The Gravedigger’s Secret and a Desperate Wager

The wooden hut’s door was secured with a rusty lock, suggesting the old gravedigger was out. As Arthur Haim lingered outside, pacing back and forth, a sharp cry suddenly pierced the air.

“What are you two doing here!”

Arthur Haim paused, turning his sightless gaze toward the old man emerging from the direction of the graveyard. The man’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, his pale hair falling haphazardly over his shoulders, unkempt for a considerable time.

His clothes bore countless patches, and in his hand, he clutched an old lantern. His cloudy, aged eyes fixed warily on the two unexpected visitors.

Arthur Haim offered a gentle smile. “Uncle Chris, I am a Holy Knight from the Holy Church. This person beside me is Helen Sibeka, the Bishop of the local church. We’ve come tonight to ask you a few questions.”

Uncle Chris frowned, his eyes scrutinizing the two figures before him with suspicion. His gaze lingered on Arthur Haim for a moment, then shifted to Helen Sibeka, clad in the Holy Church’s white robes. Slowly, the wariness in his eyes began to recede.

He shuffled towards the wooden hut’s door, produced a key, and unlocked it. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.

“I have no tea,” he said as he entered. “Will plain cold water suffice?”

Arthur Haim followed him in, a warm smile gracing his lips. “That would be more than enough.”

Arthur sensed the hut’s interior was remarkably simple and unadorned, filled only with common household items.

‘That’s…’

Arthur Haim’s perception caught the presence of an old wooden sword and a patched red cloth horse tucked away in a corner. A light chuckle escaped him. “So it’s this.”

Uncle Chris followed his “gaze,” a hint of nostalgia entering his eyes. His voice was hoarse. “They’re just childhood toys, my Lord Knight. I doubt they’d interest you.”

“How could you say that? Before I became a knight, I, too, played games of knights, just like you. I remember back then… Helen, you even fought with me over who got to be the knight, didn’t you?”

Helen Sibeka’s icy gaze swept over Arthur Haim. “Are you referring to the time I beat you until you cried?”

Arthur Haim lowered his head, a soft sigh escaping him. “Yes, it truly hurt that day. That day was probably the second hardest I’ve ever cried in my life.”

He fell silent for a moment, taking several breaths to compose himself. Then, he turned back toward Uncle Chris, his voice gentle once more. “Uncle Chris, didn’t you once say that fairy tales are all lies? I wish to understand what you truly meant by that.”

Uncle Chris’s pupils sharply contracted. He stared intently at Arthur Haim, his voice deepening. “You—you’ve encountered It? How did you manage that? It has always hidden itself so well.”

Observing Uncle Chris’s reaction, Helen Sibeka’s expression subtly shifted. Her hand slowly moved to the hilt of the sword hanging at her waist, and she remained silently in place.

Arthur Haim offered a faint smile. “I utilized someone else’s power. Could you elaborate? What exactly is It?”

Uncle Chris silently took a seat, then slowly began to speak. “It is the original source of all fairy tales. Like other Heretics, It also seeks humanity that does not belong to It. That is… the dreams of children.”

Helen Sibeka furrowed her brows. “The dreams of children? Is the world It inhabits a dream world? Like Utopia?”

Uncle Chris nodded, continuing, “All the children within this city-state are Its targets. The chosen children’s consciousnesses are drawn into Its world. That world is a collection of all fairy tales. Initially, it feels beautiful and blissful. But the longer one stays there, the harder it becomes to escape, and the more one perceives the deep-seated malice hidden within that world. That is how It, step by step, lures children into the abyss of despair.”

Helen Sibeka regarded Uncle Chris, who now showed a hint of fear. “Most of the children who have gone missing or died in this city-state were Its doing?”

Uncle Chris nodded. “Children who cannot escape that world manifest as death in the real world. As for the missing children, they were devoured by the wolves and became part of the fairy tale.”

Arthur Haim’s expression flickered. “You’re referring to the [Wolf in the Woods], aren’t you?”

Helen Sibeka looked at Arthur Haim with a startled expression. As a member of the Holy Church, she knew that the A-rank Heretic, the [Wolf in the Woods], had long been confined in the Heretic Containment Facility.

Yet, what Arthur Haim implied… the [Wolf in the Woods] was not an individual Heretic, but a Heretic creation? In that case, the unknown Heretic lurking in this city-state must be SSS-rank!

Uncle Chris nodded, his voice low. “Occasionally, some children devoured by the wolves manage to escape.”

Helen Sibeka narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Uncle Chris. “Are you one of them?”

Uncle Chris raised his head, meeting Helen Sibeka’s gaze. His voice was raspy. “I am merely a coward who abandoned my companions.”

Helen Sibeka did not believe him. Just as she was about to press further, Arthur Haim raised his arm, stopping her. He then continued to question Uncle Chris. “So, how do we enter that world?”

Uncle Chris shook his head. “That world was built for children. Adults do not have a ticket to enter.”

Arthur Haim appeared thoughtful, then smiled at Uncle Chris. “Thank you very much for your help. We shall take our leave now.”

He turned and exited the wooden hut, with Helen Sibeka naturally following close behind.

After leaving the graveyard, Arthur Haim walked along the path, preoccupied. Noticing his unusual demeanor, Helen Sibeka scoffed.

“Arthur Haim, what scheme are you concocting now?”

“You heard it too, didn’t you? A certain Heretic does indeed exist within this city-state.”

“Indeed, isn’t there one right before my eyes?”

“Helen, do you think [Utopia] would have the ability to enter the world of fairy tales?”

Helen Sibeka frowned, pondering for a moment. Her voice was cool and clear. “It’s highly probable. Both possess authority related to dreams. The reason the Holy Church hasn’t dealt with [Utopia] until now is precisely because we cannot reach the dream world.”

No sooner had Helen Sibeka finished speaking than she suddenly snapped to attention, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized Arthur Haim. “Why are you asking me this question? You want to enter the dream world? With your personality, you wouldn’t cooperate with the Dream Weavers. But the Witch’s Assembly are all lunatics… No! There truly is another mastermind behind the Witch’s Assembly, and it’s They who granted you this power?”

Arthur Haim twitched his lips. It was true that one’s enemies understood them best. Helen Sibeka, who had competed with him her entire life, had guessed the gist of it from his brief remark.

As for the parts she hadn’t guessed, it was impossible for human intellect to deduce them. He sighed lightly, knowing that concealment was futile, and openly admitted, “Indeed, I am currently working for the master behind the Witch’s Assembly. All of this is to save this world.”

Helen Sibeka narrowed her eyes. “They are Count Reyn Rheinhebo, who came with you, right? Otherwise, with your personality, you wouldn’t do something like travel with a noble. What is Their authority?”

Arthur’s face suddenly went blank, his sightless eyes turning indifferently toward Helen. He slowly spoke. “Helen Sibeka, that is not a question you should ask.”

Helen Sibeka’s expression drastically changed. In all the years she had known Arthur Haim, she had never seen him wear such a serious expression. Her mind raced, and she abandoned her previous sarcastic attitude, cautiously asking, “They… are very powerful?”

Arthur Haim nodded, his voice low. “Of course, especially for you.”

Helen Sibeka was stunned. “Me?”

“Do you know why he was able to become the master behind the Witch’s Assembly?”

“Isn’t it because he founded the Witch’s Assembly? Wait, you just used ‘he’?”

Helen Sibeka’s brow furrowed, noticing Arthur Haim’s choice of words. Arthur Haim seized the opportunity to explain. “Because Reyn Rheinhebo is indeed an ordinary person, not the host of a Heretic. Yet, he, an ordinary person, became the master behind the Witch’s Assembly. Do you know why?”

Helen Sibeka quickly shook her head, a tense expression on her face. Under Arthur Haim’s grave gaze, she subconsciously swallowed. “Why?”

Arthur Haim’s voice deepened, each word deliberate. “The Seven Witches are all his playthings.”

“Play… playthings?”

“Precisely. The kind of relationship you’re imagining.”

“How… how can that be!”

“But that is the truth. As an ordinary person, he effortlessly manipulated the hearts of the Witches. Now, can you imagine how dangerous he is?”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Helen Sibeka’s expression suddenly hardened, and she stared at Arthur Haim with a cold sneer. “If he truly were just an ordinary person, then how would you explain the source of your power?”

Arthur Haim merely chuckled at her words. “Well then, shall we make a wager?”

He opened his palm, revealing a single die. “This Heretic, the [Gambler], appeared recently. This is Its sealed state. Its authority lies in winning others’ time through gambling.”

“Do you think I would trust using something of yours?”

“I believe you wouldn’t think I’m trying to deceive you.”

Helen Sibeka silently met Arthur Haim’s gaze. After a long moment, she slowly spoke. “You’re right, I know you well. So, what will you wager? If it’s time, a weak human like me cannot afford it.”

Arthur Haim smiled warmly. “While our time might not be equal in quantity, life itself is. Let’s wager on that—on our respective lives!”

Helen Sibeka looked at Arthur Haim in shock. “Are you mad?”

“I am not mad. I am clearer-headed than I have ever been! Helen Sibeka, I need to save this world, and my strength alone is not enough! Therefore, I require your help.”

“That’s… quite typical of you.” Helen Sibeka looked at the die in Arthur Haim’s hand, sighing lightly. “How will the win or loss be determined?”

Arthur Haim handed her the die. “The wager is set. If you believe everything I’ve said is true, you lose. Conversely, you win.”

Helen Sibeka’s eyes flickered. “Oh? That condition certainly puts me at an advantage.”

Arthur Haim smiled silently, watching Helen Sibeka take the die, carefully suppressing the surge of glee within him.

‘Advantage?’

The winner of this wager was already predetermined, for Reyn Rheinhebo was indeed just an ordinary person, as ordinary as could be. Even if the various events surrounding him suggested his extraordinary nature, there would never be any concrete evidence. His very existence was simply that.