After recording his discovery in his diary, Griffin pushed away from the workbench. He stood, leaving the open diary and fallen pen on the table.
A deep sigh escaped him as he walked to his makeshift bed.
Staring at the ticking wall clock, he suddenly remembered he'd created that interdimensional domain clad only in his underwear, during the throne room uprising and subsequent sightseeing of the world. His eyes dropped to his blue-dotted boxers.
Another frustrated sigh.
"That was quite awkward," he muttered.
Then, the clock's ticking quickened, becoming erratic. Its hands spun like a frantic fan, the increased noise drew his attention. The gas lamp faltered and died. The diary pages whirred, rapidly flipping to reveal blank paper—the words of his discovery vanished, erased from the diary.
Griffin sprang from the bed, scrambling backwards into the corner, his back pressed against the wall. His hands frantically searched for a weapon—an iron rod, a bat—anything.
What am I even doing...?
I can't even see what I'm fighting. Could this be Father's ghost? Taking revenge on me? Wait, revenge for… what?
Nothing more could explain this phenomenon; the "ghost" was the only fitting description for the current situation. Many strange occurrences had now become familiar to him, but not this.
He watched in fear, his hands were trembling.
Suddenly, the pen, lying inert moments before, rose. Its metallic click echoed as it began scrawling across the page. Griffin's jaw dropped; lost for words.
The words it wrote were urgent and cryptic:
"Head to Cobblestone Lane, No. 14. On the second floor, find the sixth room, counting from your left. Give a gentle knock on the door, and if asked a riddle, reply 'Marked' and make sure you obtain the rabbit. Sign the b... contract, and it would be with you. Warning: it can speak! But it depends on if you can hear it... Go now!"
Soon after the last word was inscribed, the pen dropped sharply back onto the workbench. The gas lamp suddenly lit up and illuminated the room, while the clock resumed its normal ticking. His surroundings had normalised.
Griffin's eyes darted around the room, filled with uncertainty about whether the "ghost" had truly departed. Slowly, he pushed himself away from the wall, taking cautious steps towards the diary, one step after the other.
I have to be careful; I don't want to receive a slap from an otherworldly being. I'm not even sure if it's even Father! That old man can't possibly have a soul that would still be wandering...
When he was close enough, he used his elbows to shield the sides of his face as he read the hastily written note.
After reaching the end, he dropped his hands, staring at the note in disbelief. His brows furrowed.
"Rabbit? In Cobblestone Lane? Speaking rabbit? That's impossible! Wait, how am I going to get the rabbit and sign a contract, with whom exactly and what kind? I have no money that would be able to afford me a p..."
"Why am I to search for all this!? This has to be Father's soul... he is the only weird one both in the spiritual realm now and when he was alive! I'm very sure he has 97% of haters in hell; the remaining three percent are those wishing to send him back to life so he can get out of their sight. That old man..."
Griffin clicked his tongue three times while shaking his head. He then racked his brain, trying to comprehend the note left behind. His gaze drifted to the window, catching a glimpse of... oh, nothing. Nothing was there.
"Should I just get to it first so I can understand better? Well, meeting with the gang is still till noon - 1 PM." He tilted his head towards the clock.
"This is only 10:45 AM. I should be able to get back before 1 PM... I guess I won't be bathing today..."
Despite today being Worship Day, judging by how people were drinking and inviting friends over, the whole street was bound to be a mess by nightfall. It was certain that the bathroom and toilet would be jammed with a long queue before he returned from both this unconfirmed address mentioned in the note and from Aria, as he might not be able to come straight home after visiting the address.
Quickly, Griffin donned the clothes he'd worn the day before. He slipped on his boots, ripped the page from his diary, and slammed the door shut.
Bam!
Arriving on the street out of his alley, he began sprinting forward.
As Griffin turned and slowed his pace to a walk upon reaching the closest street to Cobblestone Lane, he held the torn page up, reading it through as he walked. He took a turn into the street, searching for the address, No. 14.
After a few brisk strides, he finally found it on his right.
The building was an apartment structure of three levels. Its façade was a blend of dark brick and grimy metal, with steam pipes snaking around the exterior. The windows were framed in wrought iron, some cracked and smeared with dirt, while others were completely boarded up.
A faded sign above the entrance read "Cobblestone Apartments," its letters were barely legible.
Rent for a two-bedroom apartment here was approximately 4000 Gilas per month, with an additional living tax of 100 Gilas. Most residents preferred to live on the streets or in the "gas plants" like where Griffin stayed, as it was more affordable/free.
In the Upper District, however, the same apartment would cost around 20,000 Gilas a month, plus a living tax of 4000 Gilas.
When renting a home or apartment, one didn't deal directly with landlords; instead, they had to meet with the Ironhaven Housing Department. This department was responsible for overseeing all housing matters, ensuring that properties met safety standards.
They conducted thorough inspections of both the premises and the prospective tenants, scrutinising every detail. No one below the age of 20 could acquire a home, a rule enforced strictly by the department.
Two young men stood by the entrance, sharing a tobacco and chatting. They didn't mind Griffin as he walked into the building with a careful gaze.
A staircase led straight up to the second floor; there were no living-in apartments on the first floor, which was more of a hallway, dimly lit by eight gas lamps on each side. The walls were dirty with black oil and coal, poorly maintained, with multiple cracks in both the walls and floor.
The building seemed on the verge of collapse; if the Ironhaven Housing Department ever came for inspection, it would surely be shut down, and the landlord would face a fine of 56,000 Gilas and be required to renovate the property, if not it would face seizure.
The railings on the staircase were unsteady, shaking fervently as Griffin grasped it.
"I think it would be better if I walked without using this... 'cause if I were to fall, instead of this assisting me; it would create a more brutal death that can't be looked at!" he reasoned, releasing his grip from the iron railings.
The stairs were made of concrete, each step was surprisingly intact, leading up 16 steps.
Reaching the 15th step, it creaked ominously beneath him. Griffin looked down and noticed it was completely filled in with a wooden plank. His eyes widened in surprise as a crack ran through the plank.
He instantly leaped to the final step.
"What kind of madness is that? Using a plank to fill in a broken step... that could kill anyone..." He sighed with relief as he stood on the second floor. Anyone attempting to step on that plank again would surely be heading to heaven, as Griffin had already weakened its durability; the second step would surely crack!
"At least, the building is better than where I live; this is actually a paradise if you look at it from the bright side..." Griffin sputtered.
He walked carefully through the dimly lit passageway, searching for the sixth room from his left.
As he counted silently to himself, he finally found the room. Straightening his composure, he cleared his throat and knocked gently on the brown wooden door.
A voice called out from a middle-aged man seated in a single, worn leather chair, wearing only a white vest and his underwear as he scrolled through a newspaper, held steadily in his wrinkled hand.
"Who's at the door!?"
Griffin rifled through his mental list of excuses since the man hadn't asked him a riddle. He couldn't just reply with "Marked"; that would seem awkward. The middle-aged man inside began to grow suspicious after receiving no answer immediately. His eyes turned to the door, and beside him, on a small table, lay a revolver with a wooden grip.
Picking it up, dropping the newspaper, and walking slowly and steadily towards the door, the revolver raised high and aimed.
Griffin found no suitable excuse to explain himself, so he decided to respond with the word but added his own twist, "Are you a merchant? I came to purchase…"
The man lowered the gun slightly and replied in a thick voice, "Don't you know today is Worship Day? There's no trading. Keep off!"
Hastily, Griffin added, "Marked!"
The man tilted his head to the side, raised the gun back high, and aimed. He moved closer to the door and opened it. Outside, Griffin saw the knob turn and the door open inwards, the mouth of the revolver emerging through the slight opening, while Griffin maintained a relaxed and calm expression.
Creakkk!
Then, the man opened the wooden door fully, standing inside with the gun aimed at Griffin. He was a burly figure, with unkempt hair and a scruffy beard, his skin tanned. His grey eyes, sharp and lost, scrutinised Griffin as he took in the boy's appearance.
Griffin grinned, raising both hands in a gesture of peace!
Noticing Griffin's looks and height, the man could tell he was just a lad. He dropped the gun lower and sighed.
"What is a lad like you doing here? This isn't a playground; get out of here!"
He was about to shut the door again when Griffin quickly halted him with a swift motion, gripping the door tightly.
"Wait, I just want to check it out… please!" pleaded Griffin.
I don't want to get another visit from that 'ghost.'
The man gave Griffin a long stare, then shifted his gaze to Griffin's hand on the door. "Get your hands off my door and wait here! As you can see, I'm half-naked!"
Griffin complied instantly, stepping back and clasping his hands together with an awkward laugh. The man shook his head and closed the door.
Creak! Bam!
"Phew. That went smoothly…" he muttered, swiping away the sweat gathering on his brow.
A couple of minutes later, the man emerged, now dressed in a faded blue shirt and a pair of worn trousers, both slightly too big for him. The shirt had frayed edges, and the trousers were held up by a thick belt, giving him a somewhat dishevelled appearance. Griffin smiled and stared at the man.
"Follow me!" he said, leading Griffin to the next room. The man removed a chain of keys dangling from his left pocket. One key was coloured gold; he inserted it into the door lock and turned it, then placed a hand on the knob to open the door.
Entering with Griffin, he closed the door behind them.
Griffin was left in awe by the sheer size of the room. Cages were stacked high against the walls, each one housing a different figure. An unlit gas lamp hung in one corner, with another in the next, initially in all four corners of the room.
A single window allowed sunlight to filter in, casting a bright beam onto the ground, while some corners remained shrouded in darkness. There were about twelve cages in total.
The man began moving around the room, and Griffin could see various types of animals inside each cage—little beasts. Some looked ferocious, with sharp teeth and wild eyes, while others appeared somehow depressed. Can a beast even be depressed? This was Griffin's first time hearing about beasts. They had once been rumoured to be hidden in the shadows of the world beyond the citadel, fleeing from the race of monsters far from the safe zone of the Mugen Continent.
Wow! So, I'm searching for a rabbit! Is a rabbit considered a beast...? Griffin pondered.
Well, if it can talk and has some features distinct from a normal one, it would be classified as a Wondrous Beast... He wondered, searching exclusively for the rabbit, careful not to let the man know of his intent.
The man began explaining about Wondrous Beasts, his tone shifted, revealing a sense of pride. "These creatures are unique," he said. "Their origins are shrouded in mystery, and many believe they are remnants of a forgotten era, wild and untamed. They choose who they offer contracts to, often based on a human's worthiness or potential."
Griffin listened intently, captivated after the mention of a contract, his main confusion in that note.
The man continued, "However, not all Wondrous Beasts have noble intentions. Some are trick lords, known for offering false contracts that ensnare unsuspecting humans, leading them into perilous situations. In some cases, they might even murder their captors after the deal is struck, leaving them no chance to escape."
Griffin's eyes widened at the thought. "But why are they unseen in the city?" he asked.
The man replied, his voice lowering. "Most people are oblivious to their existence, and it has been five years since I last sold one of these creatures. The last sale was to a high official in the Upper District, but I won't disclose the price; let's just say it was substantial."
Griffin felt apprehension.
The man continued, "Now, about the contract. When a Wondrous Beast chooses to offer a contract, it is a binding agreement that grants the human access to the beast's uniqueness in exchange for something of equal value—often a promise. The terms can vary widely; some beasts may require loyalty, while others might demand a specific task or service."
He paused, then continued, "The contract is often inscribed on a special parchment that glows when the beast is near. It must be signed in blood, symbolising the bond between the human and the beast. Without a signed contract, the human cannot speak or understand the words of the beast; the connection is severed."
Griffin's interest deepened. "So once the contract is struck, they can communicate?"
"Precisely," the man confirmed, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "The signing of the contract allows for a shared language, a means of understanding each other's thoughts and emotions. It creates a profound bond that transcends mere words.
"However, the consequences of breaking this contract can be dire. A beast may reclaim things or even exact revenge on the human for betrayal."
Griffin's curiosity was piqued as the man elaborated on the significance of the contracts. Understanding this aspect could be crucial for his 'quest'.
"Not every beast offers a contract willingly," the man added. "Some may test the human's resolve or intentions before deciding whether to proceed. It's a delicate negotiation, and many have failed to secure a deal, leaving them empty-handed."
Griffin shook his head; he understood everything well from the man's simple style of elaboration.
Moving past a cage nestled on the ground, with another stacked on top of it, Griffin suddenly heard a noise.
"Piss. Hey mate. Griffin! Look down here! Piss!"
Griffin was confused about who was calling him, especially as they knew his name. He turned his head back and looked down to see a rabbit's paw fixed to the cage door.
The paw hung over the edge, its claws gripping the metal as if it were trying to pull itself up. The rabbit's eyes were wide, filled with urgency, and it wiggled its nose frantically, calling out to him.
Glancing at the man, Griffin noticed he was momentarily distracted, trying to fix an empty cage door.
Curious, Griffin moved closer to the cage to confirm it was indeed the rabbit as he was out for. Well, this was the only rabbit, so it should be the rabbit.
The creature clasped its front paws together and hopped backwards as Griffin's face came closer to the bars. He cast a quick side glance at the man to ensure he was still preoccupied. Satisfied, he turned back to the rabbit.
"I can understand you? I thought he said only after a contract is signed may I understand you..." Griffin whispered to the rabbit.
The Wondrous Beast, a rabbit, had distinct features that set it apart. Its legs were longer than those of an ordinary rabbit, and its ears were notably elongated. Its fur was pitch black, and a dark flame or shadow flickered around its ears, extinguishing instantly whenever it flapped them.
Turning its back to Griffin, the rabbit began speaking in a low, raspy voice. "Hello, fellow one. I'm your destined beast, and your father has bestowed me upon you.
"Since he is dead, and you being his only next of kin, the contract will be transferred to you, and you are to sign it without any decline. Plus…"
It paused, raising a paw in a 'serious business' manner. "You will get to learn more about all the strange things that might be occurring around you…"
Griffin closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked back at the man, still distracted. He wanted to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating the words being spoken to him.
"Father...?"
A/N: I had a nightmare one night before writing this; a rabbit was hunting me down with a pump-action shotgun. Eventually, I managed to escape into the forest. As I reached a river, emerging from the wooded path, I found the rabbit right in front of me, its pump-action aimed directly at my head.Bam! It shot, and I jolted awake, thrust back into reality...