That evening, Han Ye made his way home, his thoughts still lingering on his father’s cryptic words. The vilge was bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, and the scent of cooking fires drifted through the air, but he barely noticed. His mind kept repying the events of the hunt, the strange symbol on the antler, and the way his father had reacted so violently.

  He had many questions, but he doubted he would get any clear answers.

  As he approached the house, he saw the door slightly ajar. That was unusual—his father was strict about keeping the house secured. Unease prickled at the back of Han Ye’s neck, but he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The moment he did—

  Shing!

  A knife flew straight toward his forehead.

  His heart nearly stopped.

  The world seemed to slow as the bde spun through the air, its polished surface gleaming in the dim light. Han Ye's body froze, his breath caught in his throat. Then—

  Chih!

  The knife stopped just before reaching his skin. It hovered there, trembling, before suddenly jerking backward, yanked by an unseen force. A faint whirr accompanied the movement—some kind of wire?

  His pulse pounded as he stumbled backward, pressing himself against the doorframe. His eyes darted toward the source.

  His father, Han Zhe, sat calmly on a wooden chair in the center of the room. His expression was unreadable, but Han Ye could see the faint glint of amusement in his eyes. Around him, the flickering candlelight cast long shadows, making his form seem rger, almost ominous.

  Across from him sat another man—one of the vilge elders, a quiet figure with a face like chiseled stone. He had not moved an inch during the entire ordeal, as if completely unbothered by what had just happened.

  Han Ye clutched his chest, trying to steady his breathing. "Wha—what was that for?!"

  Han Zhe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Do you know why I did that?"

  Han Ye swallowed hard. "I—I have no idea, Father!"

  Han Zhe exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "Hmph. I was merely testing your instincts."

  Han Ye gaped at him. "Testing my—?! I almost died!"

  His father merely shrugged. "And yet, you didn’t."

  Han Ye stared at him in disbelief. Was that supposed to be reassuring? His hands were still shaking, his heartbeat erratic.

  The vilge elder, who had remained silent the entire time, finally spoke. His voice was deep and measured. "His reaction time is still slow."

  Han Zhe nodded. "Yes. If that had been a real attack, he would be dead."

  Han Ye clenched his fists. "What the hell, Father? What kind of lesson is this?!"

  His father’s expression remained calm. "A necessary one."

  Han Ye was about to argue, but something in his father’s eyes made him hesitate. Han Zhe wasn’t just doing this for fun. There was a reason, something deeper that he wasn’t saying.

  Instead of pushing further, Han Ye took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down.

  "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "You tested my instincts. And I failed. What now?"

  A small smile tugged at the corner of Han Zhe’s lips. "Now, we move on to the real reason I called you here."

  With that, he reached under the table and pulled out a long, rectangur box made of dark wood. The surface was engraved with intricate carvings, swirling patterns that seemed almost alive in the dim light. The elder beside him stiffened slightly, as if even the sight of the box made him uneasy.

  Han Ye’s eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

  Han Zhe carefully pced the box on the table. His fingers traced the carvings, his expression briefly troubled.

  "This," he said, "is something I never wanted to show you. But after today’s events, I no longer have a choice."

  Han Ye took a cautious step forward. "Why? What’s inside?"

  His father looked up, meeting his gaze. "Something that should not exist."

  With deliberate slowness, he untched the box and pushed the lid open.

  A faint, eerie glow seeped from within.

  "What is this, Father? A book? And what is written here?" Han Ye asked, his fingers hovering just above the aged cover. The book emanated a strange aura, something both foreign and familiar at the same time.

  Han Zhe exhaled slowly. "This is something I acquired during my travels before I finally returned to the vilge. I do not know what is written in it."

  Han Ye frowned. "Then why keep it?"

  His father’s expression darkened. "Because some things should never be left unattended."

  Han Ye gnced at the strange symbols carved into the surface of the book, his curiosity growing. There was something about it—something that called to him. He felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and open it, as if invisible fingers were guiding his hands—

  "Don't."

  His father’s voice cut through the air like a bde, sharp and commanding.

  Han Ye stopped, looking at him in confusion. "Why not?"

  Han Zhe’s eyes never left the book. "Do you know why it is sealed inside this box?"

  Han Ye hesitated. "To... keep it safe?"

  His father shook his head. "No. To neutralize its effects."

  The room grew eerily silent. Even the candle fmes seemed to flicker in response to his words.

  Han Ye scoffed, though unease crawled up his spine. "Father, it's just a book. How can a book be—"

  "Ordinary?" Han Zhe interrupted, his gaze sharp. "Han Ye, there exist things in this world that do not obey the rules of nature. This book is one of them. It is not just ink and paper. It does something terrible to those who read it."

  A chill settled in Han Ye’s bones. He had read about forbidden tomes in stories, grimoires that contained knowledge too dangerous for ordinary minds to comprehend. But those were just tales... weren’t they?

  He swallowed. "What… happens to those who read it?"

  Han Zhe was silent for a long moment before answering.

  "They change."

  Han Ye furrowed his brows. "Change? How?"

  His father’s fingers tensed over the wooden box. "Their minds unravel. Their thoughts cease to be their own. And sometimes..." He trailed off, as if debating whether to continue.

  Han Ye felt his heart beating faster. "Sometimes... what?"

  Han Zhe looked him straight in the eyes. "Sometimes, something else takes their pce."

  A cold shiver ran down Han Ye’s spine.

  This wasn't a joke. His father wasn’t one for superstition. If he said something was dangerous, it was dangerous.

  But still...

  "How did you get it?" Han Ye asked.

  Han Zhe leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "That is a story for another time. What matters is that this book has remained sealed for years. And it must stay that way."

  Han Ye bit his lip, torn between fear and curiosity. "Then why show it to me at all?"

  His father let out a tired sigh. "Because you are no longer a child. There are things you must understand, dangers you must recognize. And one day..." He hesitated before continuing. "One day, you may be forced to make a choice regarding it."

  Han Ye didn’t like the sound of that.

  He stared at the book, now seeming much heavier than before. Its presence alone made the room feel colder.

  Something about it disturbed him—not just the ominous warning from his father, but the fact that the book itself felt aware.

  It was as if it was waiting for him.

  Waiting for someone to open it.

  And for the first time in his life, Han Ye was afraid of a book.