"Damn it! I don't care why that woman committed suicide!"
"Where is my box?!"
Today should have been cleaning day, but the servants were too terrified by Mr. Sheikh to enter. The room was filled with the smell of alcohol. The thick carpet was saturated with sweet red wine, making a'squelch squelch' sound when stepped on.
Mr. Sheikh, with disheveled hair and chest hair peeking out from his open shirt, stared with an unfriendly expression at the man before him.
The Inspector sat on the sofa, holding a crumpled cigarette.
In the night, beside the empty second-floor hall, the French doors were pulled open. The Moonlight and night breeze entered, swirling the scent of wine against the brown curtains.
"Mr. Sheikh, I've sent men to search every place Tyah passed through. Nothing, nothing!" The Inspector was also getting impatient. A whole afternoon of running around had caused a large pustule to sprout on the already irritable man's bulbous nose. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused me?"
"The body is covered in marks of abuse. Do you want everyone to know that our Mr. Sheikh—the kind, pious, charitable, devoted husband, a man of perfection—is actually a sadist and a psychological pervert?"
"Is this what you want?!"
"A wife who committed suicide because she couldn't bear the humiliation? And then she lost your things?"
The Inspector rubbed his nose indignantly, accidentally touching the pustule. He grimaced, spat, and picked up a wine bottle from the table, gulping down several mouthfuls.
"If it weren't for me..." The man set the bottle down. When he looked up, the large bump made his nose look even bigger. "If it weren't for the fact that I still have some'slight' power, Mr. Sheikh, things would be looking very bad for you."
The Inspector had braved the pressure to cremate Tyah's body and used his authority to silence the coroner and his detectives. For this, he had received a large sum of cash.
"That was what you owed me, sir. I'll have you remember, I am an Inspector."
Sheikh sneered, propping his legs up on the table and pushing the wine bottle away with his foot. "Yes, Inspector. Well then, you burned a body when the deceased died by suicide. You desecrated—"
"And who was that for?!"
Bang!
Crash.
The table let out a loud thud, and a glass was smashed.
"I paid you!" Sheikh roared.
"The money you gave isn't enough for me to take my men and do a carpet search of half of Cairo!! Sheikh, damn it, you son of a bitch!"
"I don't care about that, I want my box!" Sheikh clawed at his chest frantically, revealing red scratch marks. "Do you know how much that box is worth?"
The Inspector stood up abruptly!
"I don't care how much it's worth." The man in the police uniform looked down at him, pointing a hand at Sheikh. "Have your little mistress—Afawaf, was it? Anyway, that woman who was in contact with Tyah—have her come to the station tomorrow to record a deposition."
"I am at a critical moment for a promotion. Don't cause me trouble, Sheikh. That's your box, not mine."
"In my view, covering up the Tyah matter for you is already proof of our deep friendship."
"Do you know how many scars and how many holes were on her body?"
The two panting men glared at each other. After a long while, Sheikh slowly sat upright in the sofa, braced his knees to stand, and swayed unsteadily under the influence of alcohol.
"Forget it, the things you've done..." The drunken Mr. Sheikh muttered as he swayed, looking down at the carpet for a bottle with some wine left in it.
"Sheikh, you'd better not cause me trouble." The Inspector took a step back and straightened his collar. "Once everyone's depositions are in and the process is finished, I'll have the coroner issue a suicide certificate. Then, please give me the rest of the money."
"Also, you'd better not mention that box to me again."
Avoiding the glass and empty bottles scattered on the floor, the Inspector walked out of the living room with a look of disgust. Meeting two anxious maids at the top of the stairs, he spat loudly again.
"The Master you serve is a piece of foul-smelling trash."
After venting with a few curses, the two maids watched the man leave in a hurry. Only when the loud door slammed shut again did they silently look at each other.
Without Madam Tyah, none of them dared to go up.
—It wouldn't be simple suffering; there had been no shortage of screams coming from the second floor over the years.
"Shh... let's go down first... maybe he's fallen asleep..."
The Moonlight began to thicken from a faint white. By the time the drama ended, the light spilling onto Mori Tsukisa's cheeks was coated in a layer of silver frost that shouldn't exist in this season.
The beautiful silver moon looked down upon the Earth.
The young girl sat on the eaves, with a few newspapers padded under her bottom. She had taken off her shoes and sat barefoot, her legs dangling above the second-floor balcony.
"La la la..."
Arrietty sat on the girl's head, seriously wiping her rapier with a small scrap of cloth.
"What does Her Majesty plan to do?"
In the haziness, the Little Sprite's voice sounded very loud in the silent night.
In the distance, the silver tide wound around the girl under the moon like mist. It was as docile as several tamed snakes, quietly coiling around the slender figure—they drifted, occasionally nuzzling the girl's face or circling her neck. After silently bursting apart, they gathered again in the next moment. Light and mist intertwined in layers, leisurely merging with her black hair.
Mori Tsukisa rested her chin on her knees, hugging her legs as she looked down at this land that had remained silent for thousands of years.
How many people were buried here?
Women and young ladies, or underage girls. They must have been charming and beautiful, full of love and tenderness. Every night, they gazed longingly at the moon. What was it they wanted to see in their simple, clean pupils?
The light-mist of the silver moon could not penetrate the tightly wrapped black robes and veils, nor could the scorching sun of the day.
However, the gaze of a fellow human could achieve a power that even nature could not. It had to be said, this truly was a miraculous World.
Her ethereal voice blended with the Moonlight. Branch-like antlers sprouted from the girl's head as she took a shallow sip of the silver tide from the night sky.
"I want his eyes."
Her voice lamented: "Strung together, encased in gold heated into a liquid—the golden eyeballs from Mr. Sheikh. Eternal organs, self-redemption through the extreme of sadism, the gaze within gold, the gold within the gaze."
"The windows to the soul and the dreams of life, together forever."
"Hmm... what do you think? Little Knight."
Swish!
The tip of the sword danced!
"A better proposal couldn't be made, Your Majesty." The fire-colored figure, smaller than a palm, vanished in a flash.
"La la la..."
The figure under the moon continued to hum an interesting nursery rhyme.
A black cat nimbly jumped onto the eaves, its sleek and athletic body swaying as it slowly approached Mori Tsukisa. It had a golden earring through its right ear.
"Why not just kill him?"
"It's too early. Humans always have to experience more to learn more." Mori Tsukisa hugged her knees. "For Mr. Sheikh, this is even more true."
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