WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
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Chapter 163: The Side Effects of Possession Nobody Tells You About
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The Gardener woke with a start the moment they saw the sentence.
They had to go into the forest!
Who on earth would play such a nasty prank?
There was an ancient unwritten rule here:
"Do not enter the forest."
The Gardener got out of bed and looked at the woods beyond the window.
The cursed forest called Grimmwood.
Everyone who ventured deep into that forest failed to return.
Even when they needed firewood, they only cut down a few trees at the forest's edge.
Like rats nibbling only at the very tips of the bait in a mousetrap.
'Goodness. I must not be fully awake yet.'
The Gardener stared blankly at the forest, then hurriedly drew the curtains, afraid the darkness within the woods might spill over into the garden annex.
A witch lived in Grimmwood.
A truly terrifying witch who ate people and spread horrible illnesses!
Just imagining it made the Gardener shudder. They shook their head and tossed the scrap of paper in their hand into the cold fireplace.
Going into the forest was not the Gardener's role.
The Gardener's job was to dig the soil, plant seeds, bury pale secrets as fertilizer, scatter them, cover them with soil, water them, expose them to light, sing to them, and sing louder until no sound could be heard anymore...
Knock, knock!
Someone knocked on the annex door. The Gardener flinched like a frightened mouse and turned toward it.
"Who is it...?"
"The Cook of this manor?"
A strange voice came from beyond the door, compelling enough to make the Gardener's stomach churn.
"Ah."
Only then did the Gardener brighten. They hurried over, opened the door, and welcomed the Cook.
"What brings you here at this hour? There's still a while before sunrise. Do you need any ingredients? The fields are still a mess, so I don't have much I can give you..."
The Cook stood on the threshold and silently looked at the Gardener.
With an expression the Gardener could not understand.
"You're easily influenced."
"Pardon?"
"You don't want to leave."
This time, the Gardener recognized the expression. It was the look one gave something pitiful and pathetic.
But they did not understand why the Cook was looking at them that way.
"Still, you have to leave."
The Cook's gentle voice drove into the Gardener's heart like a nail.
'Where?' the Gardener thought. 'Where am I supposed to leave for?'
As the Gardener stood there blinking, the Cook frowned irritably and turned away.
"Idiots." The Cook muttered as though chewing over an old grievance. "I'm sick of it. Sick of it."
Flustered, the Gardener hurried after the Cook.
"Excuse me...!"
"Figure it out yourself!" The Cook shouted, shaking off the Gardener's hand. "Settle down here! Or go back dead!"
The Gardener stopped awkwardly and could only stare blankly at the Cook's retreating back as they returned to the manor.
Before long, dawn broke. Another new day had begun.
At breakfast time, the Gardener left the garden annex and headed for the manor.
Beyond a shabby door near the kitchen was a small dining room where the servants gathered to eat.
Creeeak...
When the Gardener entered, the other servants were already seated. Perhaps they had no appetite. Every one of them looked hollow-eyed, holding utensils as they picked at their food without really eating.
"Good morning."
Creak, creak.
Eyeballs rolled toward the Gardener, then returned to the plates on the table.
"Good morning to you."
The Housekeeper was the only one to return the greeting.
The middle-aged Housekeeper had twisted their hair up without a strand out of place, as always, and wore a black dress like mourning clothes.
Clack.
The moment the Gardener sat across from the Housekeeper, the kitchen maid set down their meal.
"Thank you. I'll dig in."
The kitchen maid did not acknowledge the Gardener's polite greeting, not even with the slightest glance, and turned away with an exceedingly stiff expression.
Swish.
Once the kitchen maid had moved away, the Housekeeper across the table abruptly spoke.
"Keeping a diary can help."
"Help who?"
It was a strange question. The Gardener found themself puzzled by their own reply. Wasn't a diary something one wrote for oneself?
"Everyone who reads your diary."
So said the manor's Housekeeper.
"But..."
The words slipped from the Gardener's mouth before they could stop them.
"Then why were you burning a diary, Housekeeper?"
Had the Housekeeper really done that? The Gardener tilted their head again. If so, whose diary had the Housekeeper been burning?
The wrinkles around the Housekeeper's eyes twitched faintly.
"You are... different from us."
The Gardener somehow read resentment and sorrow in those seasoned, middle-aged eyes, but still could not understand why.
"Us? What do you mean, different?"
"You have somewhere to return to."
The Housekeeper's face suddenly grew stern as soon as they finished speaking. They rose from their seat.
"Ah, wait."
The Gardener awkwardly stood as well and stopped them.
"Do you happen to know where the Cook is? I thought they'd be here..."
"It's free time right now." The Housekeeper gestured toward the empty plate. "The Cook has finished their work. They'll likely return before dinner. They seem sharp enough."
For some reason, the Gardener felt uneasy.
'It's dangerous to leave the Cook alone.'
They did not know why they thought that.
Before leaving the dining room, the Housekeeper turned back to look at the Gardener.
"You may go look for the Cook once you have finished eating. There is no set time for tending the garden, and you need only return before nightfall. There is usually work to do after the sun sets."
After the Housekeeper left the dining room, the other servants who had finished eating rose one by one.
They walked past as though the Gardener did not exist.
Without paying them any mind, the Gardener began eating the breakfast the Cook had prepared.
It was a thick, soupy dish somewhere between porridge and soup, simmered with shriveled vegetables and grains.
The Cook must not have spared the seasoning. It tasted pleasantly savory despite its appearance.
'Didn't someone say the Cook couldn't cook?'
The thought suddenly occurred to the Gardener. Then they tilted their head again.
'No, that can't be right. A Cook who can't cook?'
After quickly finishing the meal, the Gardener gave a brief bow to the kitchen maid clearing the empty plates and left the dining room.
The manor hallway was as quiet as a dead mouse.
'I need to find the Cook. Where did they go?'
The Gardener could not stop thinking about the Cook's face from that morning, when they had shaken off the Gardener's hand and turned away.
They did not know why, but they had surely hurt the Cook without meaning to.
The Gardener knew at once because it had happened many times throughout their life.
Things that happened when one understood someone's heart, but did not truly understand it.
Yet those people did not understand the Gardener either.
They wanted to understand, but could not. They wanted to be understood, but could not be.
'There was only one person I truly wanted to understand me. One person would have been enough.'
The Gardener's breathing grew ragged.
'If only that woman had seen me as just myself...'
Then the Gardener stopped dead.
'Who was that woman?'
They could not remember.
It felt as though insects were crawling through their head. Tiny insects were slowly gnawing away inside their skull.
As the confused Gardener stood there, something entered their field of vision.
Someone was moving beyond the hallway window.
The Gardener cast aside every thought from moments ago and moved closer to the glass.
Clothes as deep and dark green as the forest foliage wet with night rain. Black hair flowing in waves like the night sea. Strange shoes taking soft, light steps.
'The Cook?'
Startled, the Gardener ran down the hallway.
The Cook was heading for the forest.
Grimmwood, the cursed forest of the witch!
"No!"
The Gardener burst out of the manor, breathless, and shouted at the Cook in the distance.
"You mustn't go into the forest!"
The Cook had already stepped into the forest's edge. Fortunately, it was not too late. A witch's touch could not easily reach the edge of the woods.
"Cook!"
The Gardener barely caught up. The Cook, who had ignored the calls until then, finally turned around.
"What, are you going in too?"
"No, that's not it..." the Gardener said between breaths. "I'm telling you, you mustn't go in. A witch lives in this forest!"
At that, the Cook's delicate brows drew together slightly.
"Is that part of the setting? I don't remember it."
"Pardon? I don't understand what you mean."
The Gardener stared in confusion, and the Cook wore a similar expression.
"Maybe being so easily influenced isn't entirely bad?"
The Cook took the Gardener by the shoulders, while the Gardener still looked unable to understand.
"Tell me. Everything you know."
The Cook had an oddly imposing presence. Before they knew it, the Gardener silently nodded.
'What a frightening person!'
Even as they thought so, the Gardener wanted to grant the Cook's request for some reason.
'They're scary, but not a bad person. This kid is just...'
The Gardener's thoughts stopped there.
"Let's go to your home first."
The Cook took hold of the Gardener and turned back toward the garden.
It was far better than entering the forest, so the Gardener quietly allowed themself to be led to the annex without complaint.
Creeeak...
The door to the cozy annex in one corner of the garden opened and closed. The Gardener awkwardly showed the Cook inside.
"Please, sit here."
There was no separate space for guests, so the Gardener seated the Cook in the chair before the small table.
Having given up the only chair, the Gardener had to stand beside it awkwardly, like a child being punished.
"Would you like some tea, perhaps..."
The Gardener fell silent the moment they saw the Cook's expression.
The Cook did not look in the mood to leisurely drink black tea.
"Tell me quickly, okay? Something I don't know."
As if they had never glared at the Gardener, the Cook urged them on with eyes gleaming like obsidian.
'What a strange person...'
A shadow in the forest.
Looking at the Cook, the Gardener suddenly thought of a shadow in the woods.
Beyond that shadow could be a tiny squirrel, a starving wolf, or a person holding a hammer...
"Well, but... I don't know what it is you don't know."
"That's okay. Neither do I."
Unexpectedly, the Cook smiled softly.
"Tell me about the forest."
"About Grimmwood?"
The Gardener immediately felt resistance.
At the same time, they wondered why the Cook was asking about such a thing, and how they could possibly not know about Grimmwood.
"So that's its name."
The corners of the Cook's mouth rose slightly.
"Siblings, and even a witch..."
The Cook tapped a foot as though entertaining an interesting thought, then stood. They made a circuit of the Gardener's not particularly spacious annex before stopping before the fireplace.
With a light movement, the Cook picked something up from the dusty fireplace.
It was the scrap of paper the Gardener had thrown away that morning.
The Cook unfolded the crumpled paper and handed it to the Gardener.
"You have to go into the forest."
The Cook's palm was dotted with dark red scars, as though it had been pricked many times by a needle.
The Cook looked at the Gardener and smiled like a child.
"Do you think there'll be a gingerbread house too?"
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