Eunha rose to her feet and gazed at the wooded columns casting their long shadows across the floor of the woods. She decided she would have fun with Sungyeol before her game ended by dangling her beauty before him- to see how he would react when her hips swayed as she walked and when her hair bounced on her shoulders with every step.

  "Would you care to join me for a walk around the forest?" Her silver voice rang with a lyrical charm.

  With a small grunt, Sungyeol stood up and patted the dirt and dead foliage off his pants. "I'd love to, Eunha." He had already walked a couple of miles from the train station to reach the country, but the feeling of physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the world-weariness that had been dragging at his feet for some time now. He came here to breathe, move, and shake his limbs. He came here because he wanted to feel joy again, not sit depressed and defeated by a fatalistic sense of being destined to suffer and only suffer. It was only natural for him to oblige Eunha's invitation for a stroll.

  While on their saunter through the wooded avenues, they indulged in the sacred tones played by the greatest musician of all, nature. Birds sang their resonant tunes, tremulous whistles that drifted in the air. Leaves rustled, and the winds sighed and moaned at times as the pair passed between the lofty poplars. An hour or so transpired in this golden silence.

  The witch thought that by now, Sungyeol would have attempted an advance on her. He had not. Something other than lust marked his face. It was an awe: he seemed completely attuned to the sounds of the forest, to its distinct song. Being so, Eunha's curiosity was aroused. What manner of life did he lead that would make him so sensitive to the simple wonders found in nature?

  "Do you feel the magic flowing through your veins and into your heart?" she asked softly, her words nearly a whisper.

  "Yes, I do, Eunha." His succinct reply was spoken with a meditative air. "I feel the wonder spread through my fingertips and into my toes." A pleasant, satisfied smile was on his face, along with a special shine in his eye. "This is why I wandered in here in the first place." His smile changed into a smirk. "Better than the ones I paint. Nothing compares with the real deal."

  Ah! He was a painter. That explained his deep admiration of nature. Eunha did a little smirk of her own, hiding it in the shadow of her flowing, dark hair.

  "I am sure you paint splendid trees, Sungyeol."

  "Well..." Sungyeol bore a strange expression. A thin smile, with eyes cast down as in shame or disappointment- it all produced an effect that furthered the witch's curiosity.

  "I'm sure I do, but I don't get paid to paint trees," Sungyeol added with a hint of irony.

  "I am certain that whatever it is you paint comes out beautiful." Eunha could tell Sungyeol was hiding something, and she wanted to draw it out, albeit naturally, by conversation and not by sorcery. It was more fun that way.

  Again, the forced grin visited his countenance. He appeared to be on the verge of speaking but hesitated. A type of guilt could be seen spreading through his features. He glanced at her and then darted his eyes to the ground. "I paint women- mostly women. For the pulps." Sungyeol regretted confessing just then, but guilt had driven him to say what he might otherwise have kept to himself. He felt he did not deserve Eunha's compliment; he felt his paintings could never truly be "beautiful."

  "Do you feel shame for doing so? You are not the first to incorporate into art, nor will you be the last."

  "It's not the same." Sungyeol stopped walking. "It's nigh ography. There's no grace, no purpose to it- it's just meant to sell stories with even seedier content. There's beauty to classical nudes, but mine are just cheap; mine are wrong." Then, realizing he had gone on a little rant, he apologized and forced a slight chuckle in an attempt to dispel the awkward atmosphere. "I think too much sometimes," he added with a bit more sincerity.

  The witch interlaced her dainty fingers together behind her and fixed her round eyes on Sungyeol.

  "I commend your courage for sharing your thoughts, Sungyeol. But I was not offended by the idea of painting figures. And I think you should not be so quick to dismiss your work simply because it might contain what may be considered vulgarity. Should a person judge and scold you for painting nudes for your livelihood? That person is more vulgar than anything you might depict."

  He glanced at the sunshine spreading across the orange and golden leaves, lighting those parts with a supernal glow. The autumnal weather was pleasant. A subtle cold was carried by the winds, but the late noon sun brought a relaxing warmth. There was validity to what Eunha said, he felt, but a part of him could not fully accept the notion, at least not so readily.

  "I'll keep that in mind," the painter laconically replied. "But why don't you tell me about yourself?" he asked, thinking it was only fair to listen to anything she might have to say since she was so attentive to him speaking. "Who exactly is Eunha? Is everything well in life?" His attention was riveted to her fair countenance; he was awaiting her reply with a genuine interest.

  The witch tilted her small head. She had perfectly hidden all her thoughts behind a wide grin and fluttering eyelashes. But it astonished her to think he had actually inquired about her wellbeing. The witch could not even remember the last time a person asked about how she was doing. It was out of courtesy, she told herself. However, she also saw the sincere look on his face as he waited for her answer. He seemed earnestly curious about who she was, and it left an impression on her.

  "Life is quite fine. No reason for it not to be," the witch answered. "I am just an ordinary girl who lives with her aging mother. But look at the trees, Sungyeol," she said, signaling several poplars with her hand. "They stand tall and proud above all the earth and are never moved by the trouble below. We should learn from them."

  He nodded approvingly. "What a thought! But, remember, Eunha." There was a light humor in his voice as he continued, saying, "Trees aren't human. They don't have the problems we have." Then he grinned and, in a thoughtful tone, added, "We have actual hearts. We feel."

  She paid heed to his words and nodded as he had done. Feel? Hearts? It would take more than Sungyeol's comment to change her settled approach to humans, but it, along with his moral quandary, alluded to the notion that men might possess more than rudimental consciousness.

  The two walked further down the woods, and golden leaves fell gently before their path from on high. Colonnade upon colonnade of trees dominated their vista. As they walked, the question Sungyeol had asked arose in thought and began to pester her. Who was she, truly? A witch? An immortal? A daughter rejected by her family and friends centuries ago? Nevertheless, in the background of all the probing questions, she held fast to the conviction that she was a witch, and only a witch- a witch that would live until The End of All. There was no questioning that; it had to be law for her. Otherwise, trouble would ensue.

  The red sun was dipping below the horizon, and as a result, the shadows cast by the lofty trees grew thicker. Day was past, and the gloaming hour had arrived. Sungyeol paused almost abruptly and turned to look at Eunha. He was much taller than her, and so his shadow fully draped over her. Her eyes shone with a glimmer in the semi-darkness.

  "What is it, Sungyeol?" She knew he was preparing to leave. However, that was out of the question. That was not part of her game, but there was more to it. He had made her think, and that was more than any of her visitors had ever done. Who had asked about who she was, but Sungyeol? Not even she had asked the question before. Sungyeol made for an intriguing character, and ultimately, she wanted to know more about him and, secretly, without being entirely conscious of it, to know more about herself through him.

  The patch of sky above them, through which shone the twilight, showed thick masses of steel-colored clouds billowing by.

  "Eunha," Sungyeol said after glancing up. "I want to thank you for the trip around the woods." He paused in thought briefly. "And also for the small chat we had. I have to leave, but I'd like to come back and visit sometime soon, if that is all right with you."

  The disembodied souls that roved the forest began to huddle together around the two of them, which meant that in that specific part of the woods, it became profoundly dark, darker than any other part of the forest. The air grew brisk, and gusts of wind blew by with a howling cry.

  The witch stared around her. Her liquid eyes locked with the painter's. "Sungyeol, it is already much too dark. I think it might be wiser for you to stay with my mother and I for the evening and return to the city tomorrow. You will get lost otherwise. Even I, at times, get lost during nights like these, and it will only get darker, I fear."

  There was a hint of impatience in his eyes as he looked down at her. "Forgive me, Eunha. I must return home. I have to turn in an important commission in the morning, and I just need a few more touch-ups before I can call it finished. Without this check, I could end up in the streets!"

  She reached for his arm and pulled him close to herself. Eunha quite clearly heard the urgency in his almost-pleading voice, and, for a brief instant, part of her felt she should let him go, but she could not. She did not want to. Furthermore, with how time passes by differently here in contrast to the outside world, many days, months even, had passed since the time Sungyeol first entered The Invisible Woods. It was in vain that he would run home; it was already too late for him to finish that painting and cash that desperately needed check.

  Sungyeol vented a deep breath through his nostrils. He thought he saw something like despair flash in her eyes. He darted his eyes all about him and found himself agreeing with how intensely dark it had gotten. Even in the midst of the gloom, he could see the girl had taken on an expression of worry.

  He was unsure what to do. He needed to leave, but felt he should not. He felt that it would be wrong to leave Eunha the way she was, with eyes glassy and opened wide in expectation. Concern was written on her face, concern for him and his welfare, he asserted. Also, he had an impression on his mind that he could not shake off- that this might possibly be the last time they meet should he leave her then.

  The air circled around them with a cold that was like the first breath of winter, sending a shiver down the spine of the painter. He swallowed his spit hard, knowing he was about to make a mistake, but did so anyway, telling himself it would be a greater mistake to leave his new friend in the state she was in.

  "I think you may be right." He took several glances at their surroundings, letting his eyes rest on a patch of sky that was barely visible above, and gave an approving nod. "It is very dark, and I think I see storm clouds gathering."

  With Eunha decreasing the intensity of her grasp, he slipped his hand out and raised a finger to scratch his chin. With a playful bow, intending to ease her concern over him, he said, "Show me the way, miss."

  She smiled so widely that he felt compelled to return the smile, and a short laugh escaped from both of them. In that short moment, Eunha might have felt tempted to believe her own lie. To forget that she was incredibly ancient and think herself young once more, at the age when dreams seem possible and the world is something in the palm of the hand. Perhaps it was the sharp air that bore an invigorating quality, or who knows, but she felt alive. Yes, perhaps she might have wanted to believe her lie, but she did not. After all, there were grave implications to face should she forget she was a witch, should she waiver in her convictions, and thus lose herself in doubt.

  Quite the pair they were, as they walked side by side together. A poor painter, barely able to make ends meet, who often let himself be carried by his thoughts, and a miserable witch who was undying but who was never truly living, unsatisfied with all.