Ismael woke up feeling emptier than ever before. His angel opened his own eyes at the same time as him so Ismael would feel as though he can still see, and the vision was clear, and the sun was on him. A sigh of bitterness and he heard steps on his left.
A tall man was drinking of a large bottle and seeing the two, finished his bottle and threw it on the wall to break it.
"Why you two mongrels staring at me for?"
"My name is Ismael, what's yours?"
"Geulsang Zhao. I live in this area."
"Do you own the place?"
"Do I look like I own anything? A thin coat and some shredded pants, you think I own this place?"
"Just asking..."
"How about you tell me how you got your eyes mangled, shooter?" He asked, getting closer and sitting down in front of him. He had long hair and piercing eyes. White skin.
"I was involved in the Killing of Nara, years and years ago, now I got engaged in a battle of endurance and wits against some demonic entities."
The man kept staring, more and more viciously. Smiling, no change in character.
"Sir, do you wish to know more?"
"Do not strand me, winged beast. I relish that I have found myself a new enemy."
"I'm not your enemy. I have enough already."
"You didn't mention a quota in your summary. I have decided I would destroy your life."
"I'm dead."
"I'll destroy your death. Whatever you have in you. Too bad you stumbled upon me, huh? Could have been anything or anyone else."
"Would have been less annoying."
"So you come from Cressenie, right? The west, sheer luck that I got you here. I don't like people from Cressenie. Screw you people."
"Anyone you meet you threaten?"
"More or less yeah. You struck me as the type of deep thinker that talks in their head more than they talk out loud."
"That would be me."
"That's it, pull out a knife, I'm killing you."
"Excuse me?"
"What are you a man? Fight. You don't need any reason to fight, right? Nara killers killed for killing. Stop acting like a saint out of nowhere you fake psycho. I said pull a damn knife. Use it. Instincts, up. Voice, down. Come on, shooter."
"I could release some steam."
Ismael rose as Geulsang prepared something, his gaze, between his hair, his damn eyes of a serial killer, staring ever so deeply, like a predator in a jungle on the verge of biting the neck of his prey. He lashes at Ismael who defends himself, realizing cutting this man serves no purpose, and so as he steps back, Geulsang grabs firmly his coat and cuts his throat.
"Look at you, gushing blood. Get back up and do something."
"What do you even want to acheive?"
"It's the morning, it's sunny, painfully hot and overall extremely irritating. Everything is. Ah, if you don't wanna fight, can't force you."
"What is it you even do in life?"
"What I just did. The people I kill I throw their bodies in the river in the back. I won't lie it's peaceful. Enclosed space, nobody can see, rain usually pours on the glass, you don't suffocate too much, there's ways to breathe and you always have things to talk about."
"Good for you, local deranged man. Have it your way."
"Come on, I'll show you."
"Passage's kinda narrow."
"You don't have to trust me, coward. I'm offering you a place to stay."
Ismael followed him and enjoyed the fences and the overwhelming presence of greenery all around. Inside and outside.
"It's...honestly heavenly. Water flows and no interruption."
"Precisely. It's telling me, you know, time goes by, and there is nothing you can do about it. It flies by, and yet, every drop is identical. It is the sum up of all of them that makes up this flow, this river. All that you witness in this world shows you that time is the ultimate value. Borderless, boundless. Our perception, no matter how delicate and deep and thoughtful it may be, remains unconsequential to it. You can't stop time nor influence it, but you can use it to your advantage. I've learned to live with nothing to build character. The more you depend on people the more they distract you from the saint graal."
"Which is?"
"Understanding this world before it kills us. So I hate thinking in my head only, I suffocate easily, quickly. I talk out loud."
"Who's listening?"
"Exactly. You talk out loud so God hears you. The idea that he understands your heart is kind and caring but painful. For a real conversation, I would need God to talk back."
"I always thought God would talk back in actions."
"I presumed so. Few are aware of the Ways of Life. The Way of Heaven, the Way of Hell and Way of Purgatory. You said you were dead, are you the third one?"
"I am. I have a gift. Let me know if you have someone buried, I'll show you if they are in Heaven or Hell."
"Can you actually do that?"
"Yes, easily. My friends became weapon traffickers after the war, and me and my wife tried to kill them to set them free. Realized I am no better than them but worse. My wife died while I was tied to a chair, in front of me she died gruesomely. Third friend killed her."
"You expect me to believe you had a wife? And of all things, you geared up, went out there and had her killed?"
"See, you travel a little bit and you find worse than you."
"I've never seen anything like it. Well, it lives."
"What does?"
"Your hope, your gift. You can actually exerce a reversal on your beliefs and ideas. Use your gift on her tomb and see where she is. Most people die not knowing. But you, what God gave you is a closure. A possibility to know for sure."
"Yes. She is up there."
"So you actually checked. Well, there you have it."
"Geulsang Zhao. I heard of an enemy, a woman in this world, far worse than even Genova."
"You're looking for Capucine. A deranged young woman, she enslaves people in her castle."
"Well...how much do you know exactly?"
"I've looked around, shooter. I've seen a few things of my own. You want to see her, you better prepare to see things that obliterate the realm of possibilities."