Chapter 28
The beginning… when was it again?
The ‘first meeting’ holds no significance. Most humans perceive Fiore only as a little creature scurrying around down below. That woman was no exception.
Her hair, a messy brown with gray strands, was tied up in a round bun, resembling a sparrow’s nest.
However, her voice was somewhat intriguing.
She had a naturally soft voice, but there was a sharpness in her tone—a certain tension, as if she constantly strained herself to avoid being ignored.
“There were such folks among the crew too.”
Yet, I never saw those types get what they wanted. Pretending to be strong takes immense effort, and their true nature is quickly revealed.
The circumstances of land dwellers might be softer than those of rough sea folk, but the underlying principles are likely similar.
The second time I saw her, my thought was…
“Fool.”
A strange woman who crawled into the village, clutching her wallet and crying for no reason.
“Just before that, she was chirping away.”
The real issue wasn’t the third meeting but rather something that came out of that idiot Arno’s mouth in between.
He mentioned she was treated like a spectacle.
“That woman?”
She wasn’t someone who drew attention. She was boring. In the face of life’s various conflicts, she seemed to handle everything with ‘indifference’—though internally she might be boiling over—walking her given path with determination.
People like her were destined to live quietly, unnoticed, just as they appeared.
“Without catching anyone’s eye, just as she looks.”
Of course, I know that drawing attention isn’t just about appearances. Such dull and rigid women can surprise people with sudden actions.
Especially last night, when Alice suddenly drenched herself in water and looked at Fiore, the feeling was—
“…I’m hungry.”
His thoughts were interrupted. Suddenly, the smell of blood tickled his senses and stirred his appetite.
“We’re almost there.”
However, there were no delicious prey at this destination.
The source of the blood smell revealed itself to be Arno’s place—the dirtiest among this unwanted guest group.
He expected Arno would cause trouble someday. What he didn’t expect was that Arno was such an idiot that he couldn’t even clean up after himself properly.
“Killing someone doesn’t bother me, but if you can’t even clean up and are letting blood smell linger, that’s another story.”
Fiore broke open the lock and entered the building. The source of the blood smell was an unclaimed body rolled up in clothes and straw in a corner of the storage room.
Fiore lifted the half-buried corpse without arms and marveled at its condition.
“That guy has better skills than I thought.”
Deep cuts were made on the neck and groin areas where arteries were located, stuffed tightly with straw. The blood had dried, but it seemed to be an effort to prevent bodily fluids from leaking out as the corpse decomposed and stank.
Well, it wouldn’t work on Fiore anyway.
This part—the actual murder—was Arno’s handiwork.
Fiore gathered up pieces of the body and carried them out of the holding area. Under the moonlight, the surgeon’s skills were revealed: clean cut marks where limbs used to be and smooth vertical lines cutting through what had once been a ruptured abdomen.
How much effort did it take to acquire such skills?
Whoever did this must’ve pored over hundreds of pages of anatomy books. Probably practiced on their relatives’ bones, even. Thanked the deceased donors for their cadavers as they learned how to save lives.
…But that probably wasn’t all there was to it.
They’d have bribed gravediggers to unearth fresh bodies. Bought the corpses of the poor—the more destitute the better. Medical practitioners like that tended to boast about their experience dissecting the most gruesome of remains.
Some might call that an overzealous pursuit of knowledge, but really? Does cutting up a few corpses perfect your learning? How does importing rare disease patients preserved in formaldehyde help any part of science?
And those organs displayed in doctors’ offices—was that really just for education?
Nathan and Alice—if those two were like such folks…
Then, like this poor messenger in Fiore’s hands, they wouldn’t be far from death.
Empty stomachs, drained bodies—
“Ah, I win!”
Someone laughed heartily. Fiore snapped back from his thoughts and looked around his surroundings.
Behind him stood a resident still struggling to adjust to life on land, laughing while holding her belly; next to her was another resident frowning as he was dragged along by his friend.
Fiore clicked his tongue.
“You guys made another bet about a resident again?”
“We bet on whether you could stand the smell of blood or not! I told you, right? Fiore can never stand it!”
He playfully slapped his friend’s shoulder while he laughed.
The resident named Doki said slowly with droopy eyes,
“I thought you would just let it go; Fiore, you can always run away until the corpse rots away and come back later.”
“…”
“You could go anywhere.”
She didn’t stop at just words but pointed towards both land and sea; perhaps her gesture looked like a sign telling him to leave entirely.
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, a voice called out from far below, as if to remind everyone that this place was a cliffside.
“Is anyone there?! Please, someone help me! There’s a survivor here!”
The desperate, tearful plea rang out, only to fade into silence.
Moments later, the voice perked up, lively and excited.
“I found the wrecked ship’s storage! Someone bring me a hammer! Something is shining through the crack in the door!”
All three residents’ eyes sharpened at once; among them, Doki opened her mouth lowly as a growl formed on her large tongue.
“What should we do now?”
Before she could bark, Fiore threw the corpse he was holding.
The large body flew lightly like a pebble.
Thud, thud… As the sound of the impact was swallowed by the sea, the area beneath the cliff returned to silence.
Doki, who was about to bark, suddenly turned around.
“Scaredy-cats. Tarok, if you’ve seen enough, let’s go inside.”
“Already going in?”
“It’s night. You need to get used to living during the day.”
“Since we’re out anyway, how about we bet on which of the three guests will die first? Fiore can join too!”
Tarok, excited, trembled with enthusiasm. However, his betting suggestion quickly fell flat.
“Of course it would be Arno. Those who think they’re capable die quickly.”
“I agree.”
“Oh, I thought it would be Arno too! But think differently, you guys!”
“If you want to win, just go ahead and commit robbery, Tarok.”
Doki pulled Tarok along. Despite his grumbling, Tarok rubbed his head against his friend’s broad shoulder and purred.
Doki understood what kind of emotion this expression from a friend meant and patted his head gently.
Before the shadows of the two residents disappeared into the darkness, Fiore spoke up.
“Hey, cat. Want to make a bet?”
Tarok stopped and replied.
“You mean betting on who will die next? Are you changing who we pick?”
“No. Let’s change the content of the bet… What if one of the three survives?”
“Hah!”
Doki, who had been quiet, scoffed at that.
“Not ‘who can last the longest,’ but ‘who survives’? Did I hear that wrong?”
“You heard right.”
“Is there anyone here who seems like they would settle down?”
“No.”
“Do you really believe there’s someone among them who is innocent? That’s an even crazier belief.”
“That’s why it’s interesting. If I win, something might actually change. Aren’t you tired of bets where nothing changes?”
It wasn’t just about betting. For the past ten years, things had been consistent in Reki: newcomers either died or left only to die outside while residents continued living their same lives in their holding areas as always.
Doki shook her head.
“Don’t drag us into your wishful thinking, you annoying brat.”
She refused the bet and started trudging into the darkness first. Tarok followed behind and said,
“Ten years is long enough to drive someone mad.”
Fiore didn’t argue back.
Right?
He had thought that these new guests would die too, so why was he suddenly saying such things?
‘Have I really gone mad?’
The three guests were steadily walking toward their doom.
…But there was one thing.
‘Stop looking!’
Alice’s scream still echoed painfully in her head.
The woman who ended up on display for everyone to see as a result of her best efforts in choosing.
What kind of life she had lived was unknown.
But for someone who has experienced pain… perhaps her world was a bit different.
Lifting his white shirt, Fiore touched the scattered gray spots on her back. It was the first time someone had told him he was “beautiful,” and at the same time, that “evaluation” served as a reminder that it could lead to pain.
As his hand ran across his back like crossing a stepping stone, it soon reached a scar…
‘…Damn.’
To escape from the memories of blades digging into his body, Fiore dashed down the hill and threw himself off the cliff’s edge.
The cold sea embraced Fiore as always.
The village faded away; for a moment, screams swirled around him before disappearing into the surface of the water.
“Please come help!”
“There’s treasure here!”
