The Whisper of the God of Love (Part 1)

In the end, Anne still found herself standing before the door.

The man’s raw, primal terror was a clear sign that nothing good lay beyond it. But like a big, red, candy-like button with a sign that says “Do Not Press,” the innate, perverse curiosity and rebellious streak of humanity compelled her to stand there, her heart pounding a slow, heavy rhythm against her ribs.

No, it wasn’t just that. It was something deeper, more subtle.

It was her intuition.

From the moment she had set foot in this village, a profound, unshakable sense of wrongness had clung to her like a shroud. A feeling that something was always lurking in the shadows, just at the edge of her perception. After meeting Elka, that feeling had only intensified, as if behind Elka’s bright, cheerful, and utterly innocent smile, something was hidden. Something far more terrifying than she let on.

And it was that very something that made it impossible not to look. It was the same irresistible, serpentine pull that had once led the first children to a forbidden, world-ending apple.

“Just… one look.”

Anne placed her hand on the doorknob. The cold, unforgiving touch of the metal helped to steady her nerves. She held her breath, listening, confirming that Elka was still busy in the kitchen, humming a cheerful tune.

And then, she turned the handle.

With a soft, almost inaudible click, the door swung open.

Anne peered into the room.

And her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

…

From the moment she had entered the house, a faint, cloying floral scent had filled the air. Anne had recognized it as some kind of perfume, as she occasionally used it herself. But upon opening this door, that floral scent became overpowering. No, it was more than that; it was suffocating. As if a dozen perfume bottles had been shattered in the room at once, the intense, sickeningly sweet fragrance was so thick it was hard to breathe.

And yet, even through that cloying sweetness, she could smell it.

The smell of blood.

A thick, coppery, and overwhelmingly potent stench that was almost a physical presence in the room.

And then, Anne saw it.

In the small, dimly lit room, a few desperate moths fluttered around a lamp, their wings beating a frantic, silent rhythm against the cold glass, forever separated from the flame they so desperately craved.

And beneath that pale, flickering light, on a simple iron bed, a young woman lay silently.

She was completely, and vulnerably, naked.

And from her rounded chest down to just above her private parts, there was a massive, gaping, and brutally carved wound. Her mangled internal organs spilled out in a grotesque, colorful cascade, the blood having long since drained away, revealing the dark, glistening fascia beneath.

The young woman had been… disemboweled.

“Ngh—”

The visceral, gut-wrenching shock was so intense that even Anne, a woman not easily shaken, felt her stomach churn violently. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled back, her foot landing in something wet and slick, splashing the dark liquid all over her pristine uniform.

It was blood.

The entire floor of the room was covered in it, a shallow, sticky pool of it. This was the source of the stench that not even the strongest perfume could hide. This couldn’t possibly be the blood of just one person. But where had it all come from?

“Ah… ghh… ghh…”

Just as Anne’s mind was reeling in a vortex of chaos and horror, she heard a hoarse, guttural, and utterly inhuman sound, as if being forced from the depths of a throat. The sound of a demon.

Anne’s neck creaked as she stiffly, mechanically, raised her head.

To her absolute, mind-shattering horror, she saw that the disemboweled young woman was not yet dead. But her organs were spilled out on the bed! How could she possibly still be alive?

As if disturbed by the sound Anne had made, the young woman slowly, agonizingly, turned her head and looked at the maid in the doorway.

“Ghh…”

Her face was as pale as paper, her eyes vacant and dead. It was impossible to know if she could even see, but she faced Anne, her lips moving weakly, like a dying person trying to call for help with their last, fleeting breath.

But the words she spoke were not a cry for help.

They were—

—”I… love you…”

With a twisted, agonized expression, the young woman forced the words from her dry, cracked throat, a confession of pure, unadulterated love.

“I love you…”

“I’m sorry… I love you…”

“Sob… I love you…”

The young woman’s voice, like a ghostly, chilling wind, echoed in the room, freezing Anne to the very bone.

But just as she was about to turn and flee from this house of horrors, a familiar, cheerful voice sounded from behind her.

“Oh, my. It seems you’ve found me out, Master.”

The horrifying, gurgling wail was cut short, as if strangled. As if a crying infant in the night had just come face to face with the monster from its darkest nightmares.

“Elka…”

Anne slowly, mechanically, turned her head. The movement was so slow, so stiff, that she could almost hear the grinding of the bones in her own neck.

“Sigh. Why did you have to open this door, Master?” Elka stood there, holding a tray with two teacups, sighing with the theatrical exasperation of a little girl whose secret hiding place had just been discovered. “According to my plan, your turn wasn’t supposed to be until much, much later.”

“Much later… you… what do you mean by that?”

“I mean… that everyone must accept my boundless, all-consuming love. Just like them.”

Elka casually dropped the tea tray, the porcelain shattering on the floor with a deafening crash. Then, with a sweet, beatific smile, she lifted her shirt, exposing her abdomen.

—On Elka’s pale, smooth abdomen, just below the line of her cute pink underwear, was a dark, leathery, and terrifyingly familiar human face, embedded in her very flesh.

It took Anne only a moment to recognize it. She had seen that face just a short while ago.

—It was Elka’s mother, identical to the one in the painting.

“I love you…” the face wailed in a silent, eternal agony, but the words that seemed to echo from it were still those same three, love-filled words. As if it could no longer say anything else.

“And this one too.”

Elka turned around.

On her back was another dark, leathery face.

—Her father’s face.

“I love you…”

“I love you…”

This face, slightly older, was streaked with tears, as if enduring an unimaginable, endless torment. And yet, its lips were pulled back in a wide, ecstatic, and utterly terrifying grin as it repeated those three words over and over again.

It was a sight so twisted, so monstrous, that it was terrifying.

“What in the world is going on…”

Anne instinctively stumbled back, trying to get away from Elka. At this moment, she finally, truly understood. The disemboweled girl behind her was horrifying, yes, but the smiling, cheerful Elka before her… she was the true source of this unimaginable terror.

“First, my beloved father and mother. Then, my dear Rod. And after that, all the kind neighbors who have looked after me for so long. And after them… it will be your turn, Master.”

Elka turned back, her eyes shining with a pure, innocent, and completely insane joy as she counted on her fingers, like a child listing her favorite sweets.

“You see, Master? I have so many people to love! I’m so, so happy.”

“Elka, snap out of it! This is…”

“I am perfectly lucid.” Elka interrupted her with a serene, gentle smile. “In fact, I am very grateful to you, Master.”

“Grateful… to me?”

“That’s right. It was you, Master, who taught me what true love really is.”

“What—” Anne’s mind went completely, utterly blank.

“I… taught you?”

“Yes. That day, by the lake. Was it not you who taught me?” Elka raised her hands, her expression one of pure, unadulterated, religious ecstasy. “That true love is above all else! That it knows no taboos! That it gives one the sacred right to possess the object of one’s affection! Isn’t that what you told me?”

“After I returned, I told the great god of my new understanding, and the god was very, very pleased with your ideas.”

“A god?”

“Yes. The one who gave me the power of love. The great, benevolent god who governs all the love in the world—the God of Love.”

Elka held out a hand to Anne, a sweet, inviting smile on her face. “So, will you accept my love as well, Master?”

“Love… a god…”

Anne’s mind was in chaos. Too many things, too many impossible, unexpected developments, were assaulting her sanity. But through the thick, suffocating fog of her confusion, her years of training and experience allowed her to piece together one, single, logical thread.

A single… and most terrible, most horrifying, logical thread.

“Elka… you…” Anne looked up, her gaze lost and bewildered as she stared at the smiling, radiant girl before her. And then, in a trembling whisper she barely recognized as her own, she asked, “Have you been… corrupted by an Evil God?”