8. Closure of The Cases

1 day after the trial…

Early in the bright morning, Eliza opened the mailbox at the front of the market store. She found not a letter, but a newspaper inside.

I really have to get used to this, she thought.

No more daily letters, but daily newspapers now. The former because the sender no longer wrote to her, the latter because Tavar had paid yearly subscriptions for the market store. Advance payment for her service, he had said, but Eliza figured it was mostly because he couldn’t live without being updated on the news during his stay.

Eliza took the newspaper, flipped the store sign to open, and entered.

Cling. Cling.

The inside of the market store was—neat and tidy. The cashier’s metallic counter was straight, the shelves were whole, the items were restocked anew, and the floor was clean without a crack or stain. The condition was as if the assault two days ago never happened…

***

1 day before the trial…

Eliza carried the wounded Bach on her back. His cut torso still bled, and his warm blood seeped crimson into her white t-shirt. Bandages were in the market store’s dining room, stored inside a first aid kit; Eliza figured that it would be best to bring Bach to the bandages instead of the other way around. There were stoves inside the dining room in case she needed to seal his cut with a burn.

‘Don’t die on me.’

‘Heh… Afraid of… increasing your kill count… to two?’

There was dead silence. The same quiet that a stabbed corpse would give out.

‘… I know you’re a murderer. When you were young… you killed your—’

‘It’s better for me to win without killing my opponent,’ she cut. ‘This way, they can come back after they’re stronger, and I bet that would be an interesting fight to be in! If you want a revenge match, just ask, okay?’

‘… You killed your—’

‘If you want a revenge match, just ask, okay?’

‘…’

***

Inside the market store’s dining room, in one corner on the floor, Quin was wrapping bandages around Tavar’s stomach to close his bleeding gut. She knew enough about first-aid treatment and felt that the more thorough, the better.

‘Quin,’ Tavar said, nervous, ‘I really don’t think you need to wrap my wound that—’

She grabbed the ends of the bandage with a firm grip and pulled as strong as she could. Tavar squirmed from the suffocating pain.

‘—tight…’ Tears involuntarily dripped down.

Now that the wrap was tight, all that was left was to secure it. As Quin tied a knot, she could hear a voice from behind, Eliza’s, ‘Tavar! Are you bored?’

‘Crying from boredom is your thing, not mine.’ Tavar forced a smiled.

‘Maybe you’ve picked it up.’

‘No chance.’ As Quin gave a final tighten, he squirmed again.

Only after she finished giving treatment did Quin glance over her shoulder. She saw Eliza at the doorway, her clothes tattered, and carried on her back was a wounded man. Then, the previous incident flashed across her mind: of an impostor who took the appearance of Eliza and stabbed Tavar.

Was this person before her truly Eliza?

Thus, feeling the need to take precautions, Quin grabbed the knife on the ground, turned to face her, and pointed the blade toward Eliza.

***

Sitting behind the cashier’s counter, Eliza read the headline of the newspaper: “Mayor Ganesh Convicted by Undeniable Evidence”. Easy win for Tavar, she remarked. He’ll have to worry about giving a name to his child now. That’s going to be more difficult for him.

Cling. Cling.

The bell hung at the market store’s door rang.

A man entered the store. He wore a constable uniform in an improper manner; his cap was nowhere to be seen and his topmost button was left open. Yet, despite the sloppy appearance, that emblem on his shoulder claimed that he was the head of the constables.

‘I should become a specialist myself,’ Hoyd remarked as he looked at the pristine state of the store. ‘The insurance you get looks real handy. Hard to believe this place was a wreck the other day when I came to arrest the wandering musician and the pale lady.’

‘I doubt you can become one.’

‘Who knows? Maybe someday you’ll find being a specialist boring and pass your card to me.’

‘If that ever happens, sure.’

‘Just know that I would be glad to accept and abuse the card.’ Hoyd smiled. He took the stool at the side of the counter and seated himself opposite Eliza. ‘Anyway, about the arson case, it seems that the arsonists were hired by Ganesh. My subordinates found out that the hiring process that the wandering musician had described was the same as the arsonists, except the musician was good enough to know who hired him, and he named Ganesh. All motives considered, it all lined up. The whole arson was a ploy by Ganesh in order to avert the media’s attention from his case.’

‘Mm-hm.’ Eliza already had the suspicion, so she wasn’t surprised. At the time when she received the case from Hoyd, she noticed that the arson happened at around the time after Tavar had given her a job. Judging from the timing, she had figured that the two cases could be related. It had started as a wild guess; when the arsonists tried to burn the market store, specifically the market store, the wild guess gained ground.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

‘But the arson case isn’t over yet. The arsonists have confessed about the places they had burnt, but no matter how many times they were interrogated, none admits of having burned the very first house. Well, the first house didn’t have any graffiti, but it was clearly burnt by someone. There must be something to that.’

… Quin burning her own house, that’s what it is. Which then inspired Ganesh to start the arson case. And I’m the one who has to clean up her mess. ‘About that, can you pretend as if the first one never happened? Say that it’s an accident or something.’

Hoyd raises an eyebrow. He was suspicious, apparent from his expression, but he did not question her. No doubts or second thoughts given, ‘I can.’

‘Thanks.’

‘But you owe me a favor.’

Ever the opportunist, Eliza remarked. ‘Just don’t give me a boring case.’

‘I’ll give you an interesting one when they come. Alright, that’s that. I want to sleep—“work” in the office now. See you around, Eliza.’

‘See you.’ Eliza leaned her back onto the wall. She was almost done with the whole mess now. Only one last thing for her to handle now: confronting the person who was responsible for lighting the spark.

***

Quin pointed the knife toward Eliza.

‘Uh…’ Eliza had a conflicted stare and a flustered smile. ‘I really don’t want to refuse your invitation to fight, but I have to. You should get your arm treated first before challenging me.’

Quin’s upper left arm was bleeding.

She had sustained the wound in her fight against the impostor. The table which she had lifted couldn’t block the bullet; only helped in throwing the course off track: the shot had broken through and grazed her.

‘Besides, I need make sure this guy doesn’t die.’ Eliza set the man she carried onto the floor. ‘Pass me the bandages, will you?’

‘…’ Quin stared at Eliza, still suspicious. ‘How do I know you’re the real Eliza?’

‘“The real Eliza”?’

Quin pointed toward the ceiling.

Eliza looked up; there, she saw another her. Similar appearance, except the floating one had crimson eyes. Shuri had her arms crossed and her lips shut, accepting her powerlessness in that foreign realm.

‘Huh…’ Eliza remarked. Her main focus, however, wasn’t on the impostor. ‘So that’s Skyblessed.’

‘!’ Quin’s eyes widened. ‘How do you know that name?’

‘It’s a long story,’ she said. ‘… Pass me the bandages, will you?’

‘How do you know that name?!’ she repeated, voice raised. Other than Quin, only one person knew that name, and he was dead. If Eliza knew, did that mean that she had been getting information about her? Was their meeting in the rain a coincidence? Why did she pick her up? Was she someone who targeted her Skyblessed? Could she trust her?

‘I’ll tell you some other time.’

‘I want the answer now.’

‘… A boy told me. That’s all I’ll say for now. Bandages, will you?’

‘…’ Reluctantly, Quin tossed the bandages.

‘I’ll tell you all about it after I clean up a bothersome mess.’

***

‘I finished cleaning the inventory area,’ Quin said to Eliza at the cashier’s counter. She had chosen to stay and work at the market store after the trial week, due to her. ‘You promised that you’ll tell me the story after the mess is cleaned. I want to hear it now.’

‘…’ Eliza had meant that as finishing the arsonist case which Quin had unintentionally inspired. Somehow, she had taken her words literally.

The inventory area needs cleaning anyway, so that saves some work, Eliza thought. Alright.

Eliza had been withholding the story for a while now; the reason was that she deemed Quin not yet ready to hear it. It seemed, however, that now was the time.

‘There was a boy,’ she began the story, recalling the day that she met him.

***

‘A sickly boy who cares for her older sister.’

Eliza (15), on that day, had decided to listen to the job that a boy wanted to give. His black hair had abnormal bald spots and his skin was unhealthy pale. Though he might appear cheerful with his smile, his condition suggested that his situation was anything but cheerful.

‘Said that he was dying and that he was scared. Not because of the thought of losing his life, but because of the thought of leaving his beloved older sister behind. Worried that she couldn’t live without him.’

‘So, he asked me to take care of her, if the worst happens to him.’

The boy had begged. Tears were in his eyes; for he was saddened about leaving his sister’s side, but a smile was on his lips; for he was happy about finally finding someone who could look after his sister. Their meeting was, in his words, destined.

‘I, of course, rejected the job.’

***

‘… You what?’ Quin complained.

‘I rejected the job he gave.’

Quin wanted to lash out—apparent from how she raised her fist—but she controlled herself, and asked, ‘Why?’

‘The job sounded so boring.’ Whap! Eliza caught Quin’s thrown fist. She then found herself lifted away from the stool she was sitting on, floating upward. ‘I mean, come on. He shouldn’t be so pessimistic. If I were to help him, isn’t that the same as accepting his imminent death? That’s boring! The only interesting outcome is for him to beat his sickness, live, and be by his sister’s side!’

Eliza was upside down now. The only reason she wasn’t floating helplessly in the air was because she still held Quin’s fist.

‘The story is still not finished, you know?’

‘I’m not satisfied unless I can give you a good hit.’

‘You’re not even listening until the end…’

***

‘So, I told him straight that I have no interest in taking a job from someone who accepts his death.’

The boy was young, but he had a good head on his shoulders. He understood where Eliza was coming from and nodded. Made a new proposition to persuade her.

‘He promised that he’ll do his best to recover his health. But, in the worst-case scenario that he still couldn’t, he requested me to take care of his older sister.’

***

‘And you finally accepted?’ Quin asked.

‘Of course not.’ Whap! Eliza caught Quin’s other fist. ‘Hear me out… The story is still not finished.’

***

‘You really won’t?’ The boy asked, a tear coursed down his cheek.

‘Taking care of someone is bothersome, you know?’ Eliza answered. ‘It’s as if you’re dropping all the responsibility to me without doing anything yourself other than asking.’

‘That’s… fair…’ he sulked.

‘… Do you really care for your older sister?’

‘I do.’

‘…’ Eliza might be realistic, in the sense that she wasn’t going to just accept and take anyone’s heavy responsibility for herself, but she wasn’t heartless. ‘Then here’s what you’ll do: give it your best to recover your health and, while at it, send me letters every day without fail. It can be a short made-up story, it can be random trivia, it can be about your daily life, but it has to be interesting. I’ll consider the daily letters your payment for the job. If you do that and the worst still happens, I promise I’ll take care of your sister.’

‘You really will?’ His face brightened up.

‘I will. But make sure you send me a last letter, so I know why you stop sending them. Hopefully because there’s no longer any need to.’

‘I’ll send you a letter every day!’ He was determined. ‘Without fail! It’s a promise!’

Eliza smiled.

***

Quin, having heard the whole story, let Eliza down. She landed her feet on the ground without any trouble. Now that Quin’s anger had subsided, the sorrows that had before been suppressed gushed out like a broken dam.

‘Locke…’ she called out his name and cried. Not able to stand, her knees touched the floor. ‘You did all that, for me? Even though I’m… a bad older sister…?’

‘To him, you’re the best older sister he could ever had.’ Eliza knew from the daily letters he sent her.

‘Locke…’

Not having any more words for comfort, Eliza remained silently seated behind the cashier’s counter as Quin bawled her eyes out. Seeing her in that state, she couldn’t help but wonder, Will I be able to cry like that? If someone close to me dies?

She couldn’t tell.

Regardless, Eliza shed a tear. My days will be a bit more boring without Locke’s daily letters.

***

After having burnt her house, Quin had set off.

Her brother had made two last requests: one, for her to live; the other, for her to deliver two letters.

Having passed a postbox, she slammed two letters into it, sending them… somewhere…

***

Eliza had kept two letters stored safely inside the market store’s cashier. Both were written by Locke. One was addressed to her, his last letter to notify her about his status; the other was addressed to Quin, a letter which he wanted her to read. The latter was the reason why Eliza had been teaching Quin on how to read.

Eliza glanced at Quin, still crying out her sorrows.

I’ll tell her about the letter after she’s finished crying.