Chapter 73

Chapter 73 I Next

There was a time when he should have led a life centered on himself, a life that sought only wealth.

When he raised his gaze, realization dawned he was in the midst of a dream. A soft laugh escaped from Demian, surprised by the familiarity of the scene.

It has been ages since I last saw this scene.

The setting was an aged sewer, with decaying wooden planks scattered around. Rats were skittering between them, chased by a hand intent on swatting them away. And he was the one moving that hand.

Swinging it to and fro.

His frail hand would wave, expressing his irritation, as his brows furrowed. His sole aim was to keep the rats at bay, so he could sleep in peace. The narrative he had fed himself was indeed a banquet of deceit.

It felt uncannily like the past.

As a child, this was my everyday routine.

The sewer served as their home a sanctuary for him and his mother, and them alone. His father was an absent figure. To be exact, he had never encountered him. According to his mother, he was a man of nobility, belonging to a distinguished lineage.

His mother would often say that he should find his father when he grew older. But her words found no resonance in him. It just didnt seem plausible. The harsh truth of their existence was too overpowering.

The morsels of bread his mother procured through begging?

The coins stumbled upon in the streets by sheer luck?

These were far from sufficient. The food was always scarce, and his mothers medication was a necessity too. Life was akin to a decomposing plank in a sewer, filled with hardship and humiliation.

Money was needed, and the thought of resorting to theft crossed his mind, but it wasnt feasible. Instead, he was forced to beg alongside his mother.

Thats why I found myself shooing away rats, day after day. Just like now.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience

While begging, beatings were a common occurrence. Attempts to shield his head from a kick? His hand would invariably end up wounded.

Bandages?

Medication?

Such things were out of their reach. His hands and fingers were perpetually covered in scabs. Receiving any form of treatment was an impossibility. Even having a clean cloth to wrap around his wounds was a luxury they couldnt afford.

So, he cried every day. His sobs echoed in the sewer as he hid his injuries, the rancid odor of the place serving as a harsh reminder of their circumstances. The disgusting rats that would congregate around his scabs each night He never thought he would revisit those moments, even in a dream.

Even though it was a dream, he found it amusing.

But then, something happened.

Zap!

A sharp noise reverberated throughout the humid sewer. The rotten plank in the sewer shook, sending the pestering rats scurrying into the distance. Flies dropped from the air as bubbles began to surface in the filthy water, littered with waste.

A cold crescent moon rose from the bubbles. A figure emerged slowly from within the moon. A silhouette he found endearing. A silhouette he longed for.

Mother?

His mother from those days was approaching him. The same mother who would use whatever rags she could find to keep him warm each night. She smiled wearily at him and said,

Youre even sleeping in such a situation. Im not sure whether to call you audacious or shameless.

..

Demian awakened from his dream, his cold eyes sparkling. Any remorse over the dream, which was a blend of affection and sadness? Certainly not. Instead, he turned towards the direction from where the voice had emanated. A man with a gaunt face stood there.

An interrogator. Three days ago, an inquisitor from the Imperial Palace was dispatched to Cremo. As he faced the interrogators emotionless, or rather, cold and calculating gaze, Demian was left with a thought.

He should have led a life centered on himself, a life that sought only wealth.

In my two decades as an interrogator, youre the first one to doze off like this. Napping while I stepped out for a bit? Despite being bound to a chair? Ha.

The inquisitor laughed, seemingly amused by the absurdity of the situation. Then he asked,

Your name is Demian Cayeen, correct? Have you still not grasped the seriousness of your current predicament?

I have.

You have?

..

So a person who knows that the Crown Prince has been abducted by the Minotaurus, whose life hangs in the balance, and is being investigated under the cloud of this suspicion and accountability, can sleep soundly? Really?

..

Because you havent allowed me a wink of sleep in the past three days. Youve locked me up in this dank underground cell and subjected me to the same line of questioning under the guise of interrogation. Demian thought to himself.

The interrogator scowled.

It has been six days since the Crown Prince was taken by the beast. The news took a day to reach the Imperial City, and another two days for me to arrive here. During these three days, you and your fellow alleged conspirators in this place have squandered precious time pretending to search for him. You havent found the Prince. Worse, you havent found even the simplest of clues or evidence.

Where the Minotaur escaped to. Its motives behind creating such havoc. Where is Guines, who purchased the Minotaur at the auction house that day, vanished to amidst the chaos. Youve discovered no leads, you and your lot.

Do you have a defense? Or are you going to claim that you tried your hardest, but there was nothing you could do? No. From my perspective, its different. You didnt fail to uncover the clues, you overlooked them. Or concealed them. With the intention to harm the Crown Prince.

Am I correct?

The interrogator leaned forward, close enough to study him with a cold, analytical gaze. Again. The same questions that had been posed to him over the last three days. By now, he could recite them verbatim. Demian posed a counter-question.

Do you intend to conclude that I, the mayor of Cremo and all those who accompanied the Crown Prince conspired with a mere beast, the Minotaur, to kidnap and harm the Crown Prince?

I dont aim to jump to such a conclusion, I aim to expose the truth. With a candid confession.

The special duty guards and the other guards were all entrapped in their respective cages like wild beasts. The solemn-faced mayor of Cremo was also confined. The deplorable condition of everyone was beyond description. The interrogator laughed with greater satisfaction.

Will it provide some solace to be incinerated together?

What?

Get moving!

No opportunity for rebuttal was granted. The wagon began its journey. It descended the hill, traversed the city, and reached the dock.

There, a stack of firewood awaited. Beside the pile of firewood, there was a colossal post reminiscent of a fishing rod, with chains similar to fishing lines spread out. It was a special crane used to hoist large cargo onto the ships at the dock.

Lets start with this one.

The interrogator directed his finger this way. The inspection team proceeded methodically. They relocated the cage containing Demian to the side of the crane. They affixed the cage onto the loop of the cranes chain. Then they operated the pulley.

Creak! Creeak!

Accompanied by the screeching sound of grinding metal, the chain was wound up. The cage he was in was hoisted entirely into the air. Like bait snared on a fishing line.

.

Demian grasped the severity of his situation.

The cage was suspended in the air. He was confined within. And beneath? A heap of firewood. An oily smell emanated from the stacked firewood.

They plan to immolate me alive.

Crack!

His teeth ground together as comprehension dawned. The interrogators pleased laughter filled the air.

Have you grasped the situation? Good. Youre not a simpleton, after all. So you comprehend whats coming next? I will set you ablaze. You, ensnared within this cage, will shriek and sob. Until those shrieks and sobs transform into pleas for mercy, into confessions of your sins, the fire will remain lit.

.

So, its not too late. Speak up. You plotted with the Minotaur to harm the prince. Admit your crimes and beg for clemency.

Madness.

Demian trembled.

He should have lived egotistically. He should have been concerned solely about wealth. He should not have fretted over the captured crown prince. He shouldnt have prayed fervently for his well-being.

Is it too late?

Should he flee?

Regardless of the subsequent consequences. Even if hes deemed a runaway throughout the empire. Irrespective of what becomes of those left behind. Should he snap these chains, break free from the cage, escape and never look back, not feel remorse for failing to protect the prince, not concern himself with the princes safety.

Should he flee like that?

Demian was tormented. In truth, the conclusion was clear. He didnt wish to perish pointlessly in such a place.

My apologies, Your Highness the Crown Prince.

He made his decision.

Break the chains.

Just as he was about to exert force on his wrists. Just as an inspector, catching the interrogators signal, was about to hurl a torch into the pile of firewood.

Moooooooo-!

Unanticipatedly, or perhaps perfectly, a recognizable (?) outcry resonated abruptly. It surged closer, slicing through the sea ahead. A huge form revealed itself, parting the waves.

Whoosh-!

.!

The crashing wave and water droplets. Bursting through the waves and springing onto the pier was a colossal beast.

Roooar-!

Minotaur?

Demian hesitated.

The inspector was taken aback. The interrogator was even more dumbfounded. Everyone congregated at the pier was frozen. Perhaps because it was too sudden. Or perhaps it was too staggering. Everyone was enveloped in an awkward silence and stillness.

Meanwhile, the Minotaur moved.

Thud, thoom,

with a sound that made hearts pound, and then again, thoom.

Mooooo!

There was no time to hinder it. It extended its arm. The Minotaur seized the cage imprisoning Demian with both hands. Snap, it ripped the chain tethered to the crane. Then a voice echoed from atop the Minotaurs neck.

What is this? Whats happening? Why are those who strived the hardest to protect me being treated in this manner?

.

In that moment, Demian spotted him. Simultaneously, a realization dawned in his heart. He was relieved he hadnt lived selfishly. At least this time, it was beneficial that he cared about others and not solely about wealth.

Atop the Minotaurs neck. There stood a man looking down at him with a confident posture and eyes filled with concern.

It was Crown Prince Raciel.

(To be Continued)

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