“You must be kidding me…”
“As a prisoner of war, I was originally used as a laborer. Later, I was brought here from the streets because of my medical skills. I have been here for nearly ten years and am the most senior maid here,” said the head maid as she put her hand on her chest. She did not say it with pride or sorrow. “You must have noticed that the servants working here are mostly humans. Before you came here, no one had a status as high as yours. Do not tell me that seeing you like this should not arouse our curiosity?”
He reflected on his past as a captive and immediately turned away in disgust, trying to shake off the heavy mental shackles… “I am curious, what identity are you assuming when asking me this?”
“That of a head maid,” she replied, with a cunning look in her eyes. “My job is to manage people.”
To ensure that the young human servants behaved discreetly and that they do their jobs as instructed by the head maid, she had to gather interesting tales to use as tools. Although her explanation may have been an excuse, it was enough to persuade him. He scratched his head hopelessly.
Where should he begin?
Should he start from the moment when he was sent to the battlefield unarmed in the Kingdom of the Sun? From when he became a prisoner of war and fought to survive in the Colosseum? Or from his decision to voluntarily become a warrior for the lizards and return to the Kingdom of the Sun to kill countless fellow humans?
—Those were not stories worth bragging about.
His past was neither glorious nor special; it was just something that he had to go through in order to survive.
He was used to being played by destiny—always being pulled back to the battlefield when he tried to escape and always escaping death when he tried to die peacefully—it was as if there was an external force controlling his life, causing him to always wander to the edge of darkness.
If he was destined to be a man who had to kill for a living, at least give him a light that could paralyze his pain or deceive himself into thinking that there was still hope. He would do anything for that feeling, even if it meant that he had to become dirty and despicable.
As long as he could ensure that she was alive, he was willing to do anything.
“I am just an ordinary crazy person. There is nothing more to know.” This was what he decided to say in the end.
“Is there such a thing as ordinary crazy people?”
“To be alive in this world, you have to be crazy about something.”
He stood by the bed, picturing how the girl had also stood there. He held out his hand, but could not grasp the light. Even the warm memory of meeting her for the first time had started to fade. The longer she was gone, the more he was unable to remember her face and the more he began to lose his mind.
“Well, what are you crazy about then?” asked the head maid hesitantly.
“—I am still searching for it.”
He lowered his head, clenching his fists quietly.
He did not expect to hear himself sound so vulnerable.