“Checkmate.”

  “What? Mom… that’s not fair…” Hanna leaned back immediately, pouting.

  Victoria let out a soft laugh, clearly amused by her daughter’s reaction. “Why are you making the same moves over and over? It’s too easy for me to read you.”

  “I don’t want to play anymore. It’s boring. You always win.” Hanna pushed a chess piece with her fingertip, sulking like a small child.

  “I already told you, Hanna… think before you move. Don’t rush your decisions. Otherwise, they’ll come back to hurt you.”

  Hanna shot her a sideways glance. “The problem is I’m playing against you… of course I’m going to lose. Even if I use my brain at full capacity, the result will still be the same.”

  Victoria smiled crookedly. “See that? You give up too quickly. I’ve told you before — don’t lose hope so easily. No matter how disappointed you feel, try again. Work harder.”

  She paused, studying her daughter’s face longer than usual.

  “I won’t always be by your side, sweetheart.”

  Hanna fell silent.

  Then the memory began to shift.

  “Mom…”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “If one day… when I’m older… can I live with you? Just you… forever?”

  Victoria laughed softly. “Of course you can. I’d love it if you stayed by my side all the time.”

  Hanna lowered her head, holding her mother’s hand.

  “You won’t leave me like Dad did… right?”

  The question made Victoria’s smile slowly fade.

  “Hey… why would you say that? Your father didn’t leave you.”

  “Then… where is he now?”

  Victoria went quiet.

  For several seconds, she simply looked at her daughter without answering.

  Because the truth was… she didn’t know what she should say either.

  The memory shifted again.

  “Grow up well, Hanna… and never come looking for me.”

  “MOM!!”

  Hanna jolted awake, her eyes flying open. She was gasping, her chest rising and falling rapidly like someone who had just escaped a nightmare.

  For a few seconds, she only stared at the wooden ceiling above her. Her vision blurred briefly before slowly coming into focus.

  “Oh… you’re awake.”

  The voice made Hanna turn her head sharply to the left.

  An elderly woman was sitting on a chair beside the bed. Her hair was white and tangled, and her face was wrinkled in a strange way — not just from age, but as if something had once distorted her original features.

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  Hanna’s heart started pounding again.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the woman said quickly, her tone gentle. “I found you lying near the riverbank. That’s why I brought you here.”

  Hanna swallowed. Her throat felt dry.

  “W… who are you?”

  The old woman smiled faintly.

  “Just call me Martha. What’s your name?”

  “H… Hanna…”

  The woman nodded slowly several times, as though committing the name to memory.

  “You’re in my house now. You were unconscious for three days. Rest first… your body is still weak.”

  Three days…?

  The words tangled Hanna’s thoughts.

  Suddenly, she remembered something.

  The bear.

  The bite.

  The pain that had torn through her shoulder.

  Instinctively, her hand shot up to grab her right shoulder. She expected sharp pain — but there was none at all.

  Her brow furrowed. Her fingers pressed against her shoulder several times, as if she couldn’t believe it.

  Why doesn’t it hurt…?

  She tried to sit up.

  “Erk…!” she groaned, the back of her body aching sharply, as though the pain reached her bones. Her body fell back onto the thin mattress.

  “Don’t force yourself,” Martha said calmly. “Slowly. If you push too hard, the pain will get worse.”

  Hanna bit her lip, holding back her discomfort. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly several times, trying to calm herself.

  The old woman rose from her chair with slow movements.

  “Wait here. I’ll get you some food. You must be hungry.”

  She walked out of the room, her steps dragging slightly.

  Hanna was left alone.

  Only then did the girl dare to look around.

  The room was small. Old wooden walls. The air smelled damp, mixed with the scent of herbs. Sunlight filtered faintly through a window covered with thin cloth.

  ______

  Meanwhile, outside the room, Martha descended the wooden stairs one step at a time. Each footstep produced a faint creaking sound before her feet reached the lower floor.

  In the dim living room, four men rose almost simultaneously from a worn sofa the moment they saw her. Two of them were still young — perhaps teenagers — while the other two were adults. Each face looked strange in its own way: one crooked, another marked with thick scars across his cheek, another with a mouth that moved unevenly.

  “Huh… huh…” one of them spoke, his tone excited.

  “Yes… yes… she’s awake,” Martha replied softly, her lips lifting slightly.

  The man’s eyes immediately changed — shining with a strange happiness.

  “Huh… huh…” he turned to the others, as if sharing good news.

  The others smiled too, unclear sounds escaping their mouths. They spoke to each other in broken noises, yet it was obvious they understood one another perfectly. Shoulders lifted, hands moved, heads nodded rapidly.

  One of them then looked back at Martha. This time, his face was more serious.

  “Huh… huh…”

  Martha raised her hand slightly, calming them.

  “Be patient… she just woke up. Let her recover first.” Her voice was gentle, almost coaxing. “Later… Mother will let all of you play with her.”

  All four men nodded repeatedly, like children who had just been promised something they wanted.

  “Go outside for now. Don’t make noise in this house,” Martha instructed.

  Without protest, they headed toward the door. But before leaving, one of them glanced back toward the staircase.

  “Huh. Huh.”

  Martha smiled.

  “She won’t run.”

  _____

  Not long after, Martha returned to the room. This time she carried a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of water. Her steps were slow, the floorboards creaking with each one.

  Her lips looked like they were smiling, but the crooked shape of her mouth made the expression unsettling.

  Hanna was still lying down. But as the woman approached, her nose caught an unpleasant smell — rancid, mixed with something almost spoiled. Her brow furrowed. She lifted her head slightly, trying to figure out where the odor was coming from.

  “I brought you some soup. It’s good for restoring your strength,” Martha said, placing the tray on the small table beside the bed.

  Only then did Hanna realize… the smell was coming from the bowl.

  “What kind of soup is that?” Hanna asked quietly.

  “My own recipe. When my sons get sick, I feed them this,” Martha replied proudly.

  Hanna stayed silent for a moment. Her nose instinctively rejected the smell — it was too foul.

  “It smells a little…” She stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

  “You mean it smells bad?” Martha cut in immediately.

  Hanna didn’t answer. She simply looked at the old woman, noticing the subtle change in her expression — the earlier smile was gone.

  “Don’t be picky about food,” Martha said, her voice suddenly sharper. “Just eat what’s given. But if you want something else… you can tell me. I can cook.”

  “It’s okay… I’m not hungry,” Hanna replied quickly.

  “Don’t be like that, Hanna…” Martha sat on the edge of the bed. Her hand suddenly touched Hanna’s stomach, stroking it slowly.

  Hanna’s body stiffened instantly. She was startled by the contact.

  “You need to recover quickly…” Martha continued softly, almost whispering. “Your body is still young… your face is beautiful…”

  Her hand remained there.

  “…my sons can’t wait to see you. But I’m holding them back. I want to make sure you’re completely healed first.”