SIDE BRUNSBÜTTEL
Our car, slowly and bumpy, rides through the mountainous settlement home to most of the Castelforte family. As Rami plows through the snow, some lackeys wave, with the occasional lousy salute. Even as our driver, Rami, comes to a brief stop from inspection of my gated manor, there are sighs of relief from the guards and nods of acknowledgments as he is allowed to drive on through. At last, I can imagine they are thinking, the Madame Scarface is alive and well.
Rami pulls up just up to the vast steps of my manor’s entrance. Compared to the homes and lifestyles of most captains, my estate is rather modest in comparison. It’s a rather old building, being one of the first retreats of Toscana’s elite, it’s constructed mainly that of lime-white brickstone, long washed-out from years of abandonment, and is neatly camouflaged in the ever-constant stream of snow that blankets this side of the Brunsbüttel. And yet, I call it home. I would rather live here in this somewhat unrestored manor than stick around with my father at his mansion, even if it means I don’t get to be as close to Simon as I’d wish to be. And even despite its rather unsightliness, it does have a nice, relaxing view of the district below, given that it is a cliff-side residence. It also has a nice, lofty little wing that I utilize as a recreational parlor.
Olga opens the door for me, and I duck while stepping out, one foot after another crunches the deep snow. The coldness tickles my facial scar and numbs my ears. I look up at the two-story manor, looming in presence with its coated white roof. How I’ve missed this sensation: this feeling of familiarity. But on that thought, I cut a heavy, exhaustive sigh. But even still, I still can’t relax now. Not yet.
I expected something to happen when we were at the harbor. Not so much as even a mafia foot soldier about, or lieutenants keeping a keen eye. Back there, it was simply business as usual for the civilians. Even Rami, as clumsy as he is, didn’t mention anything out of the ordinary. No signs of auspicious cronies or anything. We weren’t trailed as far as I’m aware, and there definitely weren’t any foot soldiers on patrol as we drove through the capital: nothing. Nothing at all to indicate that Kamon is lying in wait, giving the order to her agency to track me down—to hunt me.
I don’t want to be paranoid. Maybe I am overthinking things. I imagined before it would be bad publicity if Kamon did anything too rashly so soon. Would Zhui even let her get away with it, after the confession to him on the Montepuez? I doubt it, but love can work in mysterious ways. He has done unusual things for her sake with out-of-line subordinates in the past, whereas it’s actions he generally wouldn’t take. He has no love for me, his proclaimed adoptive daughter. Even if I claim to remain reclusive, there’s no way he wouldn’t take chances and do her bidding.
And that brings me to the lackeys I’ve had patrolling my manor. Generally, I only have them posted when I am away from my residence and retire them when I am home. Having them around only makes me anxious… I never wanted to live a life knowing that I have to have foot soldiers wandering around my parameter for fear of assassination. I have Olga, and the community as a whole to protect me.
But even now, I don’t want it to be necessary. But there is a very real possibility that there could be a Kamon agent lurking in the Castelforte community. The idea that people would have to kill or be killed if it comes to confrontation for my sake leaves me more distraught than the brooding cold. Another sigh of disbelief. My scar tingles from numbness, and I stroke it from the aching on my brow and the bottom part of my cheek.
“It’s cold, isn’t it, Madame?” Olga asks coolly while rubbing her shivering shoulders, “it feels like forever since we’ve been here. Even the car felt a little breezy, didn’t it?” Olga asks, with a wince, thoroughly rubbing her mechanical arm. I imagine Olga must be regretting having it installed so soon. I did warn her it might damage her nerves, and the cold certainly would not help her stubbornness. I turn to face Olga, smiling.
“Maybe an arm warmer will suffice?” I muse “I think I had an extra one inside, but I’d have to check.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Olga answers. The lanky blonde radiates a beaming smile. “I’d respond in kind by starting the brew on some coffee—Brutey is more than welcome to join us, too,” she remarks.
“Huh?” A scoff from Brutus. The giant brute pokes his head from the passenger window and slams the door shut. The three of us begin walking through the partially-cleared walkaway and up the flight of stairs. “I’m not much of a coffee guy, though… you have like, er, I dunno… tea, or something?” Brutus asks. I cock my head, stroking my long bangs of hair.
“Tea? Tea, hmmm…” I muse, “I do believe I received a few tins of them as gifts many months ago… Olga, would you mind?” I ask. Olga thinks about it for a few moments before giving a nod. I bear mild pain to give Brutus a smirk, “I suppose you’re in luck, Brute~y,” I say warmly. With a slap on his face, Brutus groans in pain.
“That's more than fine but…,” another groan, “I really, really wish you two would drop that already,” Brutus says, “it doesn’t fit me at all, I’m not a kid. Look, I’ll cut you two a deal, I’ll stop—“ Brutus doesn’t get to finish the sentence. We hear a sudden utterance behind us. We stop in our tracks, turning to see Simon’s stooge waving in an attempt to catch our attention.
"Rami? Is there something wrong?" I ask. I stop stroking my hair. What feeling of relaxation I have is gone in an instant. A sense of anxiety rises in its place.
“Er…,” Rami mutters, seemingly caught surprised by the glares, "t-there’s b-been some trouble at the harbor," Rami says, the nimble crony clears his throat, "s-specifically, I-I’ve been told that Miss cap Olga is needed at her, er, earliest convenience," he points over his shoulder, "I-I j-just now received the information on my car radio," Rami says. Olga, breathing heavily through her nose, grips me by the sleeve. Her eyes meet mine briefly.
"Is this about my crew?" Olga asks, rather stiffly. Rami ponders the question, leaning on his door window and tapping its frame.
“T-they d-didn’t give me many details,” Rami replies “b-but yes, it’s about the Taiga. The message itself was from your acting ‘cap, Milos… I think it was,” Rami says. Olga runs a hand through her hair, gritting her teeth. “I-if you want, I-I can tell him that it can hold off for now.”
“No, well… I think it would be a bad time right now, but,” Olga heaves a sigh, she looks at me with a weak smile—but it’s rather sad. “I guess I have been neglecting my captain duties a little, have I?” She muses, ruffling my hair gently-like, “Milos must be pissed with me right about now. You gave them that wonderful speech on the Mathilda, and I haven’t been able to follow up on it too much,” Olga rubs my disfigured cheek.
“Olga…” I mutter. She lightly pinches my cheek with a heartfelt smile.
“You’ve set the bar too high for me to go off of, Madame,” she says, “I’ll go take care of business with my crew, and then I’ll come back, it won’t be long—I promise,”
“Olga…” I clear the lump forming in my throat, “I’ll come with you. It’s my responsibility too,” I say, pulling her hand to my chest. Olga shakes her head. More of that sad smile.
“No, no, you rest,” Olga refutes, you need the rest, you’ve been pale on the whole ride back.”
“Olga…,” I mutter, I glance at Brutus. He shoves his hands in his pockets and averts his gaze. “You say that like you haven’t been exerting yourself, either. Please, just let Milos handle it,” I bite down on my lip, quivering, “I’m… I’m scared of you leaving me so soon. You said you’d be by my side in case something happens. What if Kamon…?” Olga places a hand on my shoulder, presses me closer to her chest.
“Nothing will happen, Li,” Olga says, rubbing my chest, “Brutey will be with you. And I’m not leaving you, either, Li… you have to relax. But even with that said,” a tighter squeeze, “I’m still a little worried myself… but I can’t let my crew down, either. They need me right now, Li, and I need you as much as you need me, too,” Olga says. She releases her grip and parts from us, turning to face Rami. “Inform Milos, if you can, that I’ll be there soon immediately,” then glances to address Brutus, “if something—anything happens, I’ll come rushing back. So please… look after her, Brutus, and look after yourself as well,” Olga briefly embraces Brutus before hurrying over to the vehicle.
“Olga!” I say, my feet shuffle through the heavy snow, “Olga! Stay safe! Please…” my voice trails off. My thoughts swirl uncontrollably. Should I order her to stay after all? My heart aches with each pulse. Something about this is wrong, so very wrong. Am I simply overthinking it too much? Maybe I do need to simply relax in body and mind. My eyelids are rather heavy after everything is said and done. I am incredibly exhausted.
She looks at us, with one last meager smile, “I’ll run at the first sign of trouble,” Olga then presses her fingers to her lips, and extends her hand out towards us, balled into a fist. The lanky subordinate slips into the car. After the door slams shut, the car reverses, and before long… Olga and Rami are gone.
I take deep breaths. My mind continues to race. I rub my temples, sighing heavily as I do so. I glance at Brutus, his gaze following Olga’s car as it races through the valley. When noticing me, Brutus peeks a wry smile, “that Olga… I guess I can’t fault her. She’s still a captain, and she still has a crew, after all.
“Come on, Olga was right about it being too damn chilly here… honestly, I still can’t stand to reason why you would choose to have this as your residence. I’m practically freezing my jewels off!” Brutus smiles. I can always count on reliable, upbeat subordinates. But… I can’t help but frown.
“Jewels?” I ask, folding my arms under my breasts, “whatever do you mean?” Brutus abruptly scoffs, rubbing the back of his head.
“Anyway, let’s just head inside for now,” Brutus remarks coolly. We walk atop the rest of the stairs without another word. At the entrance, I dust the rather flaky hand sensor, waving my hand over it. There’s a short hum from the device, and the door slides open. Just by our presence, the lights flicker on concisely throughout the house. For a rather antiqued exterior, it’s still a relief to me after all these years knowing the interior system was so well-maintained even before I began settling in. Brutus heads off into one of the hallways.
“I’ll go make you some coffee… and rummage around for some tea,” Brutus says. Putting my faith in Brutus not messing the coffee up somehow, I shrug my shoulders and wander into another corridor. I come into the large but lonely living room, where I find the nearest chair and slip off my tanned cloak. And upon doing so, scoff at the memory of Brutus calling this a security blanket. I suppose in a lot of ways it is one. I’ve had this in my possession for longer than I could remember. I’d say it’s the only real possession I have—other than the clothes on my back—and the golden necklaces were given to me as presents from the Castelforte crew.
I have nothing else to my name if you can exclude the Castelforte itself. Though, I suppose the furniture here belongs to me. I’ve simply never needed any trinkets. I have Simon, Brutus, and Olga… what else more do I need? I hug the cloak for a little longer, then set it on my chair’s post. And after a deep, heavy sigh, slump forward, vision buried by my hands. A dual stroke of my face, followed by a responsive wince of my scar.
Brutus returns with two steamy porcelain cups. He sets mine, a mug, on the end-table next to me, and pulls a chair up to me, and sits down with a grunt. The chair creaks underneath his weight as if indicating the man will crash any moment now. Brutus takes a few sips here and there, then sets it on the table. “If you don’t drink your coffee, you know, it’s going to get cold,” Brutus says, cutting the silence, “you wouldn’t want my hard-earned grinding of the beans… careful measuring and pouring of procured hot water to go to waste, would you?” the oaf says in a light-hearted tone. He scoots the cup carefully towards me.
“Sorry, Brutus, you’re right,” I sit up straight, beaming a grimacing grin at the curious man. I grab the mug and chug most of the liquid—my throat burns and chest burns, but it feels good. Brutus continues to look at me like a feral animal as I set it down. A deep breath escapes my lips. “Surprisingly, it’s good, Brutey,” I say warmly, another painful smile, “if you ever got together with that young Haru woman, I’m sure she would appreciate your skills as a partner,” yet another one of Brutus’s disregarding scoffs.
“Look, if it’s that bad, you know it won’t be hurting my feelings,” Brutus groans, “and stop calling me that already! Look, I’ll start calling you by your actual name more if you’ll stop—”
“It won’t change a thing, Brutey,” I say, reaching over to caress his hand, “it was good. I’m sorry if it seems I’m coming off as…,” frown, a head tilt, “forceful. I think I’m simply just too restless,” I lean back against the chair’s post. When peering out the window, one of the parameter guards, a rather gruff man, sheepishly shuffles by in the knee-high snow. “A home is supposed to be safe, and yet just the thought of being stuck here surrounded by the necessity of security makes me anxious beyond belief.”
“Well…” Brutus muses, “did you have something else in mind? If you want me to relieve the guards, I can do that,” he says, in between a gulp of his tea.
“No, I will do that myself,” I answer, stroking my bangs and cheek scar, “I think what I need right now is some fresh air. I will let the captain of the team know they are relieved while I’m outside, and I want you to call either Rocco or Mark and let them know I’d like to head into town for the nearest sauna.”
“A sauna?” Brutus retorts. The oaf gulps down the rest of his porcelain pug and neatly sets it down forcibly. “Well… you do tend to disappear there when things get too much with administrative affairs,” he frowns, “you do mean the one on Löyly street, right?” I give my nod, “well… but what if—”
“If we spend so much time worrying about Kamon and whatnot, we’ll get nowhere,” I reply warmly, “it’ll be fine, Brutey… just let Olga know as well that we’ll be there for the time being,” I say. Brutus and I get up, and again briefly part ways. After heading outside, I stop one of the cronies and inform him that he is more than welcome to relax in the recreational parlor with his men, or do as they wish.
“But, Madame…” the man muffles through his heavy scarf, “are you sure? We were told by captain Simon that there might be—“ I raise a hand, and the guard takes a step back.
“Your protection and hard work are no longer needed,” I remark, rubbing my shoulders, “all things considered, you’ve risked your lives enough as-is,” I pause, glancing around before taking a step closer to the man, “let your men that if you are approached by any men claiming to be with Kamon… do not resist. I do not wish there to be any needless massacres,” the man gives me a surprised glare, but gives a reluctant nod and shuffles off through the snow to seek his men.
And with that, I kick through the snow, wandering off the vicinity aimlessly down towards the mountainous settlement. Mobs are out and about, doing what they can to clear the rather primitive roads of endless clout of snow. Some wave or give me salutes, which I quietly reciprocate.
Eventually, I come to a stop near a large, coal-colored chapel. It looms over most, with its lengthy steeple, unmolested by the laden snow that blankets the chapel’s roof. Simon told me once that this was probably a sect of Terran cultists, long since abandoned after one of the first Brunsb üttel ministers banned public gatherings on earthly worship. It’s a law that remains challenged even after the Mafia assumed power here.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Haru flailing her arms around as she shifts her legs around in the snow. When she takes notice of me, she smiles so brightly it’s enough to melt the snow itself. “Madame Li!” Haru says, huffing from lack of breath, “what brings you out here?”
“I needed some fresh air,” I remark, glancing past Haru at the chapel, at a gathering of children playing in the snow, “children?” Haru follows my gaze and sighs wholeheartedly.
“Some of the Castelforte crew found them when we returned,” Haru explains, “it seems they called it their home while we were away,” Haru’s gaze falls to the accumulating snow, “kids with no families… no adults to look after them. Their little leader, Isabella, helped them run away from the slums district… they didn’t seem to ransack any homes, though… but I’d figure I’d help feed them; some of the others offered some food, as well,” she holds up the closed basket she held in one of her arms, “chili lime shrimp—I managed to snag some from a Ronda merchant. Do you want some? There’s plenty of leftovers,” Haru says.
I stroke my blemished cheek, a sigh escapes my lips. I shake the cold and the sense of guilt and give Haru a warm smile. “Shrimp… I cannot say I’ve ever had some before. I’d love to have some later… right now, I have no real appetite. Brutey and I are going to head to the Löyly sauna—so once we return, I’ll force Brutey to eat all your cooking,” I say. Haru happily nods—and scrunches her partially frosted brows.
“Bru—tey?” Haru mutters dryly. I crack a smile, patting her on the shoulder. And at that moment, I register too late a rapid, icy fragment that blocks out vision blurry—and before I know it I lose my balance, the world goes blurry as I backward onto the white frosted ground. A sudden coldness chills my intensely burning face, and I hear a loud gasp as Haru stomps away.
“Isabella!” The woman shrieks, “Isabella! What is wrong with you!” As I grunt getting back, I rub my partially numb face, watching as Haru fruitlessly sighs in defeat as the children scurry away behind the obsidian chapel. I can faintly make out them shouting childish cheers like‘we got the booby scarface lady!’ as the group runs out of sight. Haru lets out a forceful sigh and returns to help and pat me off. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” she mutters, “they usually behave with the other crew members. I don’t know what’s gotten into them… that Isabella is a bad influence on the rest,” Haru examines me closer, “are you alright? You’re not wearing your cloak like you usually do—you won’t catch a cold, will you?”
It suddenly occurs to me that I didn’t bring it along, and I shake my head. “I’ll be fine, Haru. I was a little surprised, is all,” I break a smirk, wincing at the unusually intense pain from the icy projectile, “I’m more impressed they aren’t terrified of me.”
“I’ll have Isabella apologize for it properly next time,” Haru sighs, “really, she’s a bit tomboyish, but—“ I rest a hand on her shoulder, and she stops to look me in the eyes.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Try not to be so hard on them,” I say warmly “I’m sure they are good kids,” Haru sighs, shrugs, and gives a smile. And as she does so, her eyes widen as she points past me, “I think Bru—tey is out here searching for you, Miss Li. ”
Indeed, the oafish individual crushes through the snow. He looks concerned, probably by Haru’s shrieking. I excuse myself from Haru, trudging towards Brutus. “Jeez,” the man murmurs, “my heart was racing when I couldn’t find you—and I nearly shit myself when I heard someone scream,” he glances with a squint at Haru as she makes her way back to the chapel, “what made you wander like a lost child like that? Jeez…”
“I told you, I wanted some fresh air,” I say, cheeks pouting. Brutus tries to scoff it off and hands me my tanned cloak, “thanks.”
“What would Simon and Olga say if you froze up and collapsed out here?” Brutus says, sighing, “I’d never hear the end of it. I’m pretty sure Olga would outright murder me, anyway, I couldn’t contact Rocco—neither could Mark, actually, so Mark offered to come for us. He should be by the manor already,” Brutus says. I put on the warm, scratchy poncho and wrap it tightly around my torso.
Well, typically Rocco is punctual about answering any calls from us. It’s rather odd that Rocco of all people is quicker to respond, but who am I to judge?
We reach my manor and I find Mark leaning against his car, trying in vain to keep himself warm by blowing air into his cupped hands. When he notices us, he becomes noticeably animated. “Christ, took you two long enough!” Mark groans, “was it always so cold in here? Good God, why couldn’t ya just live in the big boss’s mansion like a normal person?!” I can’t help but evoke a strained smile.
“Sorry about this, Mark,” I say. The scrooge scoffs.
“Yeah, yeah…” Mark grumbles, “let’s get going already—and let’s hope I don’t crash for a fifth time with these frosted hands. Wouldn’t that be a shame? A tragedy, even.”
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Löyly avenue. It’s a quieter part of the city by day, and also the greenest. A nice retreat away from home, and the ever-irritable life of being a Mafia captain. This narrow property strip is home to a plethora of entertainment businesses that thrive after-hours. As such, after the Mafia took over—though the Don couldn’t care less—the lesser captains and lieutenants had their eyes on this strip of territory.
Though, Mafia influence has been stubbornly resisted compared to other parts of the city. Even now, it remains a staunchly conservative area, sometimes reactionary to any incursion by muscle men with nothing better to do. Thankfully, so long as they don’t come around for the sake of street bullying, Mafia soldiers are welcomed as guests just as much as anyone else.
Given that the width of the avenue is small to an extent that it’s inaccessible to anything but bipedal vehicles, Mark’s car pulls up just to the base of the street. Brutus and I get out just as Mark leans against his driver’s door. He procures a tiny, silver flask from inside his cloak—and I frown with puffed cheeks.
“What?” Mark groans, “it’s not alcohol—it’s water. I’m quenched! I’ll have you know I’ve mostly been sober today, anyway, I’ll sit by until you’re done… er… doing whatever in the sauna or whatever,” Mark points with the flask further down Löyly’s corridor, “I might help myself to one of the noodle stands, though, Brutus, if you want you can join me—but you’re paying for yourself.”
Brutus groans, “well, I was going to relax in the sauna with the Madame but—“ it’s only a brief moment that the two of us lock eyes, and I find myself flustered before I know it, “but on second thought, I think I’ll join you. I think Li needs the personal time from little ol’ me as much as the next guy,” Brutus says. As Mark heads off into Löyly past the sauna entrance, Brutus pats me on the shoulder then leans in, “if anything arises, don’t hesitate to rush out and find me… I won’t go anywhere,” with one final pat of my slim shoulder Brutus heads off to join Mark just across the street.
Feeling content, I head inside the main office of the sauna. The desk receptionist, a middle-aged man long familiarized with me as a regular, is more than happy in handing me the wrist strap containing a service key after I place on the desk a few franc bills.
“Thank you for your patronage,” he says, a slight nod, “enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you, I will,” I say, smiling warmly. After receiving the wrist strap, I quietly stride off into one of the locker rooms, where I strip down and set my belongings in a locker. Afterward, a step into an adjacent shower compartment for a breezy, brisk body shower. Ahh, a drawn-out sigh of relief. How I’ve waited so long for this refreshing moment! After a few moments of experiencing the exhilarating bout of freshness, I step out, drying myself lightly with a fresh towel.
I waste no time heading out further into the hallway until coming to the main sauna facilities. The first one already has several occupants in it, and the second one is likewise filled with men. The next one over, thankfully, is vacant. And without a moment’s hesitance, I slide the door open and step inside.
It’s a moderately large circular room, constructed almost entirely out of hexagonal-themed wood—a lightly tanned brown, bordering on red. The center of the room is dominated by a pure black modular device connecting to the ceiling. And just past that in front of me are two benches that extend across the room.
I walk to the front side of the device, kneeling with a grunt. I tinker with its touch screen a little, programming it to rise gradually to and remain in a fixed range. While the sauna device does its thing, I plop down on the center part of the lower bench, arms extended outwardly. My eyelids, struggling with all their effort in keeping wake, crash down as one heavenly sigh after another washes me away to another world. The very pores in my body open up to the heat, welcoming much-needed rest.
Bliss. Incomprehensibly yet incredible bliss. How long has it been since I could simply escape from my problems, if only for a while? Here, all my stress and problems simply melt away against the rising steam. I can’t help but silently curse myself for not coming here sooner. I imagine if I did, I wouldn’t be on the verge of my breaking point. I could’ve tackled the issue with Kamon directly, refreshed and with a rejuvenated mind. There would’ve been no need to constantly keep Olga and Brutus worried.
Ah… if only Olga was here to relax with me. A slight blush as I stroke my warm, moist scar, I wouldn’t mind if Brutus or even Simon tagged along as well. I think even compared to me, they need a brief escape from life more than I do. It makes me feel a little guilty—if a little down in spirits that Brutus decided not to tag along with me. Just the two of us… relaxing together in a steamy bath. A brief scoff escapes my moist lips. What am I saying?
The sauna door slides open—an interruption of my train of thoughts. But I pay no attention to it. If other patrons wish to join me, then I have no qualms with it. The embarrassing thought of the timid Brutus, huffing, and puffing as he tries to play a game of endurance entertains me for some time.
But something seems off about the patron at the door. It’s still open—and it’s letting the steam out. But yet, I can’t bring myself to stir awake. My body, fully surrendered to the magic of the sauna, is akin to sleep paralysis.
It’s getting increasingly lukewarm. Though there is still a heavy, formulating mist, I can barely make out the dark silhouette at the doorway. It would seem they haven’t budged at all. How long exactly have they been there? A pervert, perhaps? Now I wish Olga or Brutus were here with me. “Please…” I croak, just barely craning my neck to get a better view of the loitering patron, “if you’re not going to come in… then please close the door. You’re letting the steam go to waste.”
The figure seems to glance to his sides, then takes a step inside—then another. Though it is still impossible to distinguish the man’s features, it strikes me that he is fully clothed—and wearing a top hat. Generally, there is no restriction that you have to be naked with a towel at most, it’s merely etiquette, but I am not one to judge other people’s tastes.
And yet, something seems off. But I can’t put my finger on what. In my current state, this feels like a feverish dream. A little hotter than what I’m accustomed to. Did I set the temperature too high out of my preferred range? No, I’m almost certain I set it properly. It could just be that since it’s been a while since I’ve used the sauna, my body simply forgot the feel of things.
I tilt my head. My wandering eyes return to the man at the door. The door still hasn’t been shut—and it feels even less warm now, almost room temperature. “Sorry…” my feeble voice croaks again, “if… I wasn’t clear the first time, please at least close the door behind you,” I say. It’s hard to focus due to the tiredness, but I make sure that my voice is louder this time.
No response from the man. Instead, he takes another step closer. And it’s only then that I realize he’s not only wearing full attire—but he’s wearing an ominously dark cloak. One of his arms pokes out from it, and I hear a sound all too familiar with me. A sound that I’ve never wanted to hear ever again. It’s a sound that all languages speak—Ruthenian, Federation, Toscani… a mechanical sound that I’ve lived and fought by—a sound that is nearly second-nature to me.
The cocking of a pistol.
The intruder takes another step forward. He passes through the web of steam—and I can distinguish under the brim of the hat the face of a monster. The lack of hesitance in his expression. The steel resolve in the whites of his eyes. The lifeless, unflinching glare that locks eyes with mine. The reflective glimpse of a haggard woman, in contrast, helpless, defenseless, naked, and unprepared. But it’s his defining features that haunt me the most.
Karwoski.
It’s the same as then. And perhaps it will always be the same. The one who snubbed the innocence of Li Chou—the one who gave birth to the Madame Scarface. And so many years later, it comes full circle: death and rebirth. No matter how much I run from the past, my horrors merely take a new form.
Is this how I die? After all the impossibilities I endure? Just like that, I die an undignified death? Robbed of the right to grow old and die? A pirate never has a happy ending. It’s like a chorus speaks out to me. In some ways, I suppose Jung and Simon were right after all. I was robbed of my right to live out a normal peaceful life years ago. My fate was always certain, was it not?
It was only a matter of time. And I suppose sooner or later, I will meet my maker. I will meet all of those who I killed, all of those who sought to protect me. I will meet mama and papa, my brother, and all those I’ve let down.
The man mutters something. I close my eyes, cutting loose my last, final breath. I’m sorry, Simon. Please forgive me.
And yet… nothing. No sound of a trigger being pulled. No sound of gunfire, no intense pain, or gunshot wounds.
Mustering the courage, I open my eyes, slowly. It’s still the sauna room. The cloaked man stands outside the door, he utters something, a look of utter rejection on his face. He looks at me one last time before he abruptly storms off.
I muster what strength I have left. No signs of blood on me, nothing. And as I try to get up, I am left wobbly: lightheaded from staying in so long.
And at that moment, another clothed individual appears. But it’s difficult to make out their features with their back turned to me. They close the door shut, and finally turn to face me.
Out of air, I want to gasp. The color drains from my face. I lean over to the side in my seat, my world spins. “Kamon…” I utter, rather weakly. Why didn’t I realize it sooner? No words can come out, my energy has failed me.
Kamon, with a long, thin pipe in hand, takes slow steps towards me—but pauses to kneel by the sauna device. But before long, the elderly Hwang promptly sits adjacent to me. She takes a long, drawn-out suck from her pipe, and blows it into the steamed room.
Why? Why now? I should’ve realized sooner that I’d be left vulnerable, and yet… Brutus? My mind, scrambled as it, races around as I try to get up, wobbly, but where to?
“My physician,” Kamon begins after what feels like an eternity, she blows another cloud of toxin, “Dr. Yang, always did suggest I take steamed baths as relief,” a hand upon my shoulder, “it promotes good health—“ it’s not an iron grip, but a gentle one, “something along the lines of better blood circulation,” Kamon continues. I expect her to push me down—but she never does. With her pipe hand, another huff. She never once meets eyes with me, her eyes trained on the door.
“An opening of the airways, he’d say. Refreshment of the mind,” Kamon continues. Her grip never tightens—and she never once tries to pull me down. At my intuition, I sit next to her. Kamon doesn’t react—but only merely a subtle grin and a nod. “I think that is something we can agree on, yes?” Kamon asks. It’s rather difficult to clear my throat. It’s heavy, and simply trying to breathe proves difficult. With sheer reluctance, I give a nod. “I’m glad you agree…” Kamon says, another smirk. Her gaze shifts to me, momentarily, the heavy bags under her eyes all the more apparent. She puts one leg over the other. Kamon taps the pipe on her lips.
“I suppose…” Kamon starts, tersely, “this is the first time we’ve spoken directly… and it is rather…” the corner of her eye, a piercing gaze, “unfortunate it is not on more—appropriate audience,” Kamon continues, setting the pipe in her lap. Her hand never once leaves my shoulder. “I’ve had a bit of an obsession with you lately, Miss Chou… things are…” a pause, a tilt of her hilt as her eyes search the misty, yellow lights, “are in quite… the predicament right now, wouldn’t you think? So many interesting things have happened,” a brief pause for Kamon to take a prolonged drag from her pipe, “in such a short amount of time.
”There’s a saying, that desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures…” Kamon taps the pipe on her knee and sets it aside before facing me. My breaths have gotten so concise. My entire body refuses to obey me. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Chou? It’s similar to a rather classic dilemma… of diverting a trolley’s course, to kill a few if it meant avoiding a larger count of deaths…” Kamon muses.
It’s cold. Beyond the point of freezing. The mountainous settlement is warm in comparison. Kamon quietly releases me, and with the tips of her fingers, strokes my facial scar-line. “Come to think of it,” she continues, laconically, “I heard rumors that you were unlucky enough to be at the helm of such an incident, not too long ago, am I wrong?”
“I…” a gasp, with each breath I take, my chest cries in pain, “no, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about… I merely,” a lonely tear roll trickles down my cheek—interrupted by Kamon’s finger. More gasps of air as my chest pounds faster. I want to pull away, but my body, as if utterly captivated by Kamon, refuses to obey, “I’ve never… it was merely… to resupply the fleet.”
“I see,” Kamon nods, a frown—and another nod, “but if you did, hypnotically, find yourself stuck in such a precarious situation… I think I would understand. After all, you are more than a capable,” she pulls her pipe up, nodding all the same, “cunning, individual, Miss Chou… I think, hypnotically, you would know there is more at stake than letting a few die…” Kamon pauses, a deep sigh, “but what then? What if there were more odds you would have to face? What if there are even endless junctures just as horrible?”
“You don’t know what I’ve been through,” I mutter, “what I took to get here. What my men and I have done to ensure victory.”
“Maybe,” Kamon remarks, “despite what they say of my reputation, I do not like blooding my hands—I leave that to others, and even then, death is a pointless outcome,” Kamon takes a deep breath, tapping the pipe on her knee, “but even then, there are some things that must be done—and these things you have to do it yourself,” the tapping stops, and she points to the door. Another deep breath from Kamon. “Isn’t that right, Miss Chou? These days, it seems I simply cannot trust anyone—not my adoptive daughter, not her henchmen, and certainly, I cannot trust my agencies.”
“Why…” I gasp, “why didn’t you have me killed?” The words are almost pleading, a demand. A way to end my suffering. Kamon glances at me long and thoughtfully. Another brief smirk.
“A change of heart,” Kamon says dryly, “I guess you could say. I couldn’t be helped but be moved by your compassion towards others. To let her enemies live and fight another day. It was a pain to have Brutus and that blonde separated from you—not to mention the others, after all. I figured it was as good an opportunity as any.”
“You’re too considerate,” I say. But like a heavy wave, her last remarks hit me hard. I feel what little energy I have nearly drains away. Several gasps as I glare at Kamon with all I have left. “Olga… Rocco… that was your…” I can’t find the words to finish the rest. Was I too naive? I shake my head, several times, I try to move my legs, but they’re unresponsive. A soup of emotions—Anger, sorrow, frustration boils within me. “Did you hurt them?” I croak, “did you hurt my family?!”
Kamon says nothing, preferring to suck on her pipe, followed by a huff of toxins that cloud my vision. Almost in a moment, the presence of Madam Hwang disappears. I jump to my feet, wobbling as I try to keep stabilized. My world spins rapidly, as I lunge out at the endless mist. “Please,” I shout, “don’t hurt them! They’ve done nothing wrong!” A stream of tears, “it’s me you want, isn’t it?!” A shout into the abyss, unanswered, “I did what I had to do,” a scream this time, my throat strained before I know it, “I did what I felt was right… you would’ve done the same, would you not?!”
“Rest assured,” the voice of Kamon is all around me, no way to pinpoint where “your loved ones are safe… Miss Chou, let this experience be a warning to you… a warning to never defy me.”
“Where are you, Kamon?!” I wail, “did you come here merely to watch me suffer?!” Kamon, however, presses on undeterred.
“Miss Chou… I only ask of one thing from you—one condition, rather. So long as you respect me—I will respect you. But if you don’t…” I slump to my knees, trying to grab on to something to stop my world from spinning endlessly, “well, I cannot guarantee what will happen. But… in any case, you can live your life—caring for your orphanage without a worry in the world. Even sleep well at night knowing I will not loom over your shoulder.
“I look forward to your continued cooperation, Madame Scarface.”
Unable to maintain consciousness for much longer, my world fades to black.
----------------------------------------
Violent shakes bring me out of a horrible, gut-wrenching dream. When I open my eyes, I see only a burly man, sobbing uncontrollably, his tears splashing on my face as he cradles me. My body, mostly stricken with exhaustion, remains paralyzed. Miraculously, I manage in wiggling an arm free to stroke Brutus’s face.
“Li,” Brutus chokes, “oh my god, Li, I was so worried, dear god, I…,” Brutus vainly wipes his eyes off with his collar, “I should’ve realized sooner when all these thugs sat around us…” he takes a hand and wipes the splotches from my face, “I’m so sorry, Li, I’ve failed you yet again. What am I even good for?!”
I only weakly shake my head, “no… Brutus,” the words come slurred, but I persevere, “it is my fault that your lives remained at stake…” I clear my throat, enduring great pain to grin, “but I wish you would be a little more gentle with me.”
Brutus clenches his teeth, more tears rain down on me, “I love you, Li,” the oaf utters, squeezing me in his embrace. I can’t help but let out an embarrassed, pained grunt.
“Olga… is she safe?” I stammer, Brutus is quick to give a nod, “if she was here, I’d think she’d kill you that,” Brutus lets out a pained chuckle at that remark.
“I think… there’s more than enough of you for everyone to love equally,” Brutus remarks. My cheeks flush red, eyes dart around. The realization that I’ve more or less still naked as Brutus embraces me so tightly.
Brutus calms down after some time and pulls himself away keeping his gaze averted from me. Coughing loudly, Brutus speaks, “Olga and them should be here shortly,” Brutus says, “we still have time to get you ready and leave.”
“I think… I want to stay here a little longer,” I remark, covering myself with my towel. Brutus turns his head partway, with his eyes trained elsewhere.
“…Are you sure?” Brutus asks, a hushed tone, “what if Kamon—“
I rest a hand on his shoulder, smiling despite the burning pain, “there is no need to worry about that anymore, I believe… Kamon has spared me—us, rather. And she has no intention of going back on her word.”
“Her word?” Brutus muses, “what do you mean?”
“You ask too many questions,“ I tug on his sleeve, “and just this once, I want you to take my word for it: we’re free, for lack of a better word,” I say, warmly. He looks down at my hand briefly before returning my gaze.
“If you say so…” Brutus muses, he points with a thumb at the door, “if you want me to wait outside again, I can—“
“No,” I say, the color rushes to my cheeks again, “I don’t mind if you relax in the sauna with me.”
“But what if Olga gets the wrong ide—“ I lean forward and place a finger on his lips.
“Once she comes, she can join us too,” I smile weakly, “I think we all need a break. My worries—and to the extent all of yours—are over, essentially. Though I don’t know what the future may hold,” I wipe Brutus’s still wet eyes carefully, “at least we can pursue happiness—and even freedom, whatever that may entail.”
Brutus sighs, and places his hand over mine. “Very well,” Brutus remarks, “I’ll go… er, to the lockers then and be back,” he gets up with a grunt. Just as Brutus heads out the sauna door, he turns to face me, “though, I think Olga would still rip me to shreds when she sees us together… she scares me, you know.”
“You’ll be fine,” I say reassuringly. Brutus cuts loose a sigh and closes the door behind him. Though, I cannot guarantee he’ll leave this place unscratched. Olga might be a little mad at me, too, but I’m sure she’ll get over it.
As I sink into my seat, I sigh heavily… and thus, with that, my doubts of my future—and Kamon—wash away.