Marvel’s Shadowed Knight

Sitting on the stairs, Sarah watched as her mother once again turned down a suitor, her young face devoid of any expression.

"Sarah! Go back to your room and finish your homework. No dinner until it's done."

Sarah didn't respond, merely turned around and went straight back upstairs.

Although the daughter was fairly obedient, communication between mother and daughter remained strained. Back in her room, Mrs. Black once again held a photo of her husband, silently grieving. The camera deliberately avoided showing the husband's face.

"Black, what should I do? I need help. Our daughter's problems are getting worse. Fear has become a part of her daily life, and she keeps saying strange things I can't understand. What should I do, Black?"

Mrs. Black went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. Like many Americans, she turned to alcohol when distressed, a path that could easily lead to alcoholism—especially disastrous for a single-parent household. Stories of alcoholics beating their own family members to death weren't uncommon.

Fortunately, the single mother in this story still showed some strength. Though the bottle was opened and the glass set out, she stopped short of drinking. A dark, gloomy figure appeared outside the kitchen.

"Mrs. Black, you shouldn't do this. Drinking will only make things worse. And once you're drunk, even you won't know what you might do to your daughter."

Black leaned against the kitchen doorframe. He didn't try to stop her forcefully, just offered a gentle warning.

"Black, am I really that useless? Wanting to drink just to escape everything..."

Mrs. Black put the glass and bottle back in place, as though summoning all her strength to brace herself at the sink. She turned on the water and splashed her face to snap out of it.

They returned to the living room. Mrs. Black curled up on the couch, her legs folded beneath her. Though her posture was alluring, her expression was full of sorrow.

"Sarah's behavior is getting scarier. Maybe I should call a priest from the church to come take a look."

Her head rested on the armrest, gaze directed at Black—but her eyes seemed unfocused.

"I don't think it's that serious yet. Sarah still seems like a lively girl most of the time. Maybe I can talk to her. I haven't had much writing inspiration lately anyway, so I've got plenty of free time."

Black turned his head shyly when Mrs. Black looked at him, seemingly uncomfortable making eye contact with women.

"I just hope Sarah gets better. If she keeps this up, I'll go insane first."

Mrs. Black closed her eyes, somewhat reassured. Anxiety, exhaustion, and sorrow had drained her, and she soon fell asleep.

Black sat uneasily. No one was asking him to leave, but the awkward atmosphere practically pushed him out the door.

He gently picked up a blanket and covered the sleeping woman before quietly leaving.

Upstairs, Sarah was diligently working on her homework. Various test papers were scattered haphazardly across her desk.

"Sarah, can we talk?"

Black came to the door and knocked gently.

"No! I still have a ton of homework to finish—Mom's orders. And... who are you?"

Sarah kept scribbling furiously while she spoke. It was clear she had no idea who Black was.

Black shook his head with a wry smile. He really was invisible.

"I'm the tenant living in your basement. My last name is also Black. Your mom told me about you, and I'm curious—what's going on with you that's making her so distressed?"

Without entering the room, Black stayed at the door. If the little girl kicked him out, he'd have no choice but to leave.

"You wouldn't understand. I can see ghosts. Do you believe me?"

Sarah stopped writing and turned to face him. Her golden eyes shone brightly as they locked onto Black's. Sharing such a secret, she needed to know she would be believed—otherwise, there was no point in continuing.

"You know, I'm a novelist. So ghosts, spirits, and other supernatural things—I do believe in them. But we still need to approach things rationally. How can you be sure what you're seeing is a ghost or a spirit?"

Black was trying to communicate. Talking with children could be even more exhausting than talking with adults.

"So you do believe in the supernatural?"

Sarah looked genuinely happy to have found someone who might understand her.

"Yes, I believe such things exist. The question is, how do we identify them?"

Black gave a cautious answer, but it seemed the little girl only wanted to hear the part she liked.

"You should go. I still have lots of homework to do, or I won't get dinner."

With a hint of happiness, the little girl continued scribbling away on her test paper. In this slightly better mood, even the dull homework seemed easier to handle.

Alright then—there seemed to be some progress between the two of them. Blake didn't want to jeopardize that. Clearly, this wasn't a good time to talk, so he quietly left Sarah's room.

"It seems this child can communicate. Next, I'll have to observe her behavior from the sidelines."

Muttering to himself, Blake left the second floor and returned to the basement below.

Later that evening, Blake entered the living room. Mrs. Blake and her daughter Sarah had already finished dinner. As a tenant, his meals weren't included anyway. Not that he was planning to eat—Blake simply lay down on the sofa Mrs. Blake had just been resting on. He was prepared to wait quietly through the night for something to happen.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep. Blake was awakened by the faint sound of crying from upstairs. It was clearly Sarah's voice. Could it be that the little girl was having a nightmare? The sound was soft, not loud enough to wake Mrs. Blake in the other room.

"Sarah! Are you alright?"

Blake pushed open the door. Surprisingly, it wasn't locked. The room was dimly lit by a flashlight, and Sarah was kneeling on the bed, wrapped in a blanket.

Religious symbols covered the room, casting eerie shadows under the beam of the flashlight. But aside from that, there were no signs of any supernatural activity.

Blake stood at the doorway for a moment to assess the situation before walking over to the bed.

"Sarah! Sarah! Wake up! Were you having a nightmare?"

He gently patted her shoulder, unsure whether the little girl was sleepwalking.

"He appeared… A man who just died showed up in my room. He wanted to tell me something, but I was so scared. I didn't want to see his face. It was terrifying—so terrifying."

Sarah didn't seem to be sleepwalking. She was clearly wide awake and holding a tape recorder in her hands.

"What did 'he' say to you? Do you know who he is?"

Blake needed to determine whether Sarah had truly encountered something paranormal. That meant he had to ask in detail—even if it felt like rubbing salt in a wound.

"I don't know what he wanted to say. I didn't want to hear him speak. It was just too scary—far too scary."

Sarah shoved the tape recorder into Blake's hands and wrapped herself tightly in the blanket. Clearly, she didn't want to talk anymore. After a while, still sobbing intermittently, the little girl fell asleep.

Blake watched her closely. Her reaction didn't seem faked. She was genuinely frightened. Blake resolved to investigate further.

Holding the tape recorder, he returned to the basement and began replaying the audio over and over.

All through the night, Blake listened tirelessly. Aside from Sarah's gasps, questioning, and sobbing, there were no other sounds. Was it just the little girl's nightmare? Or perhaps an elaborate prank?

Morning came. Outside, the sky had brightened. Mrs. Blake was preparing breakfast for her daughter and would soon be driving her to school.

Blake decided he would accompany Sarah to school today and observe her throughout the day. Some children face bullying at school but don't tell the adults at home, which could explain the nightmares.

"Mrs. Blake, I'd like to go to school with Sarah today and stay the whole day. If anything happens, I'll let you know."

Blake still seemed a bit shy in front of Mrs. Blake, speaking while avoiding eye contact.

"Sarah, at school—"

Before they got in the car, Mrs. Blake asked, clearly worried.

"I'll be fine at school. Don't worry, Mom."

Sarah didn't seem eager to talk to her mother, answering coldly with a stony expression. That, too, left Mrs. Blake feeling a bit hurt.

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