Steps in the Darkness

---Episode 3

The last torch in the distance began to fade as the villagers returned to the village one by one. The night wind carried the scent of damp earth and wet leaves, wrapping the riverbank in silence. The gentle sound of flowing water grew clearer, as if affirming that the night was growing late.

Muyeon remained standing in place, his eyes still fixed on the dark silhouette of the Nameless Forest towering before him. There was no hesitation left. He had made his decision.

Beside him, Baekgu stood still. But Muyeon knew—his companion sensed something. His tail was raised slightly higher than usual, his posture firm, and his gaze locked straight into the forest. Baekgu was not a dog that got restless easily, yet Muyeon could feel something in the way he stood. It wasn’t fear, nor was it mere caution. It was acknowledgment—that something was there.

Without wasting time, Muyeon turned and entered his small hut. His steps were steady, as if his entire being already knew what needed to be done.

In the corner of the room, among a few simple belongings, leaned an old sword in a worn leather scabbard.

His hand reached for it without hesitation. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, it felt as if the sword had always been waiting for him—like a part of himself finally awakening.

This sword was not something passed down or gifted to him. He had found it years ago, wedged between the rocks by the riverbank. Back then, its blade had been covered in mud and was beginning to rust. Yet even in its poor condition, there was something about it that made it impossible to ignore. He had kept it, cared for it little by little—replacing its hilt, sharpening its blade—until now, the sword was fully his.

Without hesitation, he secured it onto his back in a single, practiced motion.

Baekgu wagged his tail slightly, then stepped forward toward the hut’s entrance, as if waiting for a command.

Muyeon took a deep breath, then walked outside. He did not look back.

Without hesitation, he stepped into the darkness of the Nameless Forest. The veiled moonlight bore witness—that tonight, something would change.

Muyeon and Baekgu’s footsteps were silent on the damp earth. The air inside the forest felt different—colder, heavier. Towering trees stretched high, their branches intertwining, forming a canopy that swallowed the moonlight. In this darkness, only the faint glimmers on the leaves occasionally shone as the wind brushed past.

The entrance to the forest still bore traces of many footprints, but no voices or torchlight remained. The villagers’ search had ended some time ago. Tonight, only Muyeon and Baekgu pressed forward.

In the past, he could have chosen to turn back before venturing too deep. But tonight, he had already decided to press on.

The wind whispered through the leaves, creating soft murmurs. Occasionally, sounds emerged from the trees—perhaps from a bird or something else. Yet most of them chose to remain silent.

Baekgu walked beside Muyeon, his steps steady, but there was something different in his movements. He wasn’t merely following—he was truly leading the way. His ears twitched, his head occasionally tilting slightly toward a direction, as if hearing something from the darkness between the trees.

Muyeon glanced at him. Baekgu rarely reacted without reason. If he moved like this, it meant something was nearby.

Muyeon slowed his pace, observing the ground around him. Faint footprints were visible in some spots, but it was difficult to tell whether they belonged to a human or an animal.

Suddenly, Baekgu stopped. His head lowered slightly, nose sniffing the ground. A moment later, he shifted toward the nearby bushes, his tail tensed.

Muyeon followed.

On the ground, among the fallen leaves, something caught his attention—a single dried leaf with a faint stain on it.

Muyeon crouched, his fingers brushing against the earth nearby. The mark was already fading, but it was still there.

Blood.

Not in large amounts, but enough to make him certain.

Baekgu remained in place, his gaze still locked onto the bushes.

Muyeon’s mind began piecing things together. If this was blood, and it had dried like this, then it had likely been here for a few days.

And if it belonged to Park Jungsoo…

Muyeon stood, looking deeper into the darkness of the forest.

Something had happened here.

And he had just found the first trace.

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The Disappearance in the Deep Woods

Muyeon and Baekgu had just entered the village after returning from the river. At the time they enter the village, the atmosphere felt different. In the middle of the road, the villagers had gathered in a small circle, their voices low and filled with anxiety. Some spoke quickly, while others whispered to one another, as if waiting for something.

Muyeon stepped closer, his eyes scanning the familiar faces in the crowd. He could sense the unease lingering—something more than just an ordinary discussion. As he walked forward, their voices became clearer—some filled with worry, others sounding urgent.

Muyeon continued moving, now close enough to see their expressions more clearly. Some people whispered among themselves, while others remained silent, their faces tense. That was when a deep voice broke through the murmurs of anxiety.

"Park Jungsoo hasn’t returned for a few days."

It was Kim Dongsu, the village chief—a middle-aged man who was usually firm and authoritative. But this time, the lines on his face were deeper, weighed down by concern.

"He went hunting in the forest, but after 3 days, there was still no sign of him returning."

Kim Dongsu took a deep breath, scanning the faces around him.

"It’s been too long..."

A woman in the crowd spoke up, her voice filled with worry.

"We're afraid something has happened. That forest has been getting more dangerous lately."

She was Choi Misun, a middle-aged woman who often helped process the village’s hunted game. She knew Park Jungsoo’s family well, and her concern was evident on her face.

"He should have been back in two days... This isn’t like him."

Park Jungsoo was not a stranger to Muyeon. He was a quiet man who lived by hunting, working hard to provide for his family. The forest had been a part of his life for years—a place where he hunted and made a living. But this time, more than two night had passed since he left, and there was still no sign of him. Something felt off.

Muyeon listened intently, his eyes shifting to the faces around him. Some of the men seemed prepared to search the forest, but others hesitated, wary of the dangers that might be lurking inside.

The villagers were no strangers to the forest surrounding them. Some were hunters like Park Jungsoo, relying on it for food. The rest were farmers, depending on the fields around the village for their livelihood.

However, despite the presence of many hunters, they only ventured into the outer edges of the forest—the parts they could still recognize and navigate. But going any deeper... no one had ever dared. The trees grew denser, the mist obscured vision, and the threat of wild beasts made the deeper forest a place to be avoided. Moreover, for generations, their ancestors had warned of hidden dangers lurking within. Various stories about the Nameless Forest had been passed down through time, turning it into a legend that kept them from wandering too far.

As the conversation continued, Muyeon's gaze slowly shifted to two figures standing near Kim Dongsu. Han Yujin, Park Jungsoo’s wife, and their daughter, Park Jiwon, stood pale-faced, their eyes swollen. Jiwon clung tightly to her mother’s hand, her body trembling slightly, as if struggling to hold back a sorrow she couldn’t hide.

Han Yujin and Jiwon were not strangers to him. Yujin often greeted him and offered him food, and Jiwon was a little girl who frequently approached him, talking to him as if they were friends. Seeing them in this state made Muyeon pause for a moment. He wasn’t used to seeing Han Yujin, who was normally strong, looking so fragile—or Jiwon, who was always cheerful, now standing still in sorrow.

Muyeon remained silent, listening intently to every word spoken. The villagers were still conversing among themselves—some insisting on an immediate search, while others hesitated.

The village chief, Kim Dongsu, finally took a deep breath before speaking in a firm tone,

"We can't just stand by. Park Jungsoo might be in danger, and if we wait any longer, things could get worse."

A few men among the villagers nodded in agreement, though tension was clearly visible on their faces. A middle-aged man with a slightly thin build stepped forward. Doubt was written all over his face, yet his voice remained steady as he said,

"But it's too risky. We all know the boundaries of the forest that we shouldn't cross."

The man was Yoo Sangho, a farmer who had lived in the village for many years. Though not a hunter, he was well-acquainted with the forest and the stories passed down by their ancestors. Like many others in the village, he understood how dangerous it was to venture too deep into the nameless forest.

"We’ll only search around the usual hunting trails." Kim Dongsu replied.

"We must remain cautious, but we can't ignore someone who has disappeared into the forest."

Han Yujin tightened her grip on Jiwon's hand. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but she simply lowered her head.

Muyeon continued listening, his eyes observing the people around him. The decision had been made, and the search would soon begin.

Kim Dongsu let out a long sigh before addressing the gathered villagers.

"We will begin the search."

Several grown men and young villagers immediately stepped forward, among them a few seasoned hunters. They appeared ready, carrying torches, knives, and other hunting tools. Kim Dongsu pointed at some of them before continuing,

"We can't move recklessly—the sky will be dark soon. One group will search along the usual hunting path that Park Jungsoo used. The other will check near the spring at the forest’s edge."

Those not involved in the search remained in the village, keeping watch and ensuring its safety. Some women began praying in silence, while the children could only watch anxiously, their faces filled with confusion.

Muyeon stood still, watching as Kim Dongsu organized the search. He had no reason to get involved, so he simply observed—until his gaze fell upon Jiwon.

At that moment, Jiwon lifted her head, and their eyes met.

"...."

It lasted only a second, but Muyeon saw sadness and helplessness in Jiwon’s expression. Her eyes, usually full of light and warmth, now looked weary, missing the spark of joy that always shone whenever she spoke to him.

Muyeon fell silent, as if caught in a struggle with his own thoughts. Without realizing it, he tightened his grip on Baekgu’s leash, as if carefully weighing something in his mind.

As the search party began moving toward the forest, the remaining villagers slowly dispersed. Some returned to their homes, while others stood watching the searchers, their eyes filled with hope and worry.

Yujin and Jiwon also started walking home. Yujin's face remained pale, but her steps were steady as she tried to suppress the unease that was evident in her expression. Jiwon clutched her mother’s hand tightly, her steps sluggish, her eyes red and swollen.

A few village women accompanied them, speaking softly in an attempt to comfort the mother and daughter. Occasionally, Yujin would nod slightly, but her gaze remained distant.

Muyeon let out a quiet sigh. The village fell into silence once more, with only a few villagers murmuring to each other before finally retreating to their homes.

Without saying a word, Muyeon turned and walked away. He left the crowd behind, heading toward the small hut near the river where he lived. His steps were calm, but his mind was still occupied by everything that had just happened.

Baekgu walked beside him, occasionally glancing up at Muyeon as if he could sense his thoughts.

The sun had disappeared, replaced by the glow of the moon. The sounds of nocturnal creatures echoed from all directions, marking the arrival of night. A gentle breeze swept through the air, carrying the soft murmur of the flowing river, growing clearer with each step Muyeon took.

Upon reaching his hut, Muyeon paused at the entrance. He gazed at the river flowing gently, its surface shimmering under the moonlight.

Usually, moments like this brought him peace—but tonight, the events that had unfolded still lingered in his mind, unsettling his thoughts. Muyeon sat on a rock by the river, gazing at the shimmering surface under the moonlight. His fingers brushed against his chin slowly, his mind spinning in circles.

He let out a deep sigh before glancing to the side, toward Baekgu, who sat quietly on the ground, his ears twitching slightly with the passing breeze.

"Baekgu."

"Is there really nothing we can do?"

Muyeon was asking more to himself than expecting an actual answer.

He fell silent for a moment, his gaze drifting back to the river.

"I don't even know if we can..." 

His voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in. 

"The forest is too vast, and deep inside..."

His fingers tightened around his knees, his body trembling slightly—as if recalling something eerie that sent a chill down his spine.

Once again, Muyeon remained silent, his gaze fixed on the rippling water. Beside him, Baekgu flicked his ears before standing up and wagging his tail slightly.

The dog looked at Muyeon with an expression that was hard to describe. As if he understood his master's unease, as if he was waiting for a decision.

Muyeon sighed, reaching out and gently stroking Baekgu’s head.

"Do you think we should go?"

Baekgu didn’t bark—he only stared at him with eyes full of certainty.

Muyeon narrowed his eyes, looking into the distance. The wind blew softly, carrying the rustling whispers of the forest as if calling out to them.

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Seo Muyeon: The Journey Begins

The morning mist gently wrapped around the mountains, flowing slowly between the trees. The small village at the foot of the mountain remained asleep in silence, accompanied only by the songs of birds welcoming the dawn. The sun gradually emerged from behind the thin clouds, its warm rays touching the rooftops and the fields still blanketed in dew.

Not far from the village, by the edge of a crystal-clear river, a boy crouched patiently. His slightly unkempt black hair fell over his forehead, yet his face remained calm. His sharp brown eyes reflected the keen focus of a hunter, unblinking as he observed the water’s surface. His clothes were simple—faded and worn from years of use without proper care. A tattered bandage wrapped around his wrist, a silent testament to the small wounds he had endured in his harsh life.

Hardship had shaped him long before he could even remember who he was. He did not know where he came from or who had given him his name. But he knew one thing—his name was Seo Muyeon.

Since childhood, the river had been his home, the forest his yard, and the sky his only roof. He did not know his parents, had no idea who they were or why they had left him. But he had learned that life was not about where one came from—it was about survival.

Beside him, a golden-brown dog sat quietly. The dog, whom he called Baekgu, was the only family he had in this world. Since they were little, it had always been just the two of them. When they were hungry, they shared what little food they had. On cold nights, they shared warmth. There was no one else—only Muyeon and Baekgu.

A medium-sized fish darted swiftly beneath the water’s surface, its body glimmering in the morning light. With a swift, practiced motion, Muyeon struck, snatching it before it could escape. The fish thrashed wildly, its scales shimmering, but his grip was too strong to break free.

Muyeon sat atop a large rock—the one he often used as a makeshift table to prepare his meals. He examined the fish, then skillfully began cleaning it, scaling and gutting it with precision. Baekgu sat beside him, his tail swaying slowly, his gaze locked onto the fish with quiet anticipation.

Muyeon chuckled, amused by his friend’s hopeful expression.

“Wait, Baekgu… just a little longer,” he murmured, tending to the fish as it cooked.

Baekgu remained still, his eyes fixed on the meal. His tail wagged faster, betraying his growing impatience.

As the fish cooked, the delicious aroma began to spread. Even though they often ate like this, it always tasted the same—simple, yet enough. Muyeon carefully tore a portion and handed it to Baekgu. The dog eagerly devoured it, his tail wagging in delight. Once Baekgu was satisfied, Muyeon quietly ate the rest.

After finishing his meal, Muyeon tossed the fish bones into the river, letting the current carry them away. He glanced at Baekgu, who now sat contentedly beside him, full and satisfied. Loosening the bandage on his wrist, Muyeon flexed his fingers, testing the hand that had been injured some time ago.

The morning sunlight warmed his skin, casting a soft glow around him. Golden beams filtered through the trees, creating dancing patterns of light on the forest floor. Yet, despite the tranquil beauty of the forest, Muyeon knew that such peace was often deceptive. In the depths of every shadow, danger could always be lurking.

But he pushed the thought away, letting the stillness of the moment settle within him. Taking a deep breath, Muyeon rose to his feet, glancing at Baekgu, who looked just as ready as he was.

The sun climbed higher, and the stillness of the morning began to shift, signaling the start of another day. Baekgu walked beside him, as if ready to embrace the adventure that awaited them.

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