(Ophelia)
***
A few hallways and a staircase later, we found ourselves in the interrogation room. It was an unremarkable little space with a few unornamented iron chairs and a bare wooden table that appeared as if it would tumble over with its crooked metal legs. Some officers I hadn't seen before sat in the seats farthest from the door, while the guard behind us brought us to rest in the ones across from them.
The oldest of the two at the desk muttered, "I ain't been able to find any public records on either of 'em."
"Criminal history?" the lady beside him asked.
"Ain't got none."
*"Ain't"? Uh… Paint? Saint? Quaint? What the fuck does it mean?*
She whispered, "You're serious?"
"Darn right," he said with a drawl.
"You two." He pointed at Koharu and me as we perked up. "Your names? Gimme 'em. Don't try any funny business, you hear?"
I wasn't used to his accent, so it took me a moment to process what he said.
"Uh,"—I flinched—"Ophelia Heide."
"Koharu Matsuo." Already sounding bored, she clicked her tongue. "Or Matsuo Koharu. Whichever order you wanna use."
He glared at her before shaking his head. "Don't know the correct way to write it, hun?"
*All right. What's *your* name, mister?*
"Oh, I do, sir." She smiled. "Most people call me Koharu—if you want it simplified." Then, she tilted her head towards me, unable to do so with a finger. "This one calls me Koko."
*And only me!*
That answer didn't seem to satisfy him, but he went with it. Like a scribe, he recorded our names on some intricate forms and slid them towards the woman with a smooth sound.
"Tell that boy, Anthony, out there to search again with these here names."
She nodded and exited the room with the papers, moving stealthily.
Leaning an elbow on the table, the man turned to Koharu.
"I need to pat you down, mister—"
"Miss," she corrected him.
*If you said that because of the short hair—dude—you're balding.*
"Well, *miss*, I need to do that."
He then stood up.
All was well—if only a little suspicious—until the taut fabric between his legs caught my eye.
*Pervert!*
Thinking back to how disgusted the man in the bar made me feel earlier in the day, I shuddered. I knew for sure that the officer was ill-intentioned. Koharu didn't need this kind of experience, especially if she hadn't had one already.
"Tell me, sir: What's a 'pat down'? Can you explain what it entails? Why do you need to do it to her?"
Panicking and disturbing him in the only way I could think of, I bombarded him with a string of questions to distract him long enough for the woman to get back.
He frowned at me. "It's a search, young lady. Your friend here stole somethin', so I gotta pat her down for any evidence. Feel anythin' suspicious on her."
"What'd she steal?" I asked almost threateningly as he was about to make his way around the table.
He stopped. "She should tell me."
"What were you *told* she stole?"
I wasn't going to quit.
"Clothes, somethin' simple, miss." He narrowed his eyes and deadpanned, "You done yappin'?"
*Nope!*
"So what do they look like?"
I shifted in my seat, staring him down. He wasn't going to lay a finger on her if I could prevent it!
*But why do I have to be tied up now of all times? I can't punch this idiot in the face!*
His dilated eyes peered into mine. "Shut your trap."
I slammed my heel against the ground. "Wouldn't you be able to see them on her?"
"I need—"
As he spoke, the door quietly swung open, catching his attention. He plopped back down as if he was innocent, and a wave of relief came over me. He was too much of a coward to try doing that with someone else in the room. The victory was sweet, or was it perhaps that failure was metallic and bloody?
"Thank you," Koharu mouthed to me.
The lady sat with another set of papers in her arms. She was much younger than the man beside her, but she had large bags below her eyes that aged her. As if to ask my girlfriend if she was okay, she smiled at Koharu, and Koharu grinned back.
Turning stoic, the woman then spoke.
"Based on the CCTV evidence and physical descriptions I have, we have been able to match the crime to the criminal."
She peered over at me first. "Miss… Miss Heide."
Checking her notes again, she sounded unsure of herself. "Your first charge is vandalism, specifically for defacing public property. The second is treason. I have the specific codes printed here for later reference."
*What? How did I have two charges for one act?*
"Ma'am, treason?" I asked. I was entirely in shock, hands curling around the fabric on the back of my shirt. "Explain to me how I've been accused of that."
"I'd be glad to." She drummed her ghastly fingers against the table, paper bending in her palms. "Cleaning the statue of King Daemon Auguste is considered an act of treason as it shows allegiance to an administration that has been condemned in recent years. You should know this."
"I don't—"
"You'll have enough time to read a history book if you go to prison," she said blankly.
"Miss Matsuo," she continued as she turned, "under normal circumstances, you would be charged with normal petty theft and let off with a fine and community service."
"And under these circumstances?" Koharu asked, eyes sparkling and pleading.
"Royal accusations have been tacked on," the lady said. "Thus, your charges have been elevated to some of the highest possible for crimes against the current royalty."
*Huh? Royalty? Why is everything getting so confusing?*
I tensed in shock. I hoped Koharu wouldn't get angry enough to accidentally criminalize herself.
Koharu couldn't slam her hands on the table, so she stomped so harshly that it resounded against the brick walls.
"How could that be?" She struggled like a worm to stand up, but she fell back onto the chair.
"Calm down, miss."
After speaking sternly, the officer sifted through a thicker stack of documents.
"At 6:57 AM, the king placed an order for designer clothing for his daughter. The items included distressed sweaters and jeans alongside two ball gowns for a ceremony next week. He intended for an advisor of his to pick the clothes up around 11 AM. However,"—she dragged her words on as she flipped to the next page—"someone allegedly stole the garments around 10:31 AM, and they were caught on camera in the act."
*If she has proof, there's no way we're evading this mess.*
Koharu gulped. I was fairly certain our body language would end up giving us away, but I doubted either of us had any intention of lying.
"So…"
She bolted through a series of questions.
Where were we? Why were we there? Were we aware of what we were doing? Things like that—all to pry answers from us.
No alibi would be my salvation in the face of the incriminating evidence she had, but I couldn't help but question the absurdity of the charges.
Koharu was surprisingly calm, though her skin was lighter than usual. It was as if all the blood was gradually leached from it by every word that came from the woman's mouth.
Our answers became even more relaxed when she asked the man beside her to grab her a cup of coffee. He left for a few minutes as she continued scribbling our answers on a piece of paper and documenting them on some strange device that captured our voices.
*Did Koharu have one of those, too?*
When he came back, the two eyed each other, and then, the lady announced, "Thank you for your cooperation. Given the urgency of this matter to the king, we have scheduled your appearance at the Orbis Royal Court for tomorrow at 1 PM. You will be escorted there earlier in the day and held in a cell within the building. All right?"
I nodded, but Koharu hardly moved her head. The slight motion was enough of an answer to the lady, though.
"Good. Officer Jones,"—she turned to the buff, old man—"let's bring them back to their cell."
Both of them stood up, grabbed some miscellaneous objects, and abandoned their papers on the table inside yellow envelopes. We were led down the hallways once more after the entrance clacked.
Some beady eyes glared at us again, but many of the inmates were already asleep, curling up like shrimp on metal trays. Fortunately, many had pillows with them, but they still seemed uncomfortable with their constant shifting and scratching.
*Guess I'll make myself at home…?*
The walk felt longer this time, and I could not place where we were going. Everyone blended together as if the lines of the hallways aimed towards a single vanishing point. Eventually, we reached a point where both the officers stopped, and the man took a thin key from his belt.
"Any ole cell will do," he mumbled. "Least this one's got a cushion."
Soon, we were back inside *a* cell (which probably wasn't the same one from earlier). I was thankful for the move as this one did not smell of excrement anymore, but something acrid still filtered its way into the air.
However, we were left with only one pillow. It wasn't like that was an issue, though. Koharu would have probably found some way to discard a second one had there been one. She smiled at the sight and gave me a knowing look.
Stretching indignantly, she sat down as soon as the handcuffs were removed.
"Come here." She urged me to hurry up while patting to the tune of the metal's tinny sound.
*Don't be impatient. I don't want to leave my hand by the door.*
Freed into my cage, I walked over to her and fluffed the pillow behind her, finding a way to slide around her to lay down.
The surface of the "bed" was uncomfortable; I would have much rather slept in an ant pile. At least those had a dusty and soft texture.
The metal shelf was also dusty, but its unrelenting material did not cradle my back. It felt as if a knife had been jabbed into the upper part while the lower area was suspended over it like a bridge, making my torso feel like an ingrown toenail. I turned onto my side, and my discomfort was alleviated somewhat.
Koharu laid down while facing me so that our breasts and stomachs touched. She then placed an arm over my waist. The short distance between us flustered me, but I didn't let that show on my face.
A holding cell was no place to entertain such naughty thoughts, so the separation had to remain. (Regardless, I still wasn't comfortable being seen acting affectionately towards her outside the castles in the Galaxy Kingdom, and I was still jarred by the man's assault earlier.)
"What are we doing next?"
She then inquired, "How do you want to get out of here?"
"What do you mean?"
What was this change of pace from her? Hadn't she wanted to get caught?
She chuckled, her warm breath brushing against my neck like wood simmering in a fire. "Caught fugitives are kind of boring, don't you think?"
*Make up your mind!*
"I think that's obvious."
I tried holding myself together, refraining from acting upon temptation, but I overcompensated by stiffening.
"We should be on the run or something," she then said as she rubbed my back with the sweetest countenance.
"I'm not quite sure that's the lesson—"
"Oh. Shush, Lia. Anyway," she started while whispering, "I think we need to try and escape tomorrow when they put us in the… car." It took her a moment to think of the name.
I recalled our anticlimactic ride earlier in the day.
"There's a barbed fence."
"Then, at the courthouse. We'll hit them and make a run for it." She sounded enthusiastic while holding up a finger, and I could not deny the adrenaline rush that pumped through me at the thought of running away from the authorities.
"That would only work if they didn't have a gun."
She pouted. "Damn. You're right. Well… we could always dig." Koharu made some strange shovelling gesture with her hand.
*To the lava or the sky?*
I laughed. "How many stories have you seen?"
"The last time I saw a play was a few years ago. Oh, Aki tells me about his books, though."
Snorting, I retorted, "Still enough to have seen that somewhere."
"Whatever." She jokingly scrunched her nose up. "Then, here's a completely new idea: When we get to the prison, we'll give them so much coffee that they'll have a heart attack, and we'll stage an uprising!"
I giggled, clasping her tightly to me. "Almost unique."
She ignored me as she nuzzled up to my chest, using it as an extra pillow. Her nose dug into the bone as she slotted the cartilage between the flesh.
"Hey. Someone's going to think you're doing something else," I told her, shaking her waist.
Her voice was almost completely muffled as she muttered, "Good."
I rolled my eyes with a grin.
*Why bother at this point?*
The lighthearted tone that veiled us in a warm blanket as we fell asleep was not a voluntary one, but instead, it was one to which we were resigned.
People had two reactions to doom staring them in the face with its evil smile: They either cried themselves to death or giggled through it. Thus, our laughter was not merry but simply the better of two evils that masked an underlying melancholy that permeated our minds.