Supplie-moi~Vendu au patron de mon père~

The bells rang before the sun rose.

Slow. Heavy. Endless.

Each sound traveled across the sleeping village like a wound reopening again and again, slipping through wooden doors, broken windows, and the thin walls of houses that could no longer protect anyone.

Eredell was no longer a living village.

It was a place waiting to disappear.

A place where breath itself felt unsafe.

The air outside was cold, but it was not clean. It carried something else—something thick, almost metallic, mixed with the smell of smoke and decay. A smell people no longer reacted to, because they had grown used to it.

Or because they had stopped pretending.

Down the narrow streets, no children ran anymore. No merchants shouted. No neighbors greeted each other.

Only silence moved between the houses.

And fear.

Fear that did not leave.

Fear that stayed, even when everyone else was gone.

At the edge of the village, a woman stood behind a cracked window.

Her name was Elara.

She had once been known for her gentle voice and calm hands. Now her face looked tired in a way sleep could not fix. Her eyes were no longer bright—they were watching something no one else could see.

Or maybe she was watching everything too clearly.

Her hand rested on her stomach.

Small.

Protective.

Alive.

Inside her, life still existed in a world that had stopped believing in it.

A child.

Her child.

And that was the only reason she was still here.

A cough broke the silence behind her.

She didn’t turn immediately.

She already knew who it was.

“You’re still standing,” a voice said softly.

It was Adrian.

Her husband.

His voice was quieter than before. Not weak… but careful. As if even speaking too loudly might invite something worse into the room.

Elara finally turned.

He stood near the door, one hand resting on the wooden frame, the other hidden in his coat. His face looked tired—but not defeated. Not yet.

“I told you to rest,” she said.

“And I told you I’m not leaving you alone.”

A pause.

The kind that held too many things at once.

Love.

Fear.

And the truth neither of them wanted to say out loud.

Another bell rang outside.

Closer this time.

Elara closed her eyes for a second.

“It’s getting worse,” she whispered.

Adrian didn’t answer immediately.

Because there was nothing left to deny.

The Black Breath was no longer a rumor.

It was here.

It had names now.

It had faces.

And it was taking them one by one.

Elara walked slowly toward the table, holding her stomach slightly as another small wave of pain passed through her body. She tried to hide it—but Adrian noticed anyway.

He always noticed.

“You’re in pain again,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Silence.

She looked away.

That silence meant more than words.

Adrian stepped closer.

Carefully.

Like he was afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast.

“They said the south village is gone,” he said quietly.

Elara’s fingers tightened.

“How many?”

“No one knows,” he replied. “No one stayed long enough to count.”

The words settled between them like ash.

Another place erased.

Another piece of the world gone.

Elara swallowed hard.

“And us?” she asked.

Adrian didn’t answer immediately.

That hesitation was the answer.

She nodded slowly, as if she already understood.

They were next.

A loud knock suddenly echoed from outside.

Both of them froze.

The sound came again.

Harder this time.

Urgent.

Adrian moved first, stepping toward the door.

“No,” Elara said quickly.

He stopped.

Their eyes met.

And in that moment, everything unspoken passed between them.

If the door opened…

Nothing would be the same after.

The knocking stopped.

Silence returned.

But it was not peaceful.

It was waiting.

Elara exhaled shakily and pressed her hand against her stomach again.

A quiet promise formed in her mind.

No matter what happens… I will protect you.

Even if the world ended.

Even if she didn’t survive it.

Outside, the bells rang again.

And somewhere beyond the village… the Black Breath continued to spread.

Unstoppable.

Unforgiving.

Alive.

And watching.