The phrase, 'before I realized' is one where its words are used to a hyperbolic effect. It's like when someone uses "can't" in regards to an action they don't want to do, like "I can't eat carrots." It's not that they really can't eat a carrot, like they have an allergy. They just don't want to eat carrots. And even if they were allergic to them, they still can eat carrots, they would just have an allergic reaction and naturally don't want to. The same applies to the phrase 'before I realized.' When someone says, "before I realized, I ended up at a whore house," they don't really mean that they didn't realize what they were doing as they went to a whore house. It's just a way to describe how it was a sudden, impulsive decision.
Yet here, the phrase could be applied without an ounce of exaggeration.
When I came upon, Florence was dead. She was strangled to death, by me. That was the inexplicable truth, and yet I couldn't remember it. No part or fiber of my being could remember killing Florence, but it was an undeniable fact.
Why? Such was the only thought that consumed me in the following moments. I hadn't hated her, far from it. She was my ally in war, a comrade. She and I had helped and saved each other from danger countless times, just like we did with many others. If anything, I thought of her very fondly– she was one of very few close allies that had survived and at some point or another I had thought of her romantically. And now, after the war, she had only become prettier, and in the past weeks I felt a rekindling bond between myself and her.
As I recall my memories with her, my attempt to calmly analyze the situation disintegrates. My confusion and curiosity changes to simple sadness and emptiness. It wasn't the first time I'd seen a dead body, but an ally's corpse was different. And most of all, the cause was me. Me— I killed her.
A wave of mixed emotions consumes me.
What the fuck just happened. Why? How the hell... "What… why… why… Shit! Ah… Fuck!" Tears begin to stream below my eyes as my mind desperately tries to assess the situation.
I blankly stare at Florence's corpse. An indescribable amount of time passes, with the sensation of strangling her neck before letting her go still faintly on my hands. The flow of time somehow feels both fast and slow, as more memories of her flow into me.
"Lieutenant!"
...
…
..
.
But eventually, my weeping is interrupted. Three firm knocks on my door echo through the front door, traveling past the living room and to my bedroom. I jolt up in shock and almost fall off the bed, but manage to grasp the sheets and pull myself up before doing so. The sheets probably would have simply fallen to the floor with me if Florence's body wasn't holding them down.
Who is that? My glance quickly turns to Florence. Are the Royal Guards here because of her? Because I killed her? For the first time since what feels like an eternity, I step off of the bed. Upon touching the floor, the firmness of the floor contrasting to the cushioned bed suddenly gives me a grasp on reality. No, what am I thinking? There's no way for the Guards to know that she's even dead, let alone that her corpse is here or that I did it.
Or wait, is there? I recall my lack of awareness when strangling Florence. Would it be possible for me to be unaware of her screaming? If so, then someone outside could have heard and contacted the Guards. I take a deep breath. Still, in that case, the person outside would only be suspicious or concerned about something happening. They wouldn't be aware that someone was dead, only suspicious.
I run towards the television as quietly as possible and turn it on, lowering the volume to a level where it's barely audible. At this volume, no one should be able to hear the television from outside so they couldn't tell that I turned it on this instant. But the volume is loud enough that if someone comes into this room, they'll be able to hear it, and I can use the television as an excuse for any screaming someone may have heard.
I slowly make my way towards the entrance to my door, this time making intentional, clear steps for the person outside to hear. I slowly open the door before realizing a mistake in my logic. No, no, no, what the hell am I thinking? There's a literal corpse in my room, I can't let anyone in! But by the time I've realized, the door is already half open.
What do I do?
...
I can't think of anything.
I'll just have to hope they can hear the television from outside and then insist on them not coming inside somehow.
I fully open the door.
"Good evening, Mr. Circa." Outside, a man emitting a deep, masculine voice gives me his greetings. His attire consists of a black tuxedo, a white pique vest, shirt, tie, and gloves. The man himself looks relatively old, at least past the age of 50. Yet his posture and general atmosphere give no indication of him having gone senile.
Okay, well obviously he isn't a Royal Guard. I sigh in relief. In response, the old man squints his eyes.
"Were you expecting someone else?"
Ahh, what am I doing? What if he finds out I was afraid of the Royal Guards coming? …No—at best he'll think I was avoiding a girl, not that I was afraid of a corpse in my room being found. I consider making an excuse, but realize that it might be even more bizarre for someone like me to blabber on about hiding from someone to a stranger. "No, it's nothing. Who are you?"
"My name is Clent Banks, I am but a humble servant of Master Denzo." The 'humble servant' part I already got from his butler attire, but Denzo? What the hell does Denzo's butler want from me?
"Denzo?" Normally hearing that name would put me in a foul mood, but my exhaustion overwhelms it.
"Yes, Master Denzo has requested your presence in escorting son, Master Graham."
"What?"
"Master Graham is currently returning from a weekend trip in Liechen City to fulfill a couple of expeditions, and you have been assigned the role of escorting him back to here in Alyona. The arrangements have been made for a little over an hour from now, so you should start preparations for departure immediately." What the hell is he talking about?
"Now? Do you even know what time it is?" I turn towards the nearmost window and point. "The sun isn't even up yet."
"Yes, Master Graham is a bit of an early bird." I don't have time for this.
"You're obviously free enough to come here, I'm sure Master Graham will be happier for you to pick him up."
I turn and grab the edge of the door to pull it back as I go back inside my dorm, but it's pulled back.
"Mr. Circa, it will not take long. Up until sunset, at most. Your presence being requested means that Master Denzo has recognized your capabilities as an excellent accessory of both Eudicia and the Royal Guards." That's certainly a creative way to see Denzo screw with me. "Master Graham is a fantastic mage. He is one of the top students of the Alyona Academy and a magnificent magic user. If you are lucky enough, he may even be willing to spar with you, and I can assure you that such an opportunity would be of immense value to a commoner such as yourself involved in the Royal Gua—"
I pull the door with more force, but I'm met with an equal backwards force.
"Mr. Circa, I implore you to reconsider." If I put in any more force, I'll break it.
I sigh, and let go of the door. Seeing me do so, the butler relaxes his expression and loosens his grip. As he takes his hands off the door, I immediately pull the door shut and close it.
"Mr. Circa," The butler speaks through the door. "I don't mind breaking down this door. I will stay here until you accompany me." Break down the door? At the corner of my eye, I spot Florence's shoes. The brief anger I felt from Denzo's minion coming to harass me had allowed me to momentarily forget about last night and the predicament I was actually in. But the sight of Florence's shoes brought me back to reality.
While I would usually ignore Denzo's stupid harrassment, there isn't much worse I can think of than someone coming into my house right now with Florence's corpse still laying on my bed. Still, my bedroom isn't right here, it's far from the front door. It should still be fine… No, I can't take that kind of risk. Who knows who will go in and out of my room if my door is broken down. In the first place, I can't even have someone see Florence's shoes in my house.
"God…"
But leaving right now means that I'll be leaving my home alone, and anyone can find Florence's body here. Thinking like that, isn't going out an even bigger risk?
No, it's not like I'm under suspicion of anything. The only way someone would come in is if my room were to be burgled into, the chances of which are astronomically low given how peaceful this country has been, especially in this area. I doubt Denzo's underlings will break into my house if I fold. His style is always in-the-face, not doing things behind someone's back.
"Dammit…"
No matter how much I rack my brain, going along seems like the best decision. As much as I don't want to, I can't think of a reasonable justification for not going.
"God dammit!"
"Are you Graham Kadisva?" Only after having left home, I realized that I didn't actually know what Graham looked like. But upon arriving at the location, I realized there was no need given that there are only two people here. One tall male wearing an extravagant dark blue suit that practically screamed 'noble,' while the other's face and entire body is covered in a dirty brown oversized cloak.
"Ah, there you are. So you're the one Clent sent today? Hm… your attire looks kind of sloppy– I know that he tends to be a little slow in communication, but nevertheless this kind of clothing isn't befitting of a noble."
"I'm not a noble."
"What? Interesting… if Clent sent you, then you must be someone of at least a little standing. Ah, a Royal Guard?"
"Yeah. Caspar Circa. Do you–"
"'Caspar Circa?' From the Nugatories?" His passive gaze changes to one of hostility and contempt. I sigh. What a pain…
"Looks like we can agree that we should get this over with as soon as possible. Bringing you just to the Kadisva Mansion is enough, right? I'm pretty sure I know the directions–"
"There's no need to concern yourself over matters such as that. The only directions you'll need to know are from here to the hospital." Graham unsheathes his sword from the holster on his hip, revealing a sword covered in several clearly unnecessary garments that make the weapon look like a wall decoration. In response, I put my hand on the hilt of my blade.
"Are you serious?"
"Don't misunderstand. This isn't because of who you are specifically. The people that Clent sends to me are just meant for killing time. So that's what that butler meant when he mentioned 'an opportunity to spar?' "Though today, I'm going to be enjoying myself a little more than usual." Graham smiles for the first time, though it lacks the friendliness or kindness that would typically accompany such an expression.
As I'm about to pull out my sword, Graham turns to the cloaked figure who's been standing still this entire time next to him.
"Get out of the way." He pushes them with his empty hand with a noticeable amount of force.
"..." With no response, the cloaked figure slowly turns around, and begins to walk away. As they move, I can see glimpses of the person's figure pushing against the cloak. Looks like a woman, but it doesn't seem like the two are partners from the way they're acting with each other.
The next moment, Graham flips his sword around and hits her head with the back of the blade. What the hell?
"When I give you an order, you do it fast. Got it?"
"..." Still with no response, the woman falters in her step but recovers back up and continues walking at a mildly faster pace. From the corner of her hood where she was hit, I can see a stain damp with blood growing in size. Graham turns his attention back to me and closes his eyes before taking a deep breath as though he's about to start meditating.
"Haah…" While he does, I notice something. His sword— the entire thing is making a seamless reflection with the light from the lamplights. The image reflected on the sword is consistent, not just on the blade of his sword, but the entire hilt as well. The thing's made entirely of one material—entirely of one metal. Which means, he's got a metal affinity. People who could use magic were able to essentially 'grow' or manipulate an object, but only if they had an affinity with it. As long as they were compatible and in contact with the object, then from any part of it, they could materialize the same material, like growing a plant from any of its stems.
If he's got an affinity with metal, then the reason his hilt is made of metal is so that he can manipulate his sword freely just by holding the hilt. I thought the extravagant decorations on the thing was just to flaunt his wealth, but it was actually to hide the fact that the entire thing was made of one material.
"Say, you know what? Since you're a commoner and can't even use magic, want me to give you an advantage? I can tell you what my magic affinity is." Graham recovers from his earlier frustrated mood and grins at me mockingly.
"I'm fine." He scoffs at my answer.
"Your call. Don't disappoint me, Caspar!"
Graham abruptly dashes towards me at full speed. He raises his hands above his head together with his sword, and begins a downward swinging motion. As he does, his grip on the hilt of the blade noticeably tightens. Barely visible to the naked eye due to the short time frame, the blade of his sword thickens as he uses magic to grow it in size, making his attack both heavier and more impactful.
"Take this!"
"–––––––" Graham falls to the floor and curls up as he holds his stomach, speaking unintelligible words. The woman in the back remains expressionless without any movement, standing in the same exact position as she was in the beginning. I just hit him lightly so he should be fine, but still… She isn't showing an indication of any emotion, let alone some joy that the man who just hit her in the head is on the floor now.
…Jesus christ, what am I doing? What was the point of coming out all the way here if I was just going to beat him up?
I sigh, and turn my back to both Graham and the cloaked girl. . I guess at this point there's no reason to stay here–in that case I should go back. There's more important things to do.
As I walk the same road back, I ponder on what to do next. I've got to do something about Florence's body. Though with that being said, I have no experience with the disposal of bodies.
Would burning do it? Would the bones even burn properly? There'd probably be a lot of smoke, where would I even do that? The smell would probably be quite horrid as well...
I recall having heard of a serial killer who had successfully hidden his victims' bodies by cutting their corpses into various chunks and then burying them.
Burying… No, it's out of the question. I'm not cutting Florence's body up.
Or… I guess I don't need to. The person who cut his victim's bodies in the past probably wasn't physically able to, but it shouldn't pose a problem in my case.
No, but I don't have the equipment to bury a body. Where would I get a shovel to make a hole large enough to fit an entire body in? Actually, a new tools shop opened near the office. I remember some shovels being on one corner aisle there.
In that case… Oh, of course. The time it'd take to dig a hole that large and then place the dirt back into the hole after burying the body, in the very least it would take an entire day. Well, it's not as though I have any other ideas, let alone one that'd take less time.
But the location– where would I even bury the body? …A forest somewhere in a rural area would probably work, wouldn't it. A carriage at this time is probably available and it wouldn't take more than a few hours. But what if–
I suddenly come to the realization that I'm actively looking for reasons to not bury Florence's body. The intentional second doubting goes beyond making sure I have a solid plan. What's wrong with me… I need to get myself together. If, if... if I were to burn Florence's body—
I consider the act for a moment, but my chest aches. The image of lighting her body on fire takes me out of my thought process for a moment. Maybe it's something about defiling Florence more than I already have… but it's not like I have any other options…
I grab my head firmly and dig my nails into it, trying to get myself together. Worrying about something like this at this point… what am I...
As I try to think of what to do next, a somewhat familiar voice calls me in the distance.
"Caspar?" From the distance, a brunette woman walks towards me. She looks familiar. I've seen her in the office multiple times…
"Oh, you're Glynn's wife!"
"Yeah! I'm so happy you remember! What are you doing here?"
"Not much, just being Denzo's gofer."
"Ahahaha! The usual then."
"No, no, no, there's nothing usual about this!" She laughs. "You?"
"Just bringing these!" She lifts up the bundle of papers she's got wrapped around her two hands. "They're requests meant for the bulletin board for students at Alyona Academy."
"Oh right, the Academy's right next to here. You work there?"
"No, just doing some favors for a friend. You wanna check some of these out?"
"Uh, that's…" I have an incredibly strong urge to immediately return home, but I calm it, realizing that there wouldn't be anything for me to do right now anyway with no plan in mind. In that case, it may be better for me to just act as I would normally. And normally, I would probably be gladly taking upon this woman's offer, as I'd have nothing else to do on a Sunday. "Yeah, sure."
I quickly glance through the requests until one catches my eye:
Clyrell Mock Migration Season
Requesting assistance in extermination of migrating Clyrell Mocks in East Alyona. Offering up to 795,000 Iira per Mock head