Chapter 114

The next day, he woke up without even seeing the sunlight and feeling its warmth.

He felt empty inside.

It felt like the world had slapped him back into reality and pushed him back again to the darkness. He was always hiding somewhere underneath whether it was supposed to be his home or his hiding place.

When Captain Brochille had visited him at his room in the afternoon, bringing some food, he caught the boy just staring off the wall idly.

"Not painting anything today?" The soldier asked.

Toren glanced at the pile of canvas sheets and then to the soldier.

"I would like to have some rest for today," Toren replied. "I realized that I have only been constantly painting almost endlessly. I want to stop for a while and think about things."

"Well, it is better to think about things outside. Why are you closing yourself in here? You should go out and see the world for yourself. How can you paint more beautiful things if you could not get ahold of the reality where you get your inspiration from? Human beings tend to overestimate themselves. Soon, your imagination, no matter how rich they are, will eventually drain out if you rely solely on it."

The captain assured him that the other soldiers will not arrest or capture him as long as he's within the captain's turf, he added.

"I guess you are right, captain."

"I am not an artist myself, so I may be wrong. But I know quite well creatures like us. We are weaker than we think we actually are. Who could have discern then that something as big and important as life could be easily robbed away by as little as a blade or bullet?"

Toren pondered about the captain's words.

When he was to go, Toren went out with him and decided to explore a bit outside.

He breathed in the fresh air and basked beneath the lights as if it were years since he had gotten in touch with reality.

He walked through the deep forest to avoid the colonists and enjoy his soundless little journey.

He strode through the deep forest and to the quiet places and towards the memorial parks that were left unvisited because of the war and investigations.

Most of the isles are bathed with tensed silence as if some monster had been waiting patiently to catch its prey. But Toren found a place with a truly peaceful silence.

Somewhere that was not threatened with violence and brutality.

He saw a lone young woman praying for a soul over a tombstone.

She looked over after hearing some rustling sound and saw Toren.

"What are you doing here?" The young woman asked, a bit baffled. "You seem quite young. You must be inside your house right now. I think the inspections will start soon."

"Worry not about me," He assured and lied, "I reside with a colonist soldier for the orphanage I was living in had been taken down. How about you? Are you not also supposed to be in your house right now? The inspections include women's participation, right? Did you perhaps escape and run away?"

The woman blushed a little, a bit flustered. "D-Do not snitch me, alright? I just wanted to pay these deceased people some homage!"

Toren chuckled. "Then do not snitch on me for living with a colonist soldier too, alright? I do not want to cause him trouble."

"Of course."

"Anyway, who were they?"

The woman sadly glimpsed on the tombstones and sighed.

"They are my neighbors. Ruollo was just a little boy when he died from the blade of a brutal colonist soldier. He fought against them because they were severely deprived of rights and privileges. Soon after, his mother came upon the emperor and lashed out against his injustice. As you can predict, she died right then. No one else would visit them for their clans had long cut ties with them, thus their poverty. These people are kind and righteous. They were not greedy and yet, they received something they did not deserve."

Toren understood that kind of pain.

He wanted nothing else but to do his passion peacefully, yet he kept on receiving ordeals.

Maybe if he was a little bit more greedy, he thought, things would turn out differently.

And so, Airen's image flashed through his head.

Something in him had decisively chosen a destiny to tread in; something he never thought would be such a great deal.