EPISODE 2
Even back then, Agat’s hair was long. It was fuller, perhaps, than it is now, but it was certainly coarse.
Ian had always wanted Agat to wear her hair up in a bun, believing it made her a well-groomed and presentable ornament.
So every morning, Agat woke up and brushed her hair like a well-taught young lady. Each strand of hair caught in the comb caught the sunlight and suddenly looked golden.
Agat would look at it and smile a little. Ian’s hair was even more beautiful, she thought to herself as she ran her hands through it, hoping that one day her hair would be as fine as his.
For now, Agat looked quite demure. She was a fine young woman. Mrs. Martinez had been pleased until Agat ran away to the army and met Ian.
Agat’s red, alien eyes slept softly beneath her eyelids, and she never uttered a sharp word. She was relatively calm and undemanding.
She was an extremely obedient subordinate. Agat did whatever Ian ordered her to do. All of this, along with the soldierly gestures and courtesies she had learned, had come from Ian’s touch.
Agat stood firmly at his back, his head bowed, and he remembered clearly the voice telling him how to kill and handle people efficiently.
He remembered the feel of Ian’s white gloves as they slipped lightly around his waist, and he could hear his voice in the back of his mind as he leaned in, his lips almost touching his ear, delivering his words of instruction.
Then the sensation of all the rainwater rushing in made Agat squeeze her eyes shut. Pale and shaking, Agat shuddered unworthily. Mitchell’s voice boomed from the top of the pit.
Ian was arrogant and arrogant, with a temper that could be described as tyrannical, and yet the people had always put Agat in front of him, trusting that she would appease him.
When Agat’s name was on the tip of their tongues, Ian spoke to her very tenderly, as if she were a child. With his cool hand on her cheek, she was happy as death. What Ian had to offer lifted Agat’s spirits.
“Listen to me, Agat. If I die, you’re free.”
Free. Agat mulled over the words.
The word freedom was too far away. When she lowered her gaze, unsure of what to do, Ian spoke again, more forcefully.
“Now, do you know what to do when I die?”
His voice was so uncharacteristically soft.
From then on, Ian urged Agat to repeat his words, but Agat could say nothing. She remained as stiff as a well-crafted statue until Ian clicked his tongue.
It couldn’t be Ian’s heart.
Freedom, he would never allow his possession the freedom to be anything but happy.
At least, that’s what Agat believed, and if he’d confided in someone, that person would have sided with him.
Ian was not one to let go of something once he had it; he was thorough, and he didn’t do what other foolish leaders did. His temper was cold, but he hid it well.
The citizens of Lehart loved their commander. Ian was respected by the common people. He was more popular than the queen herself.
And now, still, nothing came to Agat’s mind.
It was stupid.
It was a terrible thing.
Agat took a deep breath and smoothed the hem of her dress.
She was no longer a dainty young lady, and even with her freedom, as Ian had said, she was gripped by an unknown terror.
Whether this was indeed his body, or if he was still alive, she had to have him.
His hands clawed at the air, trembling intermittently.
Agat stooped down deep into the coffin, grabbed Ian’s body, and lifted him. He was thicker than he had been when Agat had held him.
Mitchell scrambled down to join him, but Agat shook her head.
He reached down and traced a pulse over the cold, clear skin, and there was a faint breath.
Suddenly, Agat realized, this was all good.
Mitchell and Agat crawled out of the pit. Jet, hands in his pockets and looking disgruntled, helped Agat anyway. They managed to get Ian to the surface.
Mitchell was breathing heavily next to Agat and asked.
“Are you sure you want to take Ian?”
The words were tinged with concern for Agat, her head spinning dizzily. Her breathing shortened, a chill stabbing at her lungs. Agat opened her mouth to speak, then blurted out.
“There’s another hidden room in my room. No one will come in, it’s a dirt pit and long abandoned. I know how to clean it, and Ian can stay there.”
“That’s not what you’re saying!”
Mitchell breathed out in frustration.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing? This man is an enemy of the Revolutionaries, and not that I don’t know your situation, but you might as well put him to sleep for good. I was going to cover it up again today.”
Jet stood by, unable to interrupt. Agat fidgeted.
“I’ll take care of it. Go have dinner with Jett.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“For God’s sake, get a grip. It’s none of your business anymore.”
“…….”
“You know how horrible that asshole is! One order and everyone’s dead. He doesn’t value human life as much as a rat’s ass.”
Ian had been dead for ten years.
From that day on, Agat broke away from the military and joined the Revolutionaries. Mitchell was the one who took her in when she had nowhere else to go. “I know,” Agat said as calmly as she could.
“I know.”
“He might kill you. This man deserves it. Listen to me.”
Mitchell wasn’t wrong, but Agat was still stubborn.
“I know.”
Mitchell spat out a hollow laugh in response.
“Don’t ask me to help you later. It’s none of your business with me.”
“Yeah.”
Agat replied with a surprising lack of emotion.
Finally, Mitchell shut up and stomped off in annoyance. Jet stood there for a moment, then went inside without saying goodbye to Agat.
All that remained was the hem of Agat’s robe flapping in the wind, the now-empty coffin, and the waves lapping at the shore beyond.
Agat ran a hand through her windswept hair and chewed her lip hard.
I should stop being so impulsive.
Pretending to be a crazy woman made me feel like I was going crazy. Playing the maniac certainly masked the fact that she was participating in a revolution, but it wasn’t pleasant.
But Agat refused to think about it and just kept walking in silence. He could feel his feet sinking into the sand under the added weight of the man.
* * *
It wasn’t until they brought Ian home and laid him down deep in his room that Agat realized his leg was twisted the wrong way. He must have been injured, Agat muttered under her breath.
She collected herself and dressed without the help of a maid.
All the while, Ian was still breathing only faintly, and his temperature showed no sign of rising despite Agat’s steady rubbing and rubbing of his arm.
So Agat brought him a glass of warm water and a book and leaned carefully against him. The white, rounded hem of her skirt covered both of Ian’s hands.
By the time she was halfway through the paragraph, it was midnight. The wind was howling against the windows, and the lights in the manor were dying down, one by one, and when she looked out the window, she saw nothing but a vast expanse of open fields.
Agath suddenly wondered how she was going to change Ian’s clothes, but before she could do so, she felt a movement behind her.
A weak moan leaked out.
Agat pulled on her cloak and whirled around quickly. The dead Ian’s eyes were open.
He opened his dry mouth and whispered.
“Am I dreaming?”
Agat was at a loss for words.
His voice cut to the very center of her heart, sending a shiver through her body.
So instead of speaking in Moorish, she moved closer, sat down, and gingerly took his hand in hers. The white, stiff gloves Ian had once worn were just as she remembered them. The irregular grain of the gloves scratched her skin roughly. Agat felt a pang of nostalgia.
Ian’s gaze followed her everywhere, and she could hear him swallow hard.
“……Where’s Rehardt?”
“…….”
“What is this place?”
“It’s been a while.”
Ian immediately shut up. It was funny, but Agat liked it.
It was as if Agat was dizzy at the sound of Ian’s voice, and so was he. It was as if he had been dizzy at the sound of Ian’s voice, and so Agat spoke up.
“You’ll have to stay with me for a while, even if it’s uncomfortable. It’s winter, so it’ll be cold, but that’s okay, I’ll take care of you. But you’ll have to be quiet and don’t make any noise. More than that, Ian.”
Agat stopped pouring out his words and looked at Ian carefully. When the white pupils met in a moment of clarity, Agat frowned.
“……Do you even remember me?”
Ian whispered, sounding both suspicious and delighted.
“Agat?”
It was as if he recognized Agat for the first time.
All rights reserved. Copying, reproducing, modifying, or distributing this work may result in criminal penalties and civil liability.
