"Lady Savannah is here..."

"Does that mean that my debt is paid off? Am I a free man now?"

"But my mission wasn't fully completed… The one-way barrier is still up and perfectly working. ¨

"Does that mean Lady Savannah found a way to trace past it?"

Rokah repeated those questions in his head like a sacred mantra while traveling the tiny surface of his room. And covering the distance between the door and the window a thousand times. He was like a lost apache ant that didn't know where it was supposed to go or do.

Since he was shocked by Lady Savannah, sudden arrival, his brain stopped working, and he was only drowned in the illusion of the joy of being almost free. Free to continue his journey to the south, where this strong urge pushes him to move forward and guided him like a compass to find the truth about himself.

For an instant, He didn't question the reason that caused Savannah's early arrival before he could destroy the invisible barrier as they had agreed on.

For a few minutes of intense bliss, he simply didn't care to ask this question. However, the moment his drunk mind recovered some of his logic, the entire joy he felt crumbled like a sandcastle under the waves of reality. After all, he didn't fully complete the task that was assigned to him.

Lady Savannah is a pragmatic person and only cared for results. Does that mean she will not acknowledge his effort and consider his debt still not fully paid?

Will his life be chained forever? Those thoughts scared him more than death.

When he walked toward the table, he saw the pouch that madam Linda brought with her the last time she visited him. She was worried about his well-being. She even brought him some food.

She is not an unfeeling dump animal. All the mongrels in this village weren't menial, wretched animals, as the Metamorph clans believed them to be.

They are… they are victims, prisoners, slaves…

He witnessed it with his own eyes, and he realized that he was one of those unlucky creatures.

Even so, what he could do for them? What are they going to do about it if they found out what was going on?

Interfering in the game with the big players won't change his position or fulfill his existence. Because, in the end, he understood very well that he wasn't a savior or a herald.

These feelings of familiarity, belonging, and equality that bloomed in his soul while living between his pitiful kind should never be confused with the reality

He should never mix the truth with his wishful thinking to save them for the upcoming.

He looked at the half-finished painting and wondered about the truth.

Did he, himself, know the truth about what was going on?

Did really Lady Savannah tell him the truth? The whole truth…

Deep down, he found that what lady Savannah told him, who he had encountered in this village, and what he has experienced by himself, there were massive piles of contradictions.

Maybe this task that he was forced to accomplish as freedom payment for the benefits of the Crocotta clan wasn't in vain. Maybe fate sent him here to find his origin because he was also a mongrel like them…

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He lifted his right hand and intensely looked at the white fabric that wrapped around it, then he rolled up his sleeve to his elbow and started to remove it. The dark black skin that emerged from under the white bandage made his passive face change. His eyes were covered by a tint of seriousness. He joined his fingers to make a fist and murmured between his lips, " let's see to what an extent a mongrel can go? ¨

He is going to find the truth all by himself.

For starters, he thought about what Mr. Hendrickson implied, about the origin of the critical physical deformities and severe congenital malformations that run rampage in this village.

He had thought only about one person who could give him some answers about the foundation of this village; the village elder.

***

Inside the warm room, the doctor poured a white powder into a wooden bowl. Then he mixed it with the soup until it became a homogeneous blend and a little bit vicious. He used the wooden spoon to taste the mixture; a pleasing look invaded his face after he swallowed the simple. He placed this preparation on the table and opened the door to look for the source of the subtle commotion that he sensed outside. It was dark and cold, but the whiff held a delicate trace of fragrance with a touch of the metallic scent of blood. He closed the door, then rested his back on it while speculating on what probably would have happened. This must be the scent of a clash, a clash that took place in a closed area that why the smell was so feeble.

Rokah's thoughts jumped between the Aractanthrope to Lady Savannah. The two of them must have crossed each other's path. The Aractantrope won't sense lady Savannah because of his olfactory disability, thus he won't be able to avoid her.

The angles of his lips curved to draw a wicked grin as he let his heart indulge in moments of epicaricacy, yet the Noise that came from the corner of the room brought him back from this pleasurable vision. He glanced at the elder woman that was lying on the bed and started to wake up.

He murmured between his lips ¨Serve you right." This unexpected opportunity to dispose of that arrogant man presented itself on a silver plate. Lady Savannah surely will take care of him, since never tolerated illegal trespassers.

While he took the wooden bowl and sat near the bed. He tried to feed the old woman after he helped her take a suitable seating posture, so she safely could eat. And the wicked grin has yet to leave his mouth.

Recalling how she manhandled that Lycanthrope, rendering him half dead. This Aracanthrope will certainly not survive the aftermath. Because despite her bad habit of not finishing off her opponents by a fatal blow, Rokah will make sure that he will finish the rest.

Just a few spoons and the old women didn't want more. Rokah didn't want to force her. This was the nature of the elderly; they don't have the desire or the will to eat. As if the instinct of eating has become a heavy and painful obligation.

He cast the bowl aside and helped her to lie flat on her back. When she felt comfortable enough, she mumbled a thank-you.

Her milky, watery eyes seemed so tired, she closed them and said to that flimsy voice:

"Listen to me, taking care of me every day. I know it is tiring for a youngster like you."

"Don't feel guilty, madam, this is my work. How I am going to call myself a doctor if I get tired of taking care of my patients?"

"I feel my end approaching…"

Rokah's wicked grin bleached and his face made a neutral look before he adjusted the position of the wooden small chair, so he could hear her better, then he asked: "Do you fear death?"

The old woman took her time to the point that he thought that she didn't hear him. But before he could repeat his question, she mumbled a tiny word between her weather-worn lips " No."

He waited for her, so she could take her breath and ask again: "Then do you have regrets?"

The woman was startled. Her eyelid quickly shifted to let the light touch her eyes. And compared to the last time, her answer was fast to come: "Countless…"

"That's right, I remember. You told me that settling down in this village was your family's biggest regret…"

"Mm, Mm, Mm."

Rokah hushed and spent a few seconds observing the small, weary body that was barely visible under the sheet. He felt the sorrow eating his heart from the inside like a fire. He felt so useless, like always, when it came to this kind of situation.

It was somehow like déjà vu. He must have witnessed someone dear to him on his deathbed, alone, abandoned by everyone…

How nostalgic! How grimly nostalgic…

But he needed to know more, it will be sadder if the truth about this place sank with the elder death.

"You told me before that you were never called mongrels, that this appellation was a new... That we mongrels were called Chimera..."

After a Silence…

"He makes us fight between us. All my regrets started because of that man."

"Which man?"