remaining piece of paper. Half-burnt, yet still legible:
"...Qincheng. Go there. I have a friend who will watch over you and reveal the true legacy of my vow."
Qincheng? Where is that?
Sizhu wondered silently, confused.
He had lived in this forest for ten years, never meeting another human—except for his master—even after trying to escape. He once followed the river until it led to a lake.
He had even climbed the highest mountain nearby. From the peak, all he saw was an endless expanse of thick forest—bamboo groves and pine trees in every direction.
But then… he saw a river. A massive one. Unlike the small streams he was used to. It was so wide, it would take half a day walking straight to reach the other side.
A blackbird chirped softly, having plucked a seed from its favorite fruit. Its mate joined it on the branch, sharing the prize lovingly.
"Birds fly as far as their wings can carry them. And only then do they find others like them."
Sizhu watched them with gentle eyes.
"Perhaps me too, must walk—until I meet someone who can tell me where this place called Qincheng lies."
Before leaving, he knelt one last time before his master's grave. He fixed the white chrysanthemum that had fallen onto the ground and placed it neatly atop the tomb.
Clapping his hands together in prayer, he whispered with quiet resolve:
"I'm leaving, Master. May you rest in peace above."
Then he stood. Struck the ground once with the wooden staff in his left hand. The parchment scrap gripped tightly in his right.
And he took his first step forward—
A step into a journey shaped by memories.
A journey to fulfill the promise he had once fail to keep.
***