Chapter 126
"We also traveled three months forward in time, Arya. Right after you finished the Étienne d'Arques murder case, we set foot here, in Heraclea Cybistra."
His voice sounded flat, like an officer reading a report, yet there was a warning tone beneath those words.
"Our objective is the same as yours, to capture the Abnormal hiding in the Muddy Ground. Nothing more, nothing less."
Ashita added from beside him, her smile slightly fading.
"We are not your enemies in terms of purpose, Nirma, Arya. We also want that creature not to disrupt the timeline. We also want those eighteen lives avenged. So in truth, we stand on the same side."
But Tegar was not finished.
He tapped the side of his glasses six times in quick succession, rhythmic and precise, and instantly the hologram before his eyes shifted, displaying rows of data and symbols only he could fully comprehend.
When he looked back at Nirma and Arya, something had changed in his expression, something firmer, more official, like a mask that had just been put on.
"The problem," he continued, his voice now carrying the weight of an unquestionable decision, "is that we are bound to the Supreme Command of the Temporal Cross-Police. And the Supreme Command has issued a very clear order. Nirmala Surdaya and Arya, for several years in our timeline, have officially been declared fugitives, hunted and pursued by the Temporal Cross-Police across every era and civilization it can reach."
Ashita nodded slowly, the 4444-era bazooka in her hand lifting slightly, not directly threatening, yet enough to remind that it could be used at any moment.
"We will not allow your hands to interfere with the sealing of this Abnormal," she said, her gentle voice now sounding like a blade hidden between sweet words.
"You may share the same goal, but your status as fugitives means you have no right to interfere. This operation is now under the full control of Ashita-Tegar, the only TCP unit assigned to Constantinople in the year 1101."
Nirma tilted her head slightly to the left, a small movement almost unnoticeable, yet enough to change the intensity of her gaze into something sharper, deeper, like the waters of a well untouched by light.
She smiled, but it was different from Ashita's earlier smile, not one of victory or mockery, but one born from wounds that had hardened, from memories she could never erase no matter how many times she tried.
"Thank you," she said, her voice flat yet strangely sincere.
"Thank you for worrying about us so deeply. Thank you to the leaders of the Temporal Cross-Police for sending their best agents just for two fugitives like us. Truly, an honor we never expected."
Ashita listened, the smile on her lips beginning to fade, something in Nirma's eyes unsettling her, something that reminded her of that night, twenty-three years ago, when she was six years old, crying beside two blood-soaked bodies.
Nirma continued, her voice unchanged, still flat, still calm, like someone reading a weather report.
"Do you remember that night, Ashita?"
Her voice was steady, but each word cut through time like a surgical blade.
"I came to your house. Your parents had just completed their final calculations. The formula was perfect. That time-travel device—they ensured it worked. The holographic display was still active, coordinates set, everything in place. They were satisfied. Perhaps they were imagining the greatest discovery in history."
Nirma paused for a moment.
Her eyes never left Ashita's pale face.
"But before that… there were sounds from inside. Loud sounds. Shouting. Then crying. Not the cry of a baby, but the cry of a frightened child. I peeked through the window. They—your parents—were hitting you. You were only six years old, Ashita. Wearing rabbit pajamas. They were angry because you left your room, maybe you were thirsty, maybe you had a nightmare. They didn't care. They were busy with their discovery. Yet they still found time to vent their frustration on their own child."
Ashita's breathing quickened, the bazooka in her hands lowering slightly.
"I saw everything. Your face marked red, your small body trembling. Then they returned to the holographic screen, as if nothing had happened. Even after perfecting the formula, after confirming the time device worked, they didn't look at you. They didn't ask if you were okay. They didn't stroke your hair. They were only occupied with their own eternity."
Nirma drew a long breath.
"Then you came out again. Maybe you wanted to apologize. Maybe you just wanted attention. You whined, asking them to take you to the park. And them? They agreed. As if agreeing erased all the violence before. As if promising to take you to the park tomorrow made them good parents."
Ashita's grip on the bazooka loosened completely.
"I shot them, Ashita. Twice. Right in the head. They died before they realized who had come. Before they could think about their discovery. Before they could pat your head."
Nirma smiled faintly, but her eyes burned.
"And you were right there. Your rabbit pajamas, your swollen face, the marks of slaps still red on your cheeks. You saw me. You saw them. You saw my gun still smoking. And you cried. You cried until neighbors around the park began to gather."
Silence.
Arya beside Nirma did not move.
He knew Nirma had a dark past—he knew it in broad strokes, knew there was resentment, knew there was blood.
But he had never known the details.
He looked at Ashita, the woman with orange hair and the wound on her left eye, and for the first time, he saw something fragile behind her cold mask, something that had long been hidden behind her radiant smile and graceful demeanor.
Tegar beside her did not move either, yet his fingers near his temple stopped, the hologram before his eyes freezing as if the entire system had been affected by the sudden silence enveloping the hill.
Nirma continued, her voice now slightly trembling, for the first time today revealing genuine emotion.
"And before I left, I approached you. I knelt before you, wiped the tears streaming down your cheeks, and said, 'You will grow into a strong woman, Ashita. You will hate me, you will search for me, you will want to kill me. But remember, this is not about you or me. This is about something greater than all of us.' Then I left, leaving you among two corpses and a pair of rabbit pajamas."
Ashita lowered her head, her orange hair no longer appearing elegant, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly with her uneven breaths.
When she lifted her face again, her eyes were wet, yet no tears fell, only a pool ready to spill at any moment.
"You think I forgot?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, different from before.
"You think I never relive that night every time I close my eyes? You think this wound in my eye doesn't remind me of the gunshots that shattered my sleep?"
She raised the 4444-era bazooka, aiming it directly at Nirma, her hands trembling violently.
"I was trained, I was forged, I was made to become the best agent so that one day I could stand before you, Nirma. So that I could ask—why? Why did you do that? Why did you kill them?"
To be continued…