The park was quite in the afternoon.
Untouched by the noise that ruled the city beyond its edges. A long stone path cut through a green field trimmed with care, small white flowers bloomed quietly along both sides.
Lamp posts stood at even distances along the path. Sentinels waiting for evening to arrive.
Further ahead, a fountain murmured to itself. Water rose in smooth arcs before falling back into the basin, creating a steady, peaceful rhythm that blended with the rustling of leaves.
Henry sat alone on a wooden bench.
His posture was straight but relaxed, shoulders slightly lowered. He wore a plain brown shirt. Sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the bandage wrapped around his right hand. The cloth had already begun to crease from movement.
The breeze passed through the park gently, brushing against his hair and clothes. It carried the faint scent of fresh grass and distant water.
The sunlight overhead was soft, not harsh. Just enough to warm the skin without demanding attention.
Henry tilted his head slightly upward. He wasn't watching the fountain. Nor the people occasionally passing in the distance.
He was watching the sky.
Henry's gaze remained fixed on the drifting clouds until a voice came gently.
"Oi… sitting alone again?"
He turned slightly.
Cagaro walked toward him along the stone path. Wearing a blue shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows. His pace was light but there was energy in it. Like someone carrying good news they couldn't keep to themselves.
"Hey!" Cagaro greeted, lifting one hand briefly.
Henry gave a small nod in return.
Cagaro dropped onto the bench beside him with a soft exhale, stretching his legs forward.
"Afternoon's nice today." he muttered, glancing at the open field ahead. "Didn't expect you to pick a place like this."
Henry stayed quiet for a moment. Then Cagaro tilted his head slightly.
"By the way… why were you absent at the funeral?"
The question hung between them.
Henry didn't react immediately. His eyes shifted back to the sky before he answered.
"It wasn't like I didn't want to attend. I went somewhere far… to bury my best— I mean, someone."
Cagaro's smile faded. Enough to show he understood that the answer carried more impacts than the words revealed. He didn't push further.
Instead, Henry turned his head slightly toward him.
"How was your viva?"
That question flipped the mood almost instantly. Cagaro straightened.
He said with visible excitement,
"Oh, it was amazing! Way better than I thought. I was expecting something terrifying, like interrogation with ten people staring at me."
He chuckled lightly.
"But nah… that guy was weirdly chill. Asked questions, joked around and then BOOM! Promotion done."
He leaned forward, "I'm officially a 4-Star Agent now."
"I'm actually excited now. New missions, new people… new faces to meet!"
He leaned back slightly, stretching his arms behind him.
"Feels like things are finally moving forward."
Henry didn't show it openly but somewhere inside, a quiet smile formed.
Seeing Cagaro this excited... he... felt strangely reassuring. Like watching a flame that hadn't yet learned how harsh the wind could be once the real storm begins.
One day will come, Henry thought silently. A day when the world presses hard enough to dull that shine.
He hoped… truly hoped… that day would never arrive.
Both of them sat there, letting the quiet stretch naturally. Their eyes drifted across the park.
Children ran wildly across the field, chasing one another with loud laughter. Their small arguments broke out and ending within seconds. Parents followed along the path, talking about daily worries that sounded heavier than they probably were. Friends walked shoulder to shoulder, sharing stories only they understood. Couples sat closer than necessary, whispering things meant only for each other. Elderly relatives moved slowly together, matching steps without needing to speak much.
Life… happening in simple layers.
Cagaro watched them carefully, then let out a small grin.
"Look at that kid." he muttered, nodding toward a boy trying to kick a ball that kept rolling away from him.
"Bro's fighting for his life against the ball."
"He'll blame the ground most likely." Henry replied calmly.
Cagaro chuckled. "Yeah or the ball. Never himself."
Henry tilted his head slightly. "You used to blame chairs."
Cagaro froze for half a second.
"...That chair attacked me first."
Henry gave him a flat look. Cagaro raised both hands in defense.
"Listen, slipping on polished floors is a war crime waiting to happen."
"You also apologized to the chair afterward."
Cagaro covered his face with one hand.
"Man… you remember the worst things."
Henry didn't reply, but the corner of his lips shifted slightly. Barely noticeable.
Their quiet moment stretched… until a sudden ringtone broke through it. Cagaro blinked and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He glanced at the screen.
"Oh."
He stood up immediately.
"Gotta go." he said quickly. "Caius called. He recently joined a boxing club. He's doing some boxing practice right now. Said I should show up."
He stretched his shoulders once, already energized by the thought.
"I might try too." he added with a grin. "If I survive, I will brag about it later."
Henry nodded once.
Cagaro stepped back from the bench, giving a short wave.
"See you later."
Then he turned and walked off along the stone path. Disappearing gradually into the lively movement of the park.
Henry didn't move after Cagaro left.
His eyes stayed fixed on the sky, watching the clouds thin out slowly, drifting into nothing.
People around him began to leave one by one. The laughter faded first, then the footsteps. Evening slipped away without announcement.
By the time night settled, only a single lamp post above him remained lit, casting a pale circle of light.
A few flies buzzed nearby, quarreling over nothing.
In the theater of life, we fancy ourselves conductors, yet our self-made fantasies are the silent pilots carrying us forward. Roland refused to give up on his ideals, he was also a passenger of his own delusions, not him, we ALL. Awareness is painful. That's why most people prefer the warm comfort of their illusions over the cold light of self-knowledge. People first pray to Gods for help and then people thinks they have become a 'God' just after they gain power. The greatest manipulation is the one you perform on yourself. Convincing yourself you're the victim when you're the architect. What matters is not how you live but how you acknowledge your surroundings. Even if I die here today... who will remember me... Nice... In the end, our lives were already written down by the world before we were born...
Henry sat there beneath the lone lamp post.
Then, without anything, he laughed out a loud.
A loud, awkward burst of laughter tore out of him, echoing across the empty park. It sounded misplaced, like a sound forced into the wrong moment.
The kind of laughter that didn't come from joy but from something breaking inside.
"Hah… hah… hah…!"
The sound bounced off the silent paths and empty benches.
THUD!
Something dropped right in front of him. Henry looked forward.
A pigeon was laying on the ground, barely moving. Its wings twitched weakly. Feathers bent and stained. One side of its body was bruised darkly. It struggled, shaking as if every movement scraped against pain.
Henry leaned forward slowly and picked it up with both hands. The small body trembled against his palms, fragile… helpless.
He stared at it for a second.
Then suddenly shouted into the empty night...
"Who gave permission to pigeons to fly at night?!"
And once again, he laughed, louder this time. Like he meant to laugh on his own joke.
"Hahahaha…!"
His gripped the pigeon but carefully to not hurt it further.
His voice dropped into a whisper,
"Why are you so kind to me… Life…"
END OF VOLUME 1 |
THE WORLD'S REDEMPTION |