Episode 93
She traced Ezekiel’s countenance with her gaze and added a word.
“My condolences.”
The doctor was someone who knew of the extraordinary bond between Madame Serva and Ezekiel. Ezekiel silently looked down at the dead old woman, then unpinned the medal from his uniform and placed it upon her chest.
“Serva shall be honored as a person of merit.”
“Yes.”
Mongkam paid his respects to Serva’s body.
Ezekiel cut down a decorative curtain draped in elegant curves with his sword and covered Serva’s body with it.
According to Anna’s explanation, she had hesitated, unable to understand Madame Serva’s instructions, and the slight delay resulted in her being shot by the pursuing soldier. Even though Ezekiel’s special unit had raided the inn and seized the upper hand, the spy named Levian shot Madame Serva again and again, venting his rage.
Red.
No one would ever know now which of the red curtains it was that Madame Serva had seen last.
“Doctor Polina.”
“Yes.”
“Is it possible for a person’s eyes to be unable to see colors properly?”
If there was anyone who could give the most accurate answer to this question, it would be Polina, who specialized in treating eyes. Ezekiel waited for her response.
“Yes, it is not common, but there are occasional cases. Some people cannot distinguish only certain colors, and I have also seen people who cannot distinguish any colors at all.”
“You say it is possible? And they can still live daily life?”
“Yes, they merely cannot see colors properly; it is not that they are blind. Usually, such people seemed to distinguish colors by their own standards. By volume or light and shade, I mean. So if the person who first described Miss Rose’s appearance to the Major was Madame Serva…….”
Rose’s name had come up in the conversation unexpectedly. The subordinates, who had long known how sensitive a matter Rose was to Ezekiel, tensed up all at once.
But Polina was not shaken. It was a story she had resolved to tell Ezekiel ever since she set out on this journey. The opportunity had simply arrived only now.
“I believe Miss Rose may not be a young lady with red hair and green eyes. The Miss Rose I saw was a young lady with hazel eyes.”
“The Rose I know is… not Rose?”
Had Serva been the one who first described Rose’s appearance to him?
Ezekiel impatiently traced back the old memory.
No. No.
“Your hair is long. What color is it?”
“My hair color is… red.”
“If your hair is red, are your eyes green? There are quite a few born that way.”
“Yes.”
“So that’s why your name is Rose, I suppose.”
Rose. It had been her.
So naturally, he had not doubted her in the slightest. She was someone who had no reason to lie to him.
“Rose’s eyes were hazel, you say?”
“That is how I saw them. But as for the rest of her appearance, Miss Rose was so strict about her clothing that I do not know.”
“Ah…….”
Polina answered concisely, only to the extent that she could take responsibility. But this time, the maid listening to the conversation was startled. Ezekiel immediately fixed his gaze on her.
“Come to think of it, didn’t you get along quite well with Rose?”
She had not known Ezekiel would remember her. Anna pressed down her racing heart.
“We did get along, but… Rose never let her guard down even in front of us.”
“Then you do not know either?”
For some reason, the people who had seen Rose directly all gave only vague impressions. Unable to overcome his suffocating frustration, Ezekiel was about to roughly push back his disheveled hair.
“But…….”
A thin voice captured his ears.
“Just once, for a single day, Rose showed an unguarded side in front of us.”
Ezekiel demanded urgently, “When was that?”
“It was the night when Madame Serva was away from the mansion, not long after Rose arrived. Do you remember? That day, lightning struck without rest. We could hear the master suffering beyond the door, and we were all so frightened we did not know what to do… when Rose came down. Her hair was all disheveled from waking, and she was in her sleepwear. And she opened the door. The room briefly lit up at that moment, and before the door closed…….”
He remembered that night. He had torn her sleepwear to shreds with his own hands and searched her body.
Whoosh—the sound of rain that day seemed to flood his ears.
Never had he felt so ominous.
“I glimpsed Rose’s back. Her hair was chestnut.”
A woman with chestnut hair and hazel eyes, who had been in a deep relationship with a certain man until late autumn.
He already knew of such a woman.
❖ ❖ ❖
It was the first day of the new year, bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new, yet the camp was more silent than any other day.
As midnight approached, the guards went around the camp and dragged out the prisoners who had been sentenced to death. Among them were many who struggled not to be dragged away, were beaten by the guards, and carried out with their limbs bound. Amid those who pleaded that they had never committed a crime and those who wailed for their lives, Rijan lay crouched on the stone floor and silently submitted to the guard binding her wrists.
Since Ezekiel’s visit, she had been unable to compose herself.
Isn’t it because I, the hateful enemy, am alive that my parents cannot escape the northern camp?
If I, the root cause of the trouble, die, would not Ezekiel relent his vengeance and sentence my parents to penal servitude instead?
When she thought such thoughts, each day she spent breathing here was simply futile.
The end was drawing near, and rather, she was glad of it.
Every day was too heavy and exhausting.
She no longer looked forward to tomorrow.
A tough rope dug into her gaunt wrists. Scratches formed from the rough, prickly burrs on the carelessly twisted rope’s surface.
“Get up.”
When Rijan could not take a proper step, a guard irritably slipped his arm beneath her armpit and forcibly raised her up. Rijan was dragged along as if being carried, hanging limp.
Behind Rijan, who offered no resistance as she was carried out by the guards, someone sniffled back a sob. They were women who had grown quite fond of her during their time together.
She hesitated briefly, but Rijan turned away from them. There was no point in showing her face on her final journey; it would do neither of them any good.
The square where the gallows stood was already packed with people. The execution of death row inmates was a form of entertainment. Spectators threw stones, hurled abuses, and spat at the condemned prisoner walking past.
“Make way, make way!”
The guards tried to restrain the crowd, but to little effect. Rijan staggered beneath rough hands that grabbed her hair and body without restraint.
She could not quite remember in what state of mind she had passed through the crowd. Her hair was grabbed as it pleased them, she was beaten and shoved however they wished, and before she knew it, she was at the gallows. Following the executioner’s instructions, Rijan stepped onto the chair prepared beneath the scaffold.
Even with her eyes open, her memory cut out intermittently. Perhaps it was an ending beyond what she could accept.
The executioner bound her ankles and knees with rope and covered her head with a black cloth.
“I’ll give you ten seconds. If you believe in God, pray now.”
What sort of prayers do people offer when facing death?
She had never thought about it before.
Even thinking of someone felt sinful. She wanted her loved ones to be safe, but praying for another’s well-being in the status of a sinner seemed yet another sin.
Why had it come to this?
Why had it been inevitable?
When she swept away all the mottled emotions whose original colors she could no longer remember, nothing remained at the bottom except regret.
She did not know how much time she had left now.
Rijan closed her eyes.
If You are there, God, please let my breath sever at once without long suffering.
She had thought her mind and body were crumbled to dust with nothing left to pour out, but it seemed that was not quite the case. A single tear traced down her cheek and fell.
The executioner’s foot kicked away the chair she stood upon. As the ground beneath her feet emptied, her body lurched up into the air.