Outside the bookshop window, it was dusk. According to the clock on the shop wall, it was 3.30 pm. It was still a long way from being dark.
"Do you want to stay here until nighttime?" a deep voice suddenly approaches me.
I turned my head towards him and said.
"I think they're looking for me, and the only place I want to go is here. So if I go out again, maybe they won't find me." I explained to him.
"Oh, I see."
More than three hours had passed, and I spent my time looking for books I wanted to keep and read at home.
However, what surprised me was this man. He had been standing and following me everywhere I went without saying anything.
My eyes glimpsed at him, who was looking at me. The distance between us was only half a meter. He made me uncomfortable, actually, but when I told him to go,
"I won't leave until I, your servant, come."
"I'll be fine."
"I'm not sure because..." he stopped as his eyes peered around the bookshop area, making me follow his eyeballs.
From what I saw, most people in this room were older people between 50s and 70s, except for the man sitting at the counter. He looked young.
"...besides, you don't know what language they're speaking. Do you?" he continued, wanting to tell me not to ask him to go, and he was still helpful if I needed him.
That happened, and deciding to let him stay was not a good idea.
Then, I slowly turned my eye toward the bookshelf.
"What else do you know?" I ask while rumbling the book in front of me.
"Pardon?"
I already had enough of his confusion facial today, but I try to stay composure anyway.
"About me."
"Oh, fair as winter's snow. Possesses a supple skin and..." he said, trying to illustrate me.
"Not that, like languages," I said firmly to tell him my example. Hoping he will give me the correct answer to my curiosity.
"Languages?" he said, bewildered.
"Never mind," I say, giving up.
"My apologies," he sounded in an upset tone.
"No, it's okay." I reacted. Thinking it might be too hard on him to be too firm.
Suddenly, I realised that the people around us were looking filled with novelty, but the expressions they were giving were frightening.
One of the reasons was him; he seemed to let his guard down if I was talking to him, and the situation they saw looked like I was controlling him, who looked like a murderer.
Nevertheless, I would like to stay in peace without acknowledging their response. It's not important anyway.
Speaking about the different languages, when I read a book, I would understand what was written in it, which was weird.
Let me give an illustration.
"Is this a book from this region?" I asked as I opened the book on page 45 and showed it to the tall man.
"No, this is an ancient script. You can tell by the letters," explained him.
"How about this one?" I asked again as I handed him a four-inch thick book.
"Yes, that one is from here. Why?" he asked
"The title says 'Plants found in a foreign land'." I read the title as I understood.
"Yes," he replied while looking at me, puzzled. I kept quiet, waiting for it to dawn on him as I stared into his eyes.
"...oh, you know the language of the people in this region?" he spoke out after realising it.
Well, it's almost close.
"No. But I can understand every word written in it," Tell me, then put the book in its place.
That made me wonder while reading books here today; in every book I read, I would understand even though I don't know the language of these people. Looking at the alphabet, how would it be written?
Or, maybe I do know their language, but since I have never experienced it, it would not work in real life.
Let me give another example. When I read a cookbook, I would know the ingredients and how to cook it, but it would be a different story if I were the one cooking, and chances are the food to go to waste would be high, or it wouldn't turn out right. You know how to cut vegetables, but you don't automatically know how to hold a knife to cut. If that makes sense.
One thing for sure is I need to study to get good at it. Practice.
"That's amazing," he responds excitedly.
"Is it?"
That was just a theory. Maybe the human Mr White doesn't know any languages besides his; there are no problems with anything else.
I would say Mr White is an all-rounder.
Ding!
The sound of the front door shop.
After almost four hours of waiting, they finally came here. When I reached the front door to greet them, the complexion that I was expecting was distinct; they looked like they were going hiking at the mountain to dig some herbs.
Their clothes had so much dirt in them, and the chef-boy clothes were yanked in his hand.
"Are you guys okay? You look dirty." I asked as soon as they walked in.
"MR WHITE?...Mr white..." suddenly, the chef boy burst into tears when he saw me standing before them.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Mr White, we might not be able to come here after today because..." said the maid, trying to clarify but cut by the chef boy.
"...they rape me; that is why I punched that girl's face," explained him straight to his point.
He was raped by women. They must have been walking in a dark area, but such a place would not be open if it weren't nighttime.
"Calm down and have a seat," I said.
The tall man went to the counter and asked the man sitting there if they had any chairs for buyers to sit on.
I just watched the two of them chat, and not long after, the man brought two chairs out from a small room behind the counter.
"Sit down," he said to the maid and the chef.
"T-thank you," the maid said hesitantly after looking at him. Well, who doesn't?
"Mr White, who is he?" she asked me, confused and worried.
"Friend," I answered shortly. I do not want to be questioned further because it has a relatively long story for me to tell.
"Which area did you go to?" I raise another question.
"I think they went to the southern part of this town. There are groups of women in that area who want men. It is a village for women only." elucidated the tall man.
"Is that so?" I said while glancing toward him.
"Yes, they will lock the man there for a few days, most of the time a month, until one of them gets pregnant, and then they throw him away." he ended his sentence while looking at me with a severe utterance.
"Throw away?" I asked, wanting a confirmation.
"Throw away..." he repeated.
Then, we went silent while looking at each other.
"Ms maid, how did it happen?" I questioned, turning my face towards the maid sitting there.
"We were looking for a master all over the area, and Agastya wanted to borrow the outhouse because he said he couldn't hold it anymore. I was waiting for him outside the gate, and suddenly Agastya shouted my name, and when I turned to him, he was already being carried away. I ran towards him then..." As she explained her story, I cut it in halfway.
I only want it to be simplified.
"Okay, I understand. Thank you, Ms maid."
"...I'm not finished yet," she says, but the look on her face is not satisfied. Thinking it might make me bored.
"Ahem, okay, go ahead," I said while moving my finger front and backward to sign her to continue.
"I was hit on the head and passed out; sometime after that, I opened my eyes and saw that the women in the area had been tied up," explained her a little brighter.
"Chef boy, did you tie them up?" I turned my face toward him.
"Yes, because they tried to rape me," he replied.
I went silent for a few wink, and then I responded.
"Okay. I'll treat you both, and then we'll go back."
"In that case, come to my house; I have some equipment to treat wounds." invited the tall man. Mr Roderick.