亚洲综合中美

“Yeah. He worked in Hidros not long before moving to the new continent. I tell you, the food he cooks is the best in the world. If matters turned out a little differently, I tell you, I might not have been here today. I could have been a chef working for myself or in a renowned restaurant. Who can say, what comes often goes, remains are naught but what we wish we could alter.”

Vanesa and Syhton choose their focus; food or conversation. The choice was clear, they made it easy to ignore Igna and enjoy what came upon trays. Cordial staff, a longing look from management, envious scatters from the lower floors – this was life as he had known.

‘I left a life of luxury, one where I ruled at the top,’ the restaurant’s backdrop brightened, and taps of grand piano emulated the atmosphere, calling in a deeper sensation of belief and reflection. He watched, softly chewing the meat of scarce rarity, monster meat. ‘I visited the tower of Aria, there was nothing to be found. Monsters disappeared. Should I have stayed longer, Engraste would have escaped. I choose Eira in the end, was it for family or the simple fact that she’s useful. Who can say, truly, who gets to say what defines my intentions? I’m whole, playing a character from the start. No one suspect or challenges my intentions. Am I who I say I am or another character? Alfred vanished, the selfish bastard. Who’d known, the Curse King had daddy issues? Repulses me even thinking about it.’

Syhton’s long fingers waved, her telling gaze egged, ‘-someone’s behind,’ he made no motion, instead choosing food. Vanesa’s listless stares crossed the newer guest, she watched top to bottom and fell onto the replenished plate. Syhton’s clear blue pupils rose, snapping at a stranger, a warm brush of air lit the latter’s cheeks. She noticed the increased breathing, ‘-already won,’ crossed her mind, ‘-leave it to him I suppose.’

The gentleman; dressed according to the restaurant’s code, wore a pink shirt tucked into checkered grey pants ending near his ankle. The brown leather shoe told off class for its design but was mediocre in terms of quality. ‘Strange,’ Igna caught a glance in his peripheral, ‘-the top and bottom look expensive, and I’m sure he’s well associated. The shoes and the socks, they’re not of the same make and quality. They look cheap, who is this man?’

“Pardon me,” came a shaky out-breath, “-might I have a word with you?” he horned onto Igna. Without fail, Igna ignored the interaction – focusing his attention on Syhton’s beauty and charm. “Excuse me,” said the man once more in a stronger tone, “-might I have a word?” Igna rose his brows, “-a word?” he narrowed, “-and who might you be?”

.....

“My name’s Fedia Duquant, the son of Mayor Duquant. I come on behalf of my father.”

“Fedia Duquant?” Igna’s piercing eyes rattled Fedia’s curled hair and brown complexion. The man stuttered for a bit, not knowing when or how to react. An awkward silence settled, Fedia fidgeted.

An interface lit, ‘-Elixia,’ wrote across the lens, ‘-Scan this fellow.’

“As you wish, master,” a line lowered from Fedia’s sharp forehead towards the ground. More squares seemed to take in data from the man’s actual position. A separate column displayed multiple files, the borders ranged from white – meaning publicly available to red, indicating infraction of secure data, and sometimes, black, meaning state or agency-protected secrets. The particular column ambered a reddish color for it linked to the Istra’s judicial system. ‘-Loke Huen – wanted criminal suspect of assassination, grand theft auto, fraud, and conspiracy to commit terrorism.’

‘Interesting,’ he lowered cutleries, “-Fedia Duquant was it?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s have a chat.”

They exited and entered a side alley, one linking one side to another. Few people used said path, and shadows of adjacent buildings made the walk more dangerous than it ought to be. The uneven ground – cracked and dug out at parts, made for a risky journey. One misstep and a sprained ankle or a mugging. Igna kept the walk until a rusty gate opened into the restaurant’s back. Shadows from taller buildings rendered the area somber and chilly.

“You have my attention,” Igna said, lighting a cigarette.

“I was asked to meet with you.”

“By whom?”

“By a certain individual. I can’t exactly say her name.”

“Right,” Igna paused, “-tell me, Fedia, what is an aristocrat such as yourself have to do with delivering messages? Surely the life of a noble is more exciting?”

“I don’t know,” the man watched on enviously, “-I change, you know, like a change of scenery,” he inched ever so closer, “-you’re also very rich.”

“I’m rich with knowledge.”

“No, no, I don’t mean knowledge, I mean materialistic,” a sharpened look crossed, Igna made no remarks at the flash of murderous intent, “-you and your wife’s car. Obnoxiously enjoying extravagant meals whilst more than half the town folk stare for food and basic necessities.”

“Fedia,” remarked Igna, “-the character is slipping. If you are to wear a mask, make sure the strings are attached. Otherwise,” he dipped in behind Fedia and pulled the cigarette against the man’s long neck.

“Otherwise what? You’ll burn me to death?”

“No,” the cigarette transformed, the blade gleamed, “-I’ll give thee a fate worse than death.

“...” neither gave way, Igna eventually returned the blade into a cigarette, “-Fedia Duquant, tell me, why are you here to meet with me.”

He coughed, touching his neck for signs of blood, “-how strong are you?” said a gulp, “-I want to know who you are, mister.”

“Same goes for me,” returned Igna, “-I’m no one special. Only a man who came into wealth due to circumstances. Tell me more about the town Duquant, I’m new around here, and I wish to understand how Istra works.”

Words formulated, Fedia primed his lips, ‘-do not reveal any information,’ hammered from the depths of his mind, ‘-in no way are you engaged in conversation. The man’s a manipulator, he will do anything to get what he wants. You son of nobility, must act your status and show power when the moment arises. Such the will of our priestess, you shan’t fail, Fedia, you shan’t fail, else,’ coupled with the warning came disturbing images of a morgue, ‘-the others might feel more.’

He gathered his strength and looked up, “-nothing to talk about. I came the deliver this message from the port master. He has agreed to grant a spot in the harbor on condition that the officials agree to his terms. Quip pro quo,” Fedia cleared his throat, “-now that’s done, I shall take my leave. Good day.”

Igna made no effort to match the sentiment. He puffed and observed, picking everything movement or tell Fedia might leave. The man’s clops echoed into the distant crowd. Thus, with a nonchalant shrug, Igna snuffed the cigarette and reentered the restaurant.

“How was it?” beamed Syhton under a golden chandelier.

“I should be the one asking,” he smiled, “-how was the meal?”

She shifted sideways, allowing Igna to peer deeper inside, “-ah, Vanesa’s fast asleep. Very well,” he handed over his card, “-go take care of payment. I’ll see to our gluttonous daughter.” The exchange happened just shy of the normal room’s guest. Jealousy-filled stares wrote death sentences on multiple counts to Igna and Syhton.

“He has money, connections, a lovely family, and a beautiful wife. Life is unfair sometimes,” whispered passing comments. Igna carried Vanesa on his back, her satisfied expression was one to be experienced.

“Shall we?” she waited at the entrance; the family exited. Tall buildings and multiple windows felt normal at first glance, however, deep behind the veil of commonality lived humanity’s vices. ‘Fedia ambled into the room without resistance. There were guards on our way out. In the back alley, he didn’t seem phased by the darkness or the reputation of Istra.’

“Alchemist,” Igna paused, “-might we have a word?”

‘Why does he look frightened?’ Igna wondered, their red coupé thundered its way near the restaurant steps. Syhton took Vanesa, “-go check,” she whispered, “-might be important.”

He backtracked towards Kyle, ‘-he seems more on edge.’

“Igna, you have to leave Istra, else they’ll get you,” he reentered the premises, leaving Igna at a standstill, ‘-I’m right. SSY; Location scan!’ Syhton and Vanesa shut their doors, *BOOOOOOOOM!* a ball of fire engulfed the vehicle, shattering nearby windows and shaking the ground. Curious bystanders ran to the street.

“Location scanned, enemies detected,” silhouette manifested through buildings. ‘And they killed my wife and daughter,’ he watched as the car’s remains burnt, ‘-good. I expected this sort of outcome. Now,’ he focused on the reaction, ‘-Kyle’s visibly shook, he knows something but not too much. The guests are terrified and seeing the explosion came as a shock to everyone. Hiding in plain sight; doesn’t apply here. What’s the nature of the explosion?’ he walked towards the wreckage. Helpers ran with fire extinguishers and water buckets, ‘-Istra, Istra, you are a town criminal. I’ll fit in nicely.’

“Alchemist!”

“Kyle,” he stopped, “-don’t get any closer, they might put a bounty on your head. Feign ignorance, for it’s the only sure way of survival.”

Meanwhile, thrust on her knees with heads to a statue’s feet, “-priestess, we have news from the town, a wife and daughter were killed in another terrorist attack. They’re the family who moved into town. What are your orders?”

“Leave them be,” she prayed, “-I will hear none of this incident. Do no bring that man’s name in my presence,” her jaws tightened, ‘-Igna, if you dare get in my way, I will make certain your life becomes hell. Do not think I’m the same old goddess you tamed. I am Gophy, the Goddess of Chaos, I will get my revenge, I will get my way, trust.’

Police, firefighters, and medics rushed onto the scene. The sirens rang loudly with red. The fire went away, leaving a smoldering remain of the car. The investigators scribbled on their notepads and looked around. A comment slip, “-good thing it was the visitors,” into Igna’s peripheral.

“Are you the owner?” inquired an officer.

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to ask a few questions.”

“Go ahead,” he lit a cigarette. The officer didn’t take the gesture well as he raised his brow, “-where were you?”

“The entrance,” he pointed at the restaurant.

“Who was in the car?”

“My wife and my daughter.”

“Did the car have a history of malfunction?”

“You tell me,” he rose an uncaring stare, “-I bought the car at the nearby agency. Ask them. It’s of recent make, the most expensive model they had. Why would I waste my time checking if a brand-new car’s explosive capabilities.”

“Sir, please calm down.”

“Calm down, yes?” he puffed into the officer’s face, “-tell me, are you the one who said it was a good thing the explosion took the lives of my family? I suppose it’s no great harm when the latter is done to a visitor. The judicial department won’t be shamed; an act of random terrorism. Drop the act,” he stood sharply, “-tell your superior officer to watch his back. Istra’s the breeding grown for criminals and low-lives. They’ve yet seen a true monster,” he smirked, “-they will know who’s who,” and disappeared into a nearby alley.

‘I couldn’t move,’ the officer shuddered. Pearly sweat of pure fear fell, ‘-I couldn’t say anything... who was he, what did he do? Why is my heart racing,’ he watched the wreckage. Charred remains were pulled and placed onto stretchers – the medics laughed as did the officers, ‘-were we this corrupt?’

“Throw ’em in the ambulance. We’ll sign some papers and have ’em cremated,” exhaled the coroner, “-another case wrapped up boys. Let’s go,” he tapped the van twice, the sirens and presence carried into the distance. “Who’s up for some fast food?”

The deep-seated bicolored pupils glowed, ‘-Istra’s a fun place. I’m going to enjoy this,’ he waited before a metallic door, ‘-well then,’ he kicked the door clean off, entered the room overlooking the street, cocked Tharis, *BANG, BANG, BANG,* a trail of white escaped the barrel, “-the Devil’s in town,” he laughed.