Chapter 8: The Banshee (1)

“For a child, this really isn’t a safe place…”

The female employee’s words left Shelly utterly baffled. He had just opened his mouth to press her for an explanation when, out of nowhere, a gruff male voice cut in from the side: “Charlie, Charlie! Where are you? Get over here and give me a hand!”

“Coming!” The woman named Charlie rose onto her tiptoes and shouted back in the direction of the voice. After that, she turned to Shelly and made an apologetic gesture. “The manager needs me… Well then, see you next time.”

Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off between the shelves and disappeared from sight.

“……”

“Ridiculous—absolutely ridiculous! Figures for a backwater town. Not only is the selection pitiful, they even make up stories to scare customers!” Once the shop assistant was gone, Shelly pushed the cart through the shopping center, muttering curses under his breath as he went.

He was convinced Charlie had been lying.

“All that ‘this place isn’t suitable’ and ‘the town isn’t safe for children’—it was obviously fake. Definitely just some nonsense she made up to cover for the shopping center’s lack of products.” Shelly had heard people say that the more remote a place was, the stronger the locals’ pride and sense of collective honor tended to be. When outsiders pointed out flaws, this kind of defensive, exclusionary reaction was bound to happen.

And here he’d been, praising Pukati Town to the skies earlier, thinking it a place of simple folk and beautiful scenery. Now it seemed that while the scenery might indeed be lovely, the character of the people clearly deserved a big discount!

Everly, sitting in the shopping cart basket, had a different opinion.

She thought Charlie’s attitude had been very gentle, her words sincere—she didn’t look like she was lying at all… But if the shop assistant’s warning were true, wouldn’t that mean Pukati Town really did harbor some kind of danger, making it unsuitable for her to live in?

That possibility felt even harder to accept…

The baby sucked on her finger, pondering this and that. In the end, she spread her hands and decided to give up. She was far too young—she couldn’t even talk yet. Whether the town was safe or dangerous, the right to decide whether to stay or leave would always belong to her idiot dad, Shelly.

All she could do was keep her eyes wide open and observe carefully.

Shelly checked out at the shopping center counter, his head full of complaints.

With so many items in hand and his legs not exactly cooperative, he first took the things he’d bought back home. Then, carrying Everly, he went around asking for directions and visited two other, smaller shops in town, hoping to find things Everly could use.

However—

“Baby products? I’m sorry, we don’t sell those here.”

“You should drive to Kate Town instead. Only there can you buy what you’re looking for.”

As soon as he mentioned infant formula and similar items, the shop owners all shook their heads, explaining that their small stores didn’t carry baby supplies.

Shelly was deeply disappointed. Holding Everly, he turned to leave, when one of the shopkeepers suddenly called out to him, “Sir, have you visited the town’s history museum?”

Shelly stopped short. “No, I haven’t… This town has a history museum?”

“Yes. It’s right in the center of town and open to the public all day, free of charge. You should go take a look—it can help you understand a lot about the town’s history and its taboos. For example, have you heard that on foggy days, you must never take children outside?”

“Mrs. Christina mentioned it to me—‘Don’t take children to the seaside, don’t take children out on foggy days, don’t dry children’s clothes in the fog, and don’t let children be exposed to the lighthouse’s light.’ Those four rules, right?”

“That’s right. You have a great memory. But do you know where those taboos come from?”

Shelly didn’t know, but he was happy to speculate. “Not taking kids to the seaside prevents them from drowning. As for the two rules related to fog—I looked it up online. Pukati got its start from placer gold mining, and mining definitely causes pollution. Not letting people dry clothes or take children out on foggy days was probably because the fog back then contained toxic substances, and they were worried it would harm children’s health. As for the last one—hey, lighthouses are meant to guide ships at sea, right? How could their light possibly shine onto land?”

At that, Shelly felt he’d just told a very amusing joke and chuckled to himself.

The shopkeeper laughed as well. “You’re mistaken. Pukati’s fog comes in from the sea, and its composition is very clean—there’s none of the pollution you’re talking about.”

“Then why aren’t people allowed to go out on foggy days?”

“The specific reason—you’ll find out once you visit the museum…” The shopkeeper paused, then added solemnly, “Just remember: if you live in Pukati, you must strictly adhere to those four taboos. Absolutely do not forget them.” As he finished speaking, the smile slowly faded from his face, leaving him looking completely serious.

The sharp contrast in his demeanor left Shelly a little bewildered.

He nodded vaguely and quickly left the shop with Everly.

After running around all morning, Shelly was feeling worn out. In the center of town were the only two restaurants Pukati had. Not wanting to go home and cook, he splurged for once and, holding Everly, ate lunch at one of them.

After the meal, while walking it off, he thought again of the museum the shopkeeper had mentioned. Shelly decided to go take a look—as an artist, he was always in need of inspiration from all kinds of strange and curious things. Perhaps the Pukati History Museum would surprise him.

The town was small, and the museum was easy to find. It was located on the first floor of the town hall building in the very center of town, set aside as a small, separate exhibition hall. The lighting inside was bright, and along the walls stood three display cases, arranged vertically and horizontally. Aside from the exhibits, there wasn’t a single staff member in sight.

Seeing how small this so-called “museum” was, Shelly hadn’t had high expectations. To his surprise, however, the items inside the history museum turned out to be unexpectedly interesting.

In the first display case on the left as you entered were a family genealogy, several portraits, a miner’s pickaxe, a pile of dark gold–colored, sand-like ore, and a medal. On the wall above the case, the story behind these exhibits was engraved in ornate cursive lettering.

Everly could read, but her English was limited. Fortunately, Shelly had the habit of reading aloud as he went, allowing her to piece things together and grasp the general outline of the story—

Several hundred years ago, on a certain day in 1783, a man named Sokdis Nikolo Plos awoke from a dream. He was radiant with excitement and happily told everyone that, in his sleep, he had climbed a spiraling golden staircase and, at its summit, received guidance from a god. The god told him to go east, to a barren [something] (Everly didn’t quite catch the word), where the wealth he sought lay deeply buried.

Sokdis then gathered a group of companions. After crossing mountains and rivers and enduring a long, arduous journey, they finally arrived at the place the god had indicated. He raised his pickaxe and struck the rock, and beneath the layers of stone appeared a handful of placer gold—the very symbol of wealth. The discovery of gold attracted large numbers of prospectors, and where people gathered, the prototype of Pukati Town gradually took shape. Sokdis, quite naturally, became Pukati’s first mayor.

In 1796, after years of continuous mining, the first placer gold mine was declared exhausted. Sokdis erected a grand altar in the town, served as the chief officiant himself, and held a magnificent [ritual] ceremony to pray to the gods. The gods answered his prayers. Through prophetic dreams, Sokdis subsequently discovered three new mineral veins around the town, allowing its prosperity to continue.

Time jumped to 1802. On the night of July 13 that year, Sokdis awoke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. He told those around him that the [name of a] mine shaft was about to collapse and ordered the guards to seal off that tunnel immediately. Sure enough, by the next morning, the mine collapsed due to unstable geological conditions. The survivors gathered around Sokdis, hailing him as a great prophet, a benevolent father, and a divine agent walking among mortals. The town government subsequently awarded him the Medal of Special Contribution.

The story of the first display case ended there.

The genealogy, portraits, and medal in the case all belonged to Sokdis. The pickaxe was the very one used to open the first placer gold mine, making it of great commemorative value. As for the pile of golden sand, it was unrefined placer gold ore.

Moving on to the second row of display cases, the items inside were even more fantastical in nature.

Displayed at the very front were several clippings from local newspapers. Printed on them were old black-and-white photographs and a series of sensational headlines—

“Two-Year-Old Child Vanishes from Home, Doors and Windows Locked with No Signs of Forced Entry”

“Another Child Disappearance—Who Is Stealing Our Children?”

“Mayor’s Beloved Daughter Mary Missing, Mayor’s Wife Faints in Public!” …

Shelly gave the exhibits a quick glance, then lifted his head to read the text on the wall:

“In 1821, a woman came to the police station to report that her two-year-old son had mysteriously disappeared from their home… The newly appointed sheriff, Patia, took over the case. After investigating, he was shocked to discover that ever since the town was founded, several children had gone missing every year, and after 1815 the situation grew increasingly severe…”

“The disappearances escalated. When Mayor Achilles’s beloved daughter also became a victim, the townspeople were uncommonly furious. Grief-stricken, the mayor instructed the townspeople to hide their children in cellars, leaving only his youngest son, Raley, outside as bait. After a long wait, the true culprit behind the disappearances—the evil sea banshee—finally revealed herself.”

Everly pricked up her ears, listening to her dad read while lowering her head to examine the exhibits.

Behind the clippings were three oil paintings. The first depicted a monster with a human upper body and a serpent’s tail, her features ferocious. She coiled atop a towering mound of white bones, blood staining her lips, a lifeless infant covered in wounds cradled in her arms—clearly the “sea banshee” mentioned in the story.

“…Mayor Achilles Nikolo Plos’s integrity and selflessness moved the gods. A powerful exorcist arrived upon hearing the news and joined the fight. Under the leadership of the mayor and the exorcist, the townspeople engaged the banshee in a desperate battle. The fighting lasted three days and three nights; the banshee’s blood dyed the sea red. After a bitter and arduous struggle, the townspeople finally killed the banshee and, after […], secretly sealed her away…”

Following the sea banshee, the second and third oil paintings were rendered in heavy, saturated colors, with thick, forceful brushstrokes. They meticulously depicted two scenes: “The Townspeople Battling the Banshee” and “The Banshee Cut into Pieces, Her Blood Staining the Sea Red.”

When she reached the third painting, Everly suddenly understood. So the word she hadn’t caught earlier meant “dismembered,” “cut into pieces.” How nice—today had been a day of gains once again. She’d learned a new word.

She then cast an intrigued look toward the final exhibit: a dark greenish-black scale, about the size of a coin.

That was also, in her opinion, the most absurd exhibit in the entire hall. Beneath it was a label that read: “Tail Scale of the Sea Banshee — Donated by the Brave Townsman Rosa Smith.” With both a clear origin and a named donor, it looked impressively authentic, as if there really had been a child-stealing sea banshee who fought the townspeople to the death—instantly elevating an ordinary folk legend to the level of “based on true events.”

But how could there possibly be banshees in the real world…?

Uh—wait. On second thought, maybe there really could be!

Recalling the paranormal incidents she herself had experienced, the smile on Everly’s face froze.

How could she have forgotten? This was a strange world where anything was possible.