The Forest Where Monsters Live - Chapter 1
1. Heavy Snowfall
"What now? Every place I’ve checked already has enough help."
The portly restaurant owner shook his head.
"Try the bakery down the street. I heard they were hiring."
"Thank you."
The woman bowed slightly before stepping back into the frigid air. But she had no intention of going to the bakery—she’d already been there. They, too, had turned her away.
"Haa…"
She exhaled sharply, watching her breath curl white in the air. Her hands, raw and red, trembled without gloves. The thin, threadbare dress she wore did nothing against the biting wind. Her cheeks stung, her skin numb beneath the tattered fabric.
"Huh—!"
She ducked her head as a pair of constables strode past, swords at their hips.
Even though they couldn’t possibly recognize her, fear coiled in her gut. She kept her face down until they disappeared around the corner.
This woman’s name was Leticia. Nineteen years old.
And a murderer.
Not for the first time.
She had killed before.
Leticia was born in the slums. A crescent-shaped scar marked her forehead—she didn’t remember how she got it. Her earliest memories began at six. Her mother claimed there had been an accident, but Leticia recalled nothing before that.
Her world had always been the slums. Her mother sold her body there, and Leticia grew up watching. The faces around her were always the same: opium addicts, drunks, and her mother’s clients.
The first time she killed, she was seventeen.
One of her mother’s drunken customers had tried to force himself on her. She fought back, grabbing a brick and smashing his skull. Blood pooled beneath him as he died. She ran that same night and never saw her mother again.
But running didn’t mean she had anywhere to go.
She drifted to another city, working in taverns, scraping by day to day. She wore rags, lived in filth—but she never sold herself. That was the lowest of the low.
The second time she killed, it was the tavern owner.
He had tried to sell her to a brothel.
She stabbed him, stole his money, and fled again.
This city wasn’t far from the last.
Hungry and desperate, she resorted to theft. Posing as a prostitute, she lured a man to an inn, planning to steal his wallet while he washed. But he returned too soon. Caught in the act, she shoved him in panic. His head struck the wall—he died instantly.
Now, she was here.
The money she’d stolen was gone, spent on last night’s lodging. She had nothing left.
If she didn’t find work today, she’d freeze to death in this cold.
If she couldn’t find work, the last resort was selling herself.
She’d rather die—but if the choice was between that and freezing, she had no options left.
"……"
Her fingers brushed the pendant around her neck.
She didn’t remember who gave it to her, but she knew it was precious. Her mother had tried to take it many times, but Leticia never let her. No matter how desperate she got, she never sold it.
But today, she might have to.
Silver. It would fetch a decent price.
Still, she’d save it for the very last moment.
What should I do…?
She stomped her frozen feet. She’d already tried every shop in the district. All of them turned her away.
Should I try further out?
Just as she stepped into the street—
"Ah—!"
A carriage rushed past, knocking her to the ground. She hadn’t been looking.
Dazed, she sat up, her entire body aching from the impact. Her nose stung, tears threatening to spill.
"Are you hurt?"
A gloved hand appeared in front of her.
"Huh?"
Startled, she looked up.
A man in a tailored frock coat stood over her, a cane in one hand, an elegant hat shading his face.
"Can you stand?"
"Y-Yes…"
She took his hand, wobbling as she rose. Her dress was now caked in mud.
"I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going—"
Her apology died in her throat as her eyes flicked over his clothes.
Rich.
She changed tactics instantly.
"Y-You tore my dress. And it’s filthy now. You owe me repair and cleaning fees."
The dress had already been torn. Already filthy.
She knew how rotten this was—but survival left no room for shame.
Besides, this man could afford it.
"My driver should have been more careful. My apologies." He reached for his wallet. "Will this suffice?"
But then his gaze caught on her pendant.
For a second, his eyes gleamed strangely.
He handed her a silver coin.
Leticia snatched it.
This would buy her a few nights’ lodging.
"Then do take care, miss."
She hurried off without another word, unaware of the man’s lingering stare.
With this, I can last a few more days… Maybe find work by then…
She clutched the coin, heading toward the inn. She was so cold. She wanted to thaw her frozen limbs in a warm room.
"Huh—!"
But before she reached it, she froze.
Constables stood outside the inn.
One of them looked at her—then at a paper in his hand.
Her stomach dropped.
That’s a sketch of me.
They were looking for her.
Run—!
She backpedaled.
The constables stepped forward.
"Ah—!"
She spun and bolted.
If they caught her, it was prison. Maybe forever. Maybe the gallows.
She couldn’t die like that.
"Stop!"
A whistle shrieked behind her as they gave chase.
No! I can’t get caught!
Just as she thought she was done for—a carriage pulled up in front of her.
"Get in!"
The door flew open. The same man from before reached for her.
She didn’t think.
She grabbed his hand and leapt inside.
The door slammed shut. Six horses surged forward, leaving the constables behind.
---
"Haah… haah…"
Leticia panted in the swaying carriage.
Are they still chasing me?
It had to be about the man she killed in the last town. But if they caught her, they’d uncover everything else too. She’d never leave prison.
She might hang.
She didn’t want to die like that.
Catching her breath, she studied her rescuer.
He smiled at her, his eyes warm.
Why did he help me?
He had to know she was running from the law. That meant she was a criminal.
So why?
"Um…"
She opened her mouth to make excuses—
"Do you have somewhere to go?"
"Huh?"
"If not, you could come with me."
"No, just drop me off—"
This man was strange.
Leticia wasn’t naive enough to trust kindness without motive. She knew how cruel the world was. Every man who’d ever smiled at her had wanted something.
This one was no different.
Why save a fugitive?
If she were stupider, she might’ve believed it was love at first sight.
But she knew better.
"Let me off here. Stop the carriage."
The constables wouldn’t have followed this far. She could escape.
"Here?"
The man smiled oddly, rapping his knuckles against the carriage wall. It slowed to a stop.
"Is this alright?"
He opened the door. Leticia scrambled out—
And froze.
Where… is this?
The carriage had entered a deep forest.
No roads. No landmarks. Just snow and trees.
She couldn’t walk through this blizzard. Not without light. Not without knowing the way.
"Are you sure about this?"
The man smirked from inside the carriage.
Leticia clenched her fists.
She hesitated.
She couldn’t stay in a stranger’s carriage. But she couldn’t wander this frozen forest either.
"A blizzard is coming."
She looked up.
The snowflakes were growing thicker. By midnight, the snow would reach her ankles. By morning, her knees. Maybe her waist.
She’d freeze to death.
"……"
She met the man’s gaze.
"Get in, miss."
He held the door open, beckoning.
Then added, softly:
"There are wolves in these woods."
As if to prove his point, a distant howl echoed through the trees.
Leticia stepped back into the carriage.
---
The carriage carried her deep into the forest, stopping at last before a towering stone manor. Ivy crawled up its walls, and dense firs encircled the grounds.
"Welcome to Hildesheim Manor, miss."
The man helped her down, his smile dazzling.
Hildesheim. An ancient estate in the heart of the woods.
Have I… been here before?
The thought unsettled her.
This was her first time in this city. This forest. This manor.
Yet something about it felt familiar.
Impossible.
"Is something wrong, miss?"
The man—no, the baron—watched her stare at the manor.
"Have you been here before?"
"No. This is my first time in this city."
She answered too quickly.
"Is that so? This is Hildesheim Manor. And I am its master—Baron Johann Hildesheim. You may call me Johann."
Johann.
Johann…
The name echoed in her mind.
Common name.
That’s all. It was a common name. That’s why it felt familiar.
She looked up at the manor again—and dizziness washed over her.
The pale stone walls soared, beautiful and dizzying.
---
"The blizzard grows worse."
When Johann entered, Leticia shot up from her seat by the fireplace.
He handed her a dress.
"My late mother’s. It should fit. Your current attire is… unsalvageable."
She clutched the fabric, hesitating.
"I’ll leave once the snow stops. Just until then."
"This snow won’t stop so easily…"
Johann’s smile was unreadable.
It unnerved her.
If worst comes to worst…
She knew how to defend herself.
Three lives already weighed on her soul. One more wouldn’t change her fate.
Hell awaited her either way.
"May I ask why you were being pursued?"
"I’d… rather not say."
"Your name?"
"Leticia."
"Leticia. And your surname?"
"I don’t have one."
"I see. Then, Miss Leticia, stay until the snow ceases. I’ll escort you out once it’s safe. Until then, this room is yours."
"Thank you…"
The words felt stiff on her tongue.
"Helping those in need is only natural. My parents taught me that."
Johann turned to leave.
At the door, he paused.
"The dining hall is downstairs. Help yourself to anything. Rest well."
The door clicked shut.
"Haa…"
Alone, Leticia approached the window.
The blizzard raged outside. Snow already piled high.
Even when it stopped, travel would be impossible. She’d be stuck here for days.
Maybe it’s for the best… By then, the constables might lose interest…
Her eyes scanned the room.
To her, it was luxurious. A fine bed. Antique furniture.
"Silver…"
The candlesticks were silver. The plates on the mantel were silver. Even the cutlery.
I could steal these. Sell them.
Disgust twisted in her gut at the thought.
When had she become like this?
A murderer. A thief.
Unable to trust kindness, always suspicious.
When she still lived with her mother, she’d studied. She refused to end up like her—selling herself in the slums. She saved every coin, dreaming of escaping to a better life.
Now look at her.
A monster.
Killing. Stealing.
"Snow…"
She watched it fall outside.
If only snow could cover her life too. Bury the filth beneath something pure.
Let her start anew.
But no such mercy existed.
---
Candle in hand, Johann climbed the stairs to the highest room.
Darkness swallowed the space.
At the desk, a man sat motionless, reading by a single flame.
"We have a guest, Benjamin."
No response.
"A special one."
Johann’s smile turned icy.
"Leticia is here."
The man’s shoulders tensed.
"Leticia. That little girl. I found her at last. And she came to me willingly. But the amusing part? She doesn’t remember. This manor. Or me."
"It might not be her."
The man’s voice was rough, like metal scraping stone.
"It’s her. I’d know that pendant anywhere."
"What are you planning?"
"What else? Collecting a debt."
"She didn’t do it."
"The sins of the mother fall upon the child."
Johann chuckled low.
The sound slithered through the dark.
"I’ll make sure she lives a life worse than death. Suffering. Begging for mercy."
"Johann."
"Stay out of it, Benjamin. This is my revenge."
The door shut behind him.
Left alone, Benjamin—the man at the desk—stared out the window.
Silent snow fell, relentless.
Enough to bury the world.
Enough to seal this manor away.
***
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