The banshee’s screams and cries of pain broke Everly’s heart. In comparison, the exorcist who had co to “save” her seed unforgivably cruel. Everly refused to give in. She opened her mouth and, using her tiny gums just beginning to sprout teeth, bit down on Wester’s hand with all her strength. But the exorcist’s skin was thick and tough, and she, toothless as she was, could not harm him.
The baby’s struggling and resistance were no more threatening than the hiss of a kitten in Wester’s eyes. His erald eyes scanned the restless infant from top to bottom with cold indifference. Adjusting his stance, he opened his hand like a trap and gripped Everly by the neck.
A baby’s neck bones are extrely fragile. Suspended in midair by Wester’s grip, Everly’s blood rushed to her head, and she struggled to breathe.
She hung limp like a dead dog, head drooping, limbs suspended, as Wester carried her before the banshee. Just as in the dream, a tense negotiation unfolded between the exorcist and the banshee. Pressured by Everly’s life, the banshee looked at the baby with reluctant affection, lowered her head, and ceased resisting, allowing Wester to raise his dagger and aim for her wide-open left eye.
“Eh…”
After the oil lamp went out, the chamber fell into darkness. Even with specialized training, the exorcist’s vision was sowhat limited. At first, he did not notice that the banshee’s left eye had been swapped. But as soon as the dagger pierced, he realized sothing was wrong—the eyeball bouncing on the floor seed less like it had been extracted and more like it had rolled out on its own after being levered by the dagger!
But there was no ti to investigate further. The banshee had not yet lost the ability to act, and with the hostage still in his hands, removing her other eye as soon as possible was the priority.
Thus, Wester only gave a casual glance to roughly note the landing spot of the “left eye,” then gripped the dagger and struck, extracting the banshee’s intact right eye from its socket.
The mont both eyes left her sockets, the banshee’s body turned gray-white, and within monts, she was completely petrified.
Seeing this, Wester loosened his grip on Everly slightly. He shifted the baby from being held by the neck to tucked under his arm. Bending down, he picked up the fallen right eye, examined it briefly, then threw it to the ground and crushed it with his foot.
Next, it was the banshee’s left eye. Wester went to the pile of rubble where the eye had fallen, struck a match, lit a cigarette, and, using the firelight and the faint glow of moss on the walls, began searching through the stones. All he found was a red glass bead—he never saw the banshee’s other eyeball.
Wester’s brow furrowed.
He was certain that the “left eye” had landed here. If he couldn’t find it, there was only one possibility: it wasn’t the real left eye… So where had the banshee hidden it?
Irritated, he drew a sharp puff from his cigarette, grabbed Everly by the back of her neck, glared at the baby for a mont with disdain, then stood and carried her out of the underground chamber to hand her over to the anxiously waiting Shelly outside. Afterwards, he borrowed a flashlight from Shelly and turned back toward the lower chamber.
“Where are you going? You’ve already found the child—shouldn’t you leave quickly?” Shelly asked.
“To retrieve the banshee’s left eye… She is already in a dormant state. If I don’t destroy this remaining eye imdiately, once the banshee regains enough power, she will inevitably awaken again,” the exorcist replied.
Shelly dared not oppose him: “She… she will awaken again…? Then, good luck. You must make sure to destroy this monster.”
After sending Wester away, he hugged his long-lost daughter and withdrew into a corner of the lighthouse to wait quietly. Because the surroundings were dim, Shelly didn’t notice that just as he bent down to grab a small blanket, Everly quickly lifted her little hand and slipped a round, red bead into her mouth—this was the only place on her body where she could hide sothing.
She had a feeling that if Wester couldn’t find the left eye, he might start suspecting her.
The banshee’s eyeball was only slightly larger than a grape, and if held in the mouth, it was virtually undetectable—but Everly didn’t dare take any chances. Nestled in Shelly’s arms, she tilted her head back and humd softly at him—a sound she often made when she was hungry. Hearing that familiar hum, Shelly’s heart, full of fatherly tenderness, nearly shattered.
“My poor Everly… you must have suffered so much at the hands of the banshee…”
He murmured to himself, rummaging through his luggage. Sure enough, he pulled out a bottle filled with powdered milk. Crying, he pressed the soft rubber nipple into Everly’s mouth.
Everly latched onto it and sucked twice with force. The cold milk, carrying the familiar scent of nourishnt, flowed down her throat. It was food of the human world—the kind she had always sought—but for so reason, Everly couldn’t help but long for the banshee’s foul, viscous milk from the sea.
Would the banshee still feel pain after turning into stone? If the remaining left eye wasn’t found, would Wester destroy her body…?
Everly didn’t dare think too much. She could only comfort herself: since Wester was clearly searching for the eye, it ant that to defeat the sea banshee, he must destroy her eyes. As long as she protected the banshee’s remaining left eye, there would co a day when the banshee could be revived… And then, she would take responsibility—carefully restraining the banshee and making sure she wouldn’t continue to eat humans.
After an agonizing wait of indeterminate length, heavy footsteps finally echoed through the passageway, and Wester’s shadow appeared at the exit. It looked as though he had erged from the water—Everly saw him completely drenched, his black hair plastered to his pale face like seaweed, making him resemble a water spirit crawling out of the sea.
“Did you find it?” Shelly, already yawning repeatedly, jumped to his feet at once when he saw Wester erge and hurried over to the exorcist.
“No,” Wester answered briefly. Then his eyes, sharp as blades, fixed directly on the baby in Shelly’s arms, still sucking on her bottle. “But there’s still one place I haven’t checked…”
“Where… you an on Everly?”
“Have you checked whether your daughter has an extra red eyeball sowhere on her body?”
“She was very hungry and started drinking milk as soon as we got back. I only glanced to see if she was hurt… I haven’t had a chance to check her clothes or anything…” Sweat beaded on Shelly’s forehead. At Wester’s signal, he reluctantly handed over the baby.
Wester took Everly in his hands. His cold, penetrating gaze swept over her as if it had physical weight. Worried about giving herself away, Everly dared not move. When the exorcist lifted her arm, she obediently raised it; when he pinched her leg, she clumsily kicked her little calves. From beginning to end, only her “hungry” act remained steadfast—her toothless gums clamped tightly around the pacifier, refusing to let go no matter what.
Fortunately, the exorcist didn’t suspect that a red eyeball was hidden beneath the pacifier. After checking every possible hiding place on the baby, including her clothes and pockets, Wester let out a long, unamused exhale and, with a grim expression, returned Everly to Shelly’s arms.
“A miscalculation… take her and leave imdiately.”
“The banshee’s left eyeball is missing. If her eye isn’t destroyed, she will only fall into a temporary sleep. No one knows how long this… this kind of sleep lasts—one day or one year. To ensure the baby’s safety, we must leave at once and go sowhere far from the sea… the farther, the better.”
Unexpectedly, Shelly—usually timid as a mouse—showed hesitation in the face of Wester’s urgency.
“You said earlier that the banshee had already fallen asleep, right?” he asked.
Wester nodded. “Yes, but just like human sleep, this state can end at any ti—once her body accumulates enough energy, sleeps long enough, or is disturbed by outside forces… no one knows what might wake her or when. The threat of Lamia still hangs over us. Therefore, my recomndation is to leave imdiately.”
“Can I… take a look?” Shelly asked after a brief pause, speaking in a way that startled even Wester.
Even the well-experienced exorcist couldn’t hide his surprise. “What did you just say?”
“She just fell asleep. There’s no reason for her to wake up now… I, I just want to see what the legendary banshee looks like when she’s asleep,” Shelly stamred, his sunken, fatigue-lined eyes betraying a strong curiosity.
“…” The exorcist fixed the man with a stern gaze. Only when Shelly shrank back, ek and submissive again, did Wester drop the burning cigarette butt he had been holding and stomp heavily, saying, “Seeing as your paynt is generous enough… just this once, follow .”
“All right!”
Shelly replied cheerfully, holding Everly and following along with delight.
Wester held the flashlight aloft, leading Shelly through the secret passage and back into the pitch-dark underground chamber.
Under the beam of light, Everly saw a gray-white humanoid statue standing quietly in the center of the room, surrounded by scattered stones and bones. The statue’s upper body was entirely human, but its lower half was a thick, powerful serpent tail, brimming with raw strength. It maintained the pose from its living days—body pressed down, neck stretched back, face turned upward. Its eye sockets were empty, mouth slightly open, as if screaming, yet sohow also as if trying to convey sothing.
Strangely, despite the fearso and grotesque visage, anyone seeing the statue at first glance felt a profound sense of maternal love and selfless sacrifice. A sacred divinity seed to envelop the monstrous form, making it simultaneously ugly and beautiful, contradictory yet harmonious, impossible to look away from.
“This… this is… so beautiful!” Shelly’s voice trembled as he spoke, pulling Everly’s attention away from the statue. She looked up and saw her father staring directly at the banshee’s statue, his blue eyes sparkling with wonder, pale cheeks flushed with excitent.
“So beautiful… this is what art is truly ant to be…” His gaze went blank, his expression rapt. srized, he took two steps forward and reached out, as if to touch the statue.
“What are you doing!” Wester barked sharply, swinging Shelly away with one hand. His powerful arms pinned him and dragged him to a corner far from the statue. “The banshee is only asleep, not dead! Do you want to wake her and have all of us die with you?!”
“S-sorry! I just—” Shelly hadn’t finished speaking when Wester interrupted him coldly:
“Here’s a piece of advice—don’t beco too obsessed with supernatural beings. That’s not a realm humans are ant to enter. Once you cross that line, delve too deeply into their world… it will be too late to regret it. Do you understand?”
By the last sentence, his voice dropped sharply, harsh and nacing. It sounded less like a warning and more like a threat. Even his handso face—the one that made countless won swoon—montarily hardened into sothing ruthless.
Intimidated by the exorcist’s rare display of ferocity, Shelly went pale and nodded repeatedly. He carefully put aside the overflowing romantic fascination he could find no outlet for, trembling as he followed Wester step by step, leaving the dark, mysterious chamber as if fleeing.
Back on the surface, to prevent further complications, Wester told Shelly to quickly pack his things. He himself went to the chanisms beneath the lighthouse and restored the secret passage. Once everything was done, Wester took Shelly and Everly aboard a yacht. Cutting through waves at breakneck speed, they raced back to shore as fast as possible.
Only when his feet touched solid ground did the exorcist allow his tense body a mont of relaxation.
Wester’s work was never done, but rescuing Everly marked the end of this mission. After collecting the final paynt from Shelly, he pulled the flustered father away to a quiet corner and gave his final instructions:
“…As I’ve said before, the banshee from the sea is only asleep and could wake at any mont. Your daughter was taken by her and even raised as if she were her own child. This ans a connection has already ford between your daughter and the banshee. Once Lamia awakens, she will imdiately seek your daughter. If you don’t want Everly to be taken again, you’d better move her sowhere else to live before she turns seven.”
“Where should we move? Do you have any recomndations?” Shelly asked.
“The ocean is Lamia’s domain. She can move freely wherever the sea flows… Take Everly inland. Avoid all rivers that feed into the sea and find a dry region far from both ocean and rivers to raise your daughter. Lamia’s target is children under seven—if Everly can safely reach her seventh birthday, you’ll be free.”
“A dry place… I understand. Thank you for your advice.” Shelly’s face showed a thoughtful expression as he absorbed Wester’s words.
After sending the exorcist off, he didn’t rush back. Instead, he lingered by the rocks at the dock, holding the drowsy Everly in his arms, sotis sitting, sotis standing, pacing back and forth for a long ti. His eyes alternated between staring blankly toward the lighthouse and glancing at the baby in his arms with utter tornt. His expression was sorrowful, conflicted, and agonized—the sa as the tornted, lovesick scholars described in so old novels. Everly watched, her tiny teeth aching at the sight.
Oh—her teeth aren’t fully in yet… then it must be her gums hurting!
Worried that the eyeball in her mouth might be discovered, Everly didn’t dare sleep. She had to keep her eyes open and watch her careless father perform this spectacle—from sunrise until the sun hung high in the sky. Finally, near alti, hunger got the better of him. He pulled out his phone, gathered his courage, and dialed a number.
“Hello… D-Dad? It’s … Yes, Everly has been rescued. She’s unhard, just a little hungry. But there’s a problem: the banshee wasn’t destroyed. The exorcist said that to prevent Everly from being taken again, it’s best to move inland… Could you take her to live in Dwight State?”
Old John’s ho was in eastern Dwight State, surrounded by rocky mountains, gobi, and desert—a perfect match for the living environnt Wester had recomnded.
“… take Everly to Dwight State? What about you? As her father, aren’t you coming too?” The voice on the other end quickly caught on to the oddness in the young man’s hesitant words and issued a stern question.
Everly perked up her ears to listen. The voice on the phone was deep and resonant, easily recognizable. Her mory was sharp, and she quickly realized it was her maternal grandfather, John Breton—the sa white-haired man who had cared for her when she was sick with a fever, tornted by the nurse’s vengeful spirit.
Shelly couldn’t lie. Faced with Old John’s interrogation, he sheepishly explained that the mist covering the town and the tragic tales of the banshee had inspired him. He planned to stay in Pukati a while longer to finish his new painting.
“…After all these years, I’ve never had such overflowing inspiration! My creative desire drives , urging to pick up the brush and capture everything here on paper… I have a feeling this will be the most perfect painting I’ve ever made. It’s going to sell like crazy! Dad, once I beco famous, I’ll be able to take Everly to a big house and give her a better life…”
He clutched the phone, mumbling obsessively about art and fa, lost in a manic excitent, as if the life he imagined was already within reach.
On the other end, the old man roared in anger: “Shelly Minass! Where are you right now? I’m giving you half an hour! Get your ass back to Pukati imdiately! Right now!!!”
Shelly’s enraptured expression froze.
He hung up the phone and, like a restless ghost, took Everly and got into the rented car, racing back to Pukati. As they approached their ho, they saw a strange car parked near the gate of a nearby villa. Next to it stood a tall, broad-shouldered white-haired man, bending slightly to speak with the landlady, Mrs. Christina.
The old man looked travel-worn, still carrying a black suitcase. Upon closer inspection, it was clear—who else could it be but John from Dwight State?!
—Old John had actually crossed most of the United States, traveling all the way from Dwight State to Yalijifu State on the East Coast!
“Da-Dad…”
“Bang!”
Shelly was t with a solid punch from Old John.
What followed was complete chaos. John had only co because he was worried after hearing that his granddaughter had been taken by the banshee. He never expected to stumble upon Shelly abandoning his daughter in the na of “art”!
The bla for Everly being abducted already rested mostly on Shelly. Now, this irresponsible man had the audacity to leave his tiny daughter to others. Old John’s old and new grievances surged, and there was no way he would let Shelly off easily!
Despite his age, Old John was incredibly strong, and weak-willed Shelly was no match for him.
After giving his feeble son-in-law a thorough beating, and with the landlady’s gentle intervention, Old John finally cald down.
Leaving the beaten Shelly behind, he turned his gaze to the little baby in the crib. Everly, anwhile, had quietly taken the banshee’s eyeball out of her mouth and tucked it into her favorite plush toy—a crocodile-shaped stuffed animal. Its belly had a small bib with a zippered opening, just the right size to hold the little red bead. Seeing her grandfather looking at her, she held the toy tightly and flashed him an innocent, wide smile.
Abandoned by her father? That’s actually fine. Although Shelly had cared for her for six months, barely enough to count as so attachnt, he was truly not a good father. She was still too young—she needed an adult to look after her. Shelly was clearly not cut out for raising a child. If her guardian could be changed to her grandfather, it felt like her future would be a lot brighter…
Seeing his granddaughter’s smile, Old John’s face softened, and the fierce aura surrounding him imdiately receded.
“I will take Everly with …” His voice lowered, gentle now, as he stepped forward and lightly stroked Everly’s cheek with his rough fingers. Deep mories flickered in his dark brown eyes. “She is Rachel’s only bloodline. Even if you didn’t say anything, I would still do everything I can to raise her… But, Shelly, I’m warning you: don’t show up in front of unless absolutely necessary. Otherwise, don’t bla if my shotgun isn’t polite!”
“…” Faced with his father-in-law’s threat, Shelly gritted his teeth and endured it, not daring to make a single sound.
He knew that as a retired police officer, Old John truly had the guts to carry out such a threat.
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