The Old Manor (1)
Snow was falling.
Winter, 2030.
A small car rumbled through the desolate countryside. Along the road, the remnants of old houses ca into view. Wild grass and flowers covered the open fields, nature had reclaid the land. Insects hid beneath broad leaves, while what was once a sea of blossoms now lay buried beneath the snow. In the distance, the scenery suddenly gave way to an endless forest.
The driver was a short, elderly Englishman, approachable in deanor, with a kindly smile etched into his face.
“Sir, the place you asked about is just up ahead,” he said.
“Ah, is that so? Still, this land looks beautiful,” I replied.
“Yes,” he chuckled, “I grew up nearby. I used to run around here with my friends all the ti.”
“You had a happy childhood then.”
“That’s right. Truly wonderful days. Feels like only a few years ago. And now—well, I’ve got a lovely little sweetheart of my own.”
“You an your granddaughter?”
“Hahaha, that’s right.”
Then, suddenly, the old man asked.
“Oh, forgive my mory. What’s your na?”
I smiled. “My na is Will Zhang. Just call Will. And you?”
“I’m Tuer Smith,” he replied with a gentle smile.
I returned his smile.
“Still, it’s rare to et anyone who rembers this place.”
“Ah, I only heard the scenery was beautiful here, unspoiled by others, and it stirred my curiosity.”
The driver lowered his head slightly, turning his face halfway toward .
“Sir, you’re here for the old manor, aren’t you?”
My heart skipped.
“...So you’ve noticed.”
“Tell —why go there?”
I paused, considering, then spoke.
“...It’s strange, but I suppose I can tell you.”
“Oh?” His curiosity piqued, he slowed the car.
“Ten years ago, I had a dream. I dread of a beautiful old manor, swallowed by nature—ancient, yet brimming with life.
I dread of walking inside, seeing rows of solemn statues. At the very end, a massive stone gate.
When I pushed it open, I saw an enormous, impossible clock. And when the clock struck midnight, a black robe appeared in midair. As it fell, a girl—so beautiful she seed otherworldly—erged from within.
That dream has haunted ever since. For the past few years, it’s grown more and more vivid. And so, with the help of friends, I found this place.”
After spilling out this long explanation, I felt my English faltering—grasping for the right words, forced to paint only a rough outline.
The old man listened quietly, his expression unreadable, before smoothing the car back into a steady pace.
“Mr. Will, from Asia… I thought you were just another greedy capitalist, here to buy up this land. But I never imagined—you might be the one spoken of in the legend. The fated one.”
“...What? What do you an?”
The car slowed to a stop.
The old man turned toward , his expression grave and mysterious.
“Sir, that manor—no one knows how many centuries it’s been, but there is a legend.”
A shiver of mystery passed through . I leaned forward, intent on his words.
He began.
“During the witch hunts, there lived a witch of imnse power. Surrounded and pursued by the Church, she fled here. With her magic, she conjured a dense forest to shield herself, and within it she built a splendid manor. There, she lived in peace.”
“But even the strongest witch cannot hide forever. The Church, driven by fanatical faith, tracked her down. Crying the na of God, they set fire to her forest, stord the burning ruins, and forced their way into her ho.”
The old man’s voice grew heavier, tinged with emotion.
“The witch had power beyond imagination. But she did not wish to harm them. She remained still, even as they tried to kill her. Burn her body, cut off her head—each ti, she returned, whole again. No fla or blade could end her.
The Church was helpless. And then, at last, the silent witch spoke: ‘Take back to my ho. I don’t want to be hurt anymore.’
Fearing her power, yet unable to kill her, they dragged her back to the manor. They carved stone guardians, hung icons of the Lord, and sealed her behind a marble gate etched with a cross. She was imprisoned in the deepest chamber of the manor.”
The old man paused, thoughtful, then continued.
“And it’s said that before the seal closed, the witch cried out: ‘A century from now, fate will bind to another. Together, we shall fulfill a great destiny.’ After that, she vanished, never to be seen again.”
He exhaled deeply, finishing the tale, and then settled back into his seat.
“That’s the story my grandfather told . I've always rembered it very clearly.”
I sat in silence.
The old man wasn’t much of a storyteller, his words clipped and uneven—yet still, the legend’s eerie resemblance to my dream struck to the core.
“So, sir… did you really dream of it?”
“Yes,” I admitted quietly.
“Then you intend to go there?”
“Yes. I told you from the start—that’s my goal. No matter what, I have to reach that manor.”
I couldn’t explain why, but I felt compelled to go, even through this unease.
“Then… good luck to you, sir.”
The car started again, tires crunching over the muddy road.
“When we arrive, I’ll wait two hours. Please return within that ti.”
“Understood. Thank you. But… why the rush?”
“This forest is not safe. Wild beasts may roam here. I can’t abandon you.”
A chill passed through . Yet, more than fear, determination stirred. I had to see it for myself.
Perhaps I should have brought others… No. That would only draw unwanted attention to this place.
“Very well. I’ll be quick.”
The ride carried on with lighthearted small talk.
Beyond the window stretched endless white fields, giving way at last to a forest smothered in snow.
What had been little more than a pair of rutted tracks soon faded into nothing but mud and brush.
There was no road anymore.
“Sir, I’ll stop here. If my mory serves correctly, head deeper into the woods. When the sunlight disappears and you find a thicket of thorns—that’s where the manor lies.”
“Thank you for your guidance.”
I rolled down the window, adjusted my hat, and patted the pistol hidden inside my coat—an old gift from a friend in England. Then I opened the door.
“Wait, Mr. Will,” the old man called.
“Yes?”
“Above all, be safe.”
“Ah, you’re a true gentleman,” I said, sincerely. In all my ti in England, I had never t anyone so kind.
He said nothing more, simply eased the car back, cut the engine, and watched.
I hesitated for a mont. Then I turned, and walked straight into the depths of the forest.
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