'I just shot a person.'
I wrapped my arms around my legs, pulling them closer while I dug my face in between the tiny gap. My grip tightened as I muttered beneath my breath.
'I just shot a person,' I repeated, before lifting my head up. My hands trembled, stained with blood only I could see. It was the first time I had ever used a gun, and the sound of the shot still echoed in my ears, ringing over and over, haunting me. Blood pouring out of that man's knee—the scene was still vivid in my mind. He deserved it, I thought, trying to reassure myself, but it didn't work. I could have hit him back or tried to knock him out; there was no need for me to shoot.
My body had moved on its own back there; what if it did that again? What if, the next time, I end up killing somebody? Could Zoras handle that? Could I handle that?
My hands were still trembling.
With those trembling hands, I took out the gun from my coat, keeping it inside my drawer. I hung my coat and my hat behind the door, before turning my attention towards Lune.
Right, my concern right now should be her.
'Lune?' I called out, gently shaking her shoulders. 'Wake up…'
My voice was slow, barely audible, even to myself. If I looked at myself in the mirror, I would probably see a face that was weary and scared. To think a single gunshot would take such a mental toll on me.
I took a deep breath, letting out a sigh before taking a seat next to her. She probably had a long day as well, I thought, deciding to not wake her up.
'What do I do now?'
For at least a little while, we would need to watch our backs whenever we left the house. It was dark, but we weren't wearing anything that would cover our faces. Those three would remember us. Definitely. Perhaps they might even show up with their own weapons the next time.
'I feel hungry…'
My stomach growled in protest. I did know how to cook; maybe I could make a bowl of soup for the two of us. Of course, it wouldn't compare to anything that Lune or my wife would make, but at least it wouldn't be the worst thing she'd ever have.
It would be ruder of me to not have something prepared for when she woke up. More than that, it would be a good distraction from everything else.
At that moment, I didn't want to think about anything.
Not about returning home.
Not about shooting people.
Nothing.
I headed downstairs to the kitchen, which was small, but not as small as the one we had back in New York. The stove was on the slab, connected with a thick golden tube to a gas cylinder below. I turned the knob on the cylinder, letting the gas flow up the tube, then the knob on the stove, before picking up the lighter and pressing the piston.
A bright blue flame erupted from the stove, dancing carelessly atop its black, porous stage. I took out the pot from the cupboard below, filling it with water before placing it on the stove to boil. While that was going, I pulled out a few potatoes from the fridge, which was something I didn't expect this world to have. There were drawers for vegetables easily accessible from the outside, and above that there were shelves that could be pulled out if there wasn't enough space in the lower shelves.
I washed the potatoes, before skinning them and dropping them in the pool of boiling water. I took out a few more stuff, carrots, beetroot, and more, and did the same. What I was trying to cook was vegetable soup. I closed the lid, letting everything boil inside, while I chopped the garlic, ginger and spring onions.
'Do we have any corn,' I wondered, looking around, but it seemed we had none. I checked to see if the vegetables were done boiling, which they were, so I took them off the stove, and placed a different pot. I poured some oil, letting it heat a little, before pouring the garlic, ginger and spring onions from earlier. I added the boiled vegetables on top of that, and finished it off with some chopped cabbage leaves. I let them cook for a while, their sweet aroma filling the kitchen, asserting their presence.
I poured some water, before covering it with a lid and letting it finish cooking. In a different bowl, I stirred some cornstarch with water, which I gently poured in the soup, stirring continuously till it turned slightly thick. Finally, I added some pepper and salt, before taking it off the stove and turning off the heat. I took out two bowls and two spoons, pouring it gently among them, trying my best not to spill.
'Oh wait!'
I took out another bowl, dividing the soup in three. I had almost forgotten, but Fjorcroft was coming too…at least he said he would be coming, after he was done with whatever he had to do.
Let's not think about that.
I covered his bowl with a plate and took the other two upstairs to my room. Lune was still asleep, her innocent face lacking any hint of whatever had transpired.
I placed her bowl on the table, and took a sip from mine. It was decent: nothing special, but it wasn't bad.
'Now then…'
I pondered on what my next course of action should be. There was a good chance that Fjorcroft might run into the people from earlier, and if that happened, I needed to have a good excuse prepared for why I had a gun on me.
Ding—the doorbell rang.
Was he home already?
What was I supposed to say?
I took the gun out of my drawer and quickly tucked it in the pocket of an old coat in my wardrobe.
'But what if it wasn't Fjorcroft?'
I almost pulled out the gun again, but the memory of me shooting was still vivid. Images of blood pouring from their knees and shoulders flashed before my eyes. What if I shot them in the heart this time?
I took my hand away from the handle.
'Do I have anything else?' I wondered, looking around the house, when I saw a wooden broom leaning against the wall of a room. This will do, I thought, picking it up as I slowly walked towards the door.
Ding—the bell rang again.
I held the broom like it was a sword, gripping it with both my hands, ready to swing at a moment's notice.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
I swallowed the air in my throat, before leaning slightly, and with one eye closed, I looked through the peephole, but to my surprise, it was neither Zoras' brother, nor the wounded men from earlier.
Why was he here, I wondered, putting the broom down and opening the door.
'Took you long enough,' he said as he walked in, his stride confident, as if he had been here a thousand times before, and that he very much had.
Silver hair, long and unruly, and almond eyes with bags underneath: he probably hadn't slept in days, and from the smell that reeked from his body, probably hadn't showered either. His clothes were covered in dust and stains, full of wrinkles, and his appearance was a mess, but Clint was never the kind to care about appearances. He had probably been buried in his room all week studying potions and artefacts and curses of old.
'What brings you here?' I asked, confused. It was pretty late already, and Clint wasn't the kind to leave his chambers in the first place.
'What do you mean?' He raised his brow. 'You were the one who called me over.'
Shit.
'Oh yeah! Right…I forgot, how silly of me.'
He looked at me, suspicious, before letting out a sigh and walking towards my room. 'This is bad,' I thought to myself. My lack of memories had gotten the better of me, and now I had no idea why Zoras had called him here. Clint was the last person I wished to see. Versed in the study of curses, it wouldn't be strange for him to think that I had been possessed and needed to be exorcised. Who knows what would happen to me then?
I followed him, carefully, trying my best to mimic Zoras while I tried to figure out the reason he would be here. I wondered if it had something to do with my current situation. It was possible, and if that was the case, maybe Clint might know how to help me.
But it was risky.
No, I thought. I couldn't blow my cover just yet.
It could also be that the reason why Zoras called him over was completely different. Perhaps he simply wanted to hang out?
…Of course not.
He entered my room, and I followed after him.
'You made soup?' he asked, looking at the table, then at Lune's sleeping body. 'And why is she up here?' he questioned further.
'It's a long story,' I replied, finding myself a seat on the little space the bed still had, and Clint sat on the floor below, but before we could continue any further, I changed my mind.
'Let's sit in a different room,' I said. His body odor had already invaded the place quite well, and if it got any worse, I was afraid Lune might pass out the second she woke up; I myself was on the verge of passing out.
'Whatever you say,' he said, pushing himself up. The two of us headed downstairs, to Lune's room.
'Coffee?' I asked him as he sat on the floor.
'Not in the mood,' he said, his voice cold as stone. 'So? What did you call me for?'
Damn you, Zoras, I cursed in my head. At least he didn't have any idea why he was called, but I needed to make up a reason quickly.
'I found something I wanted to show you,' I blurted out. What did I have to show him? Nothing.
'Oh? It better be worth making me leave my room.'
'Of course! I'll bring it now.'