Heat, dense and heavy like a woolen blanket, smothered the city. The slate grey sky hung ominously overhead, threatening to unleash torrents of rain upon the cobbled streets below. Alice had not seen Mother Turtle in days—the news of her friend Fung's disappearance had been repeated on the television like a broken record, each newscaster's voice an echo of pretended concern.
Alice felt insignificant here in this strange world; a discomforting reminder that she was still an outsider. She drifted to a photo hanging on the wall above the aged wooden dining table, its dark, varnished surface scarred with years of use. In it, she beheld a young couple—lovers—with faces blurred out into obscurity. Though their identities were unknown, the girl's smile brimmed with life, her eyes shining like stars in the night sky.
Then Alice noticed the boy, and her heart raced inexplicably at his likeness. He was tall and thin, no more than eighteen years-old, with big black eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets of life within them. His features conveyed a sense of maturity too profound for his age, but also shrouded him in a veil of sadness. As curiosity occupied her fully, weariness began to lead her into deep sleep.
In her dream, Alice walked through an aging one-floor building where an Asian woman dressed in graceful traditional garb sat in front of a mirror brushing her long hair. The fabric of her dress shimmered like a midnight pond, reflecting the soft glow of a lantern. A servant rushed inside, uttering words that Alice could not decipher, her eyes wide with urgency. Then the Asian girl departed by train to an unknown destination and woke Alice from her dream with tears in her eyes. An emptiness as her soul got sucked out into darkness, a sadness far more intense and distinctive than anything Alice had felt before, including the death of Snowy.
"Where is that girl going? Why is she leaving?" Although the girl was only a dream, she somehow knew that the girl's departure was not a journey of joy, but separation. The sound of the train's whistle still echoed in her ears, a mournful farewell that would haunt her for a long time.
The old turtle mother reentered their flat, sensing the sadness that seemed to beat within Alice like a second heart. Her eyes, clouded with secret, filled with empathy. "You felt it too?"
Alice nodded, covering her weeping eyes. "But who is that girl?"
"It was truly a tragic affair," old lady continued." The name of the girl is Claus. She was the girl who was sent to the Gatekeeper to lure him. And of course, she did not tell him that she had already promised demon of their arrangement."
Alice's eyes widened. "Demons forced Claus away from Gatekeeper, leaving him alone and bereft. She could imagine the only thing the Gatekeeper was left with, was a pain that pulsed within his sour heart, and tears for a love that was ripped from him." She continued to listen to the older woman of her tale. "After Claus left the Gatekeeper, she was captured by hordes of demons and subjected to public humiliation. When he found out her capture, he pleaded for heaven's aid, none came forth—the gods chose to ignore his plight. Alone and desperate, with rage, he tore down the walls between Heaven and Hell, forever changing the diplomatic landscape. The forces of Hell and fire scorched everywhere, its minions claiming never to be compromised or contained. The world descended into chaos. Then, as Teller of the North prophesied the Gatekeeper's return—and so began a new hunting game."
Alice gasped in realization. She understood why everyone had stared at her as if she were a virus. "Is that why I'm in danger?" she asked.
Mother Turtle nodded solemnly; her aged face etched with trace of worry. "Yes, but I know a clerk who is trained in the way of holiness. He can tell you more; his name is Grand Master Kwon. He will be here this afternoon."