Darling I always knew that we were doomed
Bam had spent most of his teenage years and early adulthood training hard. His body had been broken and put back together time after time, each time faster than the last, and it almost gave others the impression that he was immortal. The most romantic souls of FUG argued in favour of this theory claiming that their God’s true soulmate was their fight, their resistance against Jahad, and therefore it would refuse to let him wither.
Bam never believed such thing. Perhaps if Rachel had still been around, if the first years in FUG hadn’t covered his hands in blood, he would believe it. Even as a coping mechanism. However, now, when all was said and done, Bam had seen himself bleed too many times to know that he was a mere mortal.
A mere mortal whose throat has been cut.
Bam had closed his eyes with only that thought in his head—and perhaps to a smaller extent, he also thought about piercing blue eyes—and he was surprised to find himself waking up with it having never left.
He was in a field. Bam had never been to the countryside, FUG didn’t exactly plan annual road trips, but the scene felt familiar. Perhaps that was the Heaven some people spoke of. Bam stood up, his head feeling dizzy, and looked around. Suddenly, not much farther from him, he saw a figure. An angel. A Guardian of the Tower. Whoever the person was, Bam felt his feet carrying him to them before he could process it.
The figure, a girl with pale blue hair and a black gown, did not seem to mind him as he approached. The Tower, it seemed, had made sure Bam would come in contact with more members of the Khun family in a single week than he had in all his years. “I’m sorry.” He told the figure who remained silent. He meant to speak it as a question, to get her attention, but his voice had come off as apologetic. His head screamed ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again and Bam had realized that he no longer held any control over his body.
The girl turned around with a stoic expression. The longer he looked at her the more she seemed like the man who had killed him—they bore the same emotionless expression, even if he had seen the man’s eyes sparkle hours before the event—or perhaps like Kiseia when she was in a bad mood. Khuns, it appeared, tended to not wear their hearts on their sleeves.
Suddenly, the girl smiled. “When have empty apologies brought back what’s six feet under?” she asks as the scenery changes into a small dark room. The girl is now hanging from the ceiling, her eyes closed, a noose around her neck and Bam feels as small as when Rachel left him. Before he has the chance to move, he hears muffled screams. He wants to turn around but his body won’t obey and the sound keeps getting more distorted.
“Wake up,” he manages to make out a plea. He doesn’t seem to recognize the voice. Deep down, like a sixth sense, he thinks the person doesn’t talk to him. And then, as his head is filled with static noises, the ‘wake up’ has turned into a different sound. “Bam.”
Bam’s eyes fly open.
.
Ha Yura lives in an eccentric and extravagant house. Its walls are covered with painted stars and there are picture frames in almost every corner. It’s a tacky place that should normally belong to a teenager rather than an esteemed member of the Ha family. Still, Maschenny knew of Yuri with her bright clothes and her sparkling eyes so she wasn’t surprised by her relative’s equal vibrancy. The knowledge, however, even the comparison with Yuri, did not lessen the headache and discomfort she felt. To make things worse, the light from the window fell directly on her eyes. It felt like a joke. A cruel reminder that the world still turned, the world would still turn, even when—
“I’m very sorry about Princess Maria,” Yura says as a blonde girl, probably her maid, hands Yuri and Maschenny two cups of tea. Maschenny hates how fake the entire ordeal seems. Ha Yura had never met Maria—she barely knew Yuri—and yet this was the third time she had given her condolences over the ‘lost jewel of the Empire’.
Yuri seemed to sense her discomfort and she cleared her throat, ready to change the topic. “I know I already asked you the first time we spoke of it but,” Yuri leans closer as if she’s telling a secret—if she whispers, if she does not speak of it like she would tell a story to a friend, maybe it will not be true—“if there is anything else you saw, even if you’re not sure, you need to tell us.”
Yura looks at them uncertainly. It annoys Maschenny more than it should. It’s a simple question, Maschenny thinks to herself and frowns. She hates how on edge she feels, how the diplomacy has escaped her mind, Ran would be able to hold it together better than her. Maria, who always wore her heart on her sleeve, would be able to handle it better. She would face the scepticism and uncertainty of Yura with a smile and comforting words, she would tell her to take her time, maybe even compliment the house’s design just to lessen her stress.
But Maria wasn’t there.
That was part of the problem.
With a big sigh, Maschenny placed her cup on the table with a loud thud startling both Yura and Yuri. The only person unphased by the sudden change in the air seemed to be the maid who seemed too busy cleaning an already polished frame. “Were you staying in the motel when you saw them?”
“Yes, I stayed on the same floor.”
“Why?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Well, this house is big and you only live with your grandmother.”
“We don’t need to pry on Yura’s personal life.” Yuri cuts in, glaring slightly at Maschenny. “Was the view clear?”
Yura nodded, clearly relieved that Yuri had come to her rescue. “They walked right past my room. Kallavan first and Jinsung trailing behind him.” Maschenny sighed. Another dead end leaving them exactly where they started. At least, she wouldn’t have to stay there any longer.
Maschenny went to stand up but Yuri held her back. Even though she stayed silent for only some seconds, Maschenny could feel her getting lost in thought. She slowly released Maschenny from her grip and spoke again, her face unreadable. “You said Jinsung walked first.”
“Excuse me?”
“When we first spoke,” Yuri explains, “you said you saw Jinsung being threatened into going inside a room by Kallavan. He had a knife against his back.” Yura stares blankly at her which seems to make Yuri even more suspicious. “It was a very important detail.”
Yura opens her mouth to speak but is cut by the sound of glass breaking. Behind her, the maid seemed to have broken the picture she was trying to clean. Yura is on her feet almost immediately and runs towards the girl who is holding her bloody hand. “Rachel, are you—”
“I’m fine.” The blonde girl says. It seems rather unprofessional to Maschenny until her brain starts working and the conclusion of why Yura was in a motel is formed. It seems her thoughts are easy to read because the maid, Rachel as Yura had called her, looks at her with determination. “Miss Ha did not see Jinsung and Kallavan, I did.”
“Why would you lie in the first place?”
“You know why.” Yura tells Yuri “We weren’t supposed to be there in the first place.”
“I wouldn’t have made a newspaper about it and told the entire family.” Yuri shots back and Maschenny feels as if there might be too much family drama in this case. Had things been different, she would return home and tell the rest about it as a funny dinner story. Ran would have liked it, he would make a snarky comment about ‘the hard work of Princesses’ and Maria would have shushed him while stifling a laugh. Aguero, the most sensible of them, would be silent, listening to everything carefully as if he’s writing them down and even giving some additional piece of information about the Ha family, maybe even Yura, for Ran to hear.
“You know what happened with my father.”
“And it’s not just that.” Rachel cuts in “We couldn’t tell you what I really saw.”
“Which was?”
“Kallavan and Jinsung. Talking as friends.” She stops herself to pick some of the broken glass from the floor. “Maybe as colleagues.”
“That’s treason,” Maschenny says and can already imagine all the different ways Jahad would have killed if Kallavan if he had gotten his hands on him. “And a very serious accusation.”
“Which is why we couldn’t say it.”
“If you said you saw him,” Yuri begins but is immediately cut off by Rachel.
“It’s my word, or Yura’s, against his. You can imagine the outcome.” She explains “We thought that if you went there, you would discover the truth and tell the king.”
Tell the king, Maschenny repeated in her head. They could have told the king and he would have sent all his troops to guarantee Kallavan would be caught alive. Or maybe they wouldn’t have told the king, they would have told Yuri, and Yuri—sweet, kind Yuri would tell Maschenny as she had already done—and they would contact Jinsung and Maria would be there, alive, breathing.
But to save Rachel’s life, to save Yura’s reputation, they remained silent. Maschenny couldn’t fault them. She would have done the same. After all, she too had repeatedly lied to the king to save someone close to her, it would be hypocritical to curse them for a crime she committed every day for the past few years.
And yet, Maschenny wants to be a hypocrite. She wants to find Yura’s grandmother, even speak to Ha Yurin if she could, and tell them the truth, tell them about the apple not falling far from the tree, about their incompetent daughter leading a Princess to her death. In the end, it doesn’t matter if Maschenny would have done the same as them, the only thing that matters is how Maria’s life was taken. How Maschenny was hurting just so the sins of a girl who refused to grow up could be forgiven. The anger ate her alive and it took everything in her power to not speak her thoughts to both girls.
Miraculously, the Tower, despite its unforgiving and cruel nature, never turned away from those who bled for it. Rachel opened her mouth again, breaking the silence “There is one more thing.” She says closing her eyes “I think I saw another man entering the room. He wore FUG’s crest and protectively held a bag.”
.
“He’s breathing again.” —Bam opens his eyes and finds Shibisu checking his hand for a pulse— “Stop crowding me!”
Behind him stands, or rather tries to stand, Rak in his smaller form. He almost climbs on Shibisu to get a better look at Bam and the latter feels his heart lighter at the sight, the memories of the girl from before long gone.
“How are you feeling?” Hatz asks. Bam, having gained full consciousness by now, realizes he’s in his own room surrounded by his team. Hatz stands at the other side of his bed with Anaak looking curiously at him as if she can’t quite believe he’s awake.
“I’m fine, just a headache.”
“Not your throat then.” Hwa Ryun says. She says it with intent, like most things Hwa said, and it brings out the heaviness in his heart one more. To make things worse, Kiseia is right next to her, and the images of the girl who hangs herself, the ones of the Princess who died in his arms and the ones of the man attacking him—no, killing him—fill his mind once more. “There was too much blood in that area when we found you, we feared you were dead.”
“You were supposed to be dead.” Anaak cuts in “You hadn’t any injuries but you weren’t breathing.”
“Let's leave the black turtle to rest, he can tell you what happened later,” Rak says and moves between Bam and the rest. Shibisu is ready to protest but before he can say anything, Rak has opened the door and moves all of them out. Eventually, the two of them are left alone.
“Will you ask?” Bam questions. He dreads the answer. Rak, Anaak, eventually Han-Sung, would all have questions for Bam and he feared there were no answers to be given. At least, not the kind that would satisfy.
“You don’t want to say,” Rak says and it’s as simple as that. There had always been an unspoken understanding between them—after all, Bam was slightly fonder of the gator than he was of everyone else—and at moments like that Bam felt grateful to have met him.
“I think I died,” Bam says.
“You did,” Rak replies casually. The validation of his theory wasn’t something that Bam had expected. “The red turtle lied earlier.”—he shakes his head—“She hid stuff. Your throat was slashed. The blood could only be yours.”
Bam touches his throat instinctively but he doesn’t feel anything, nor wound nor gauze. Rak watches him closely for a while before speaking again. “By the time we came back here, the scar was gone.”
“I think,” Bam begins as the puzzle pieces slowly fall in place, “I think I might have met my—” he doesn’t get the chance to say the word as the door opens to reveal Hwa Ryun.
“I spoke with Han-Sung. I didn’t tell him about your situation.” She said quickly “But he has a request.”—Bam shifts on his seat and Rak tenses—“It’s nothing hard.”
“What is it?” Bam asks with a smile. He tries to sound as relaxed as possible to make Rak feel at ease with him going on a mission. Break and put yourself together, those were the rules of FUG, and death—and soulmates—would never be enough to change them.
“He thinks you should ask Urek for help.”
.
Maschenny returns home in the same manner she did almost every day. She entered the estate silently, Yuri trailing behind her, and gazed around for a sight of Ran or Aguero. Usually, they would wait for her by the door, Aguero trying to make Ran look decent in order to hide the mess they had done earlier—Maschenny pretended to not know of the games and sparring sessions they held when she was away—and Maria would greet her with a smile and perhaps some food.
She wasn’t surprised to not have been greeted the same. Yuri, even if she stood behind her, was much farther away this time, refusing to keep up with Maschenny’s pace. Other than that, the only thing remotely similar was how Ran stood in the hallway his eyes never leaving Maschenny.
“If Aguero returns, send him my way.” She simply says and goes into her office. She hears Ran huffing and Yuri’s footsteps getting closer.
“What was that?” Yuri said after closing the door to Maschenny’s office. “You can’t treat him like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like this!” Yuri repeats “Ran is hurting, everyone is hurting, and yet you act as if this only affects you.”
“I know it doesn’t affect only me.” Maschenny argues, a little more loudly than she ought to “What would you have me say to him?”
“About our meeting.”
“Our meeting was a disaster from start to finish. What good would it do him? The only thing that will provide closure for him, for me, for any of us, will be finding her killer and making him pay.”
“It wasn’t a disaster.” Yuri shots back “We know that FUG had more people involved and—”
“They could be lying.” Maschenny cuts her off “They must be lying. Think about it. The whole investigation starts and ends with the words of a maid.”
“What does status have to do with it?”
“It’s not about status. It’s about common sense.” Maschenny stops and sighs “Kallavan keeps a low profile, I’m sure that if we were to ask the rest of the Princesses about him, not all would be able to put a face to the name. And Jinsung? Not only is he not important to an outsider, but he’s also incredibly and painfully mundane.”
Yuri seems to ponder on her words. She clicks her tongue. “A maid shouldn’t be able to recognize either of them.”—Maschenny nods—“But there is no motive.”
“There could be.” The ‘I just haven’t found it yet’ dies on her lips.
“And if she’s telling the truth?” Yuri sits down on a chair next to her “If either Kallavan or Jinsung planned on betraying their sides? If someone uncovered the truth and sought retribution? Where does that leave us?”
Maschenny doesn’t answer. She simply stares outside and hopes Aguero has had more luck than them.
(“Where does that leave us?” Yuri’s question replays in her head in the middle of the night. Maschenny had spent hours trying to find the answer. “Alone,” she whispers in the wind “like we’ve always been.”)
.
Hachuling had known something was wrong the moment he saw Aguero Agnis in his office. Despite their good relationship, as good as it could be between the children of Eduan, Aguero never visited him at work just like Hachuling would only drop by the Silver Palace when there would be no guests. It was an unspoken rule and a sign of good will between siblings, a clear separation between work and family.
“I was told you were at a job. I’m sorry to have interrupted.” Aguero says out of politeness. They both know he doesn’t regard Hachuling’s jobs as important. That’s not to say he thought he lacked the skills, on the contrary, it was Wolhaiksong that had nothing to offer him.
“Actually, you saved me from a hellhole.” Hachuling chuckles “It was in the middle of nowhere, I barely had any signal. I might have been gone for a week but it felt like years. Years, AA!”
Despite Hachuling’s best efforts to lighten up the mood, Aguero continued to sulk. Not that Aguero was ever a ray of sunshine, Hachuling think he would be long dead if he was, but he was never that quiet, not even when Maschenny—who proved every time Hachuling saw her that she was her mother’s daughter—was present.
“Maria is dead.”
If anyone asked about it, Hachuling would tell that out of the four Khuns who seemed a constant in his life, Maria had been the most indifferent one. He didn’t dislike her, he just ignored her for the most part and was seldomly annoyed by her. After all, Maria wasn’t only as uninteresting as they came—the most exciting thing about her was her status as a Princess and that was mostly Aguero’s fault—she was also incredibly uptight and made a habit of calling out Hachuling for all his reckless behaviours.
And so, Hachuling didn’t particularly care for the girl who had frowned at his nickname (“Blueberry! It’s not even original!”) and who scolded him for getting sick (“It was raining and you were in shorts, this is like asking for pneumonia.”). She was another dead sibling, another dead acquaintance, it was bound to happen. ‘Lasted longer than expected, he thought to himself as his eyes began to sting.
“I’m sorry.” He tells Aguero with a small voice crack. Luckily, Aguero doesn’t comment on it.
“I need your help.”
“With planning—”
“She was murdered.” Aguero continues. The anger is clear in his voice. “I need you to help us find who did it.”
“That’s easy!” Hachuling tells him with a bright smile. He quickly wipes his eyes—he wasn’t crying, they had simply begun tearing up because he had woken up early—and taps the desk with a pencil. “It was FUG.”—Aguero doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer and so Hachuling continues—“We’re talking about the murder of a Princess, who else could it be?”
“That’s an organization.” Aguero finally says “I need a name.”
Hachuling’s smile drops. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You can.” Aguero insists “You’re the best at this.”
“I can’t do it.” Hachuling repeats and the unspoken rule they had is suddenly on the verge of breaking. “Wolhaiksong is the middle ground, it’s a place that is not loyal to Jahad or FUG. Helping you is like choosing a side.”
“I don’t need Wolhaiksong, I need you,” Aguero tells him and sighs. Hachuling doesn’t remember having seen him lose his composure like this. “She was poisoned,” he says and pressures his hands against his temple “she wasn’t collateral damage, she was a target. And it was cheap and cruel to take her away like that.”
Hachuling couldn’t argue with that. He had never imagined Maria dying like that; poisoned, murdered. Maschenny wouldn’t have been a surprise, she had always been cruel and strong, such death would be fitting, would be even considered a good strategic move. But Maria?
“If we find them,” Aguero begins again having calmed down “we can minimize the damage.”
“How?”
“If we have evidence, we will simply request for their punishment. Neither FUG nor Jahad wants a war, they might flirt back and forth with the idea but they both know they can’t afford it. Proving who was behind this will force FUG to let us have them. They will be punished and no more blood will be shed.” Aguero explains “Otherwise, eventually, everyone will start pointing fingers at each other and the war will be moments away.”
“There is something else too, isn’t there?”
Aguero nods. “There is a man from FUG. Jinsung. He’s missing and apparently was last seen with Kallavan. Who is dead.”
It’s a mess from start to finish.
“I’ll let you think about it.”
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