“Hey brat, what’s your name?” the village elder asked, his voice steady, almost testing. His sharp eyes fixed on me.

  I froze, caught off guard. Steve had just introduced me moments ago, yet here I was being forced to say it myself. My gaze flicked toward Steve, hoping for a lifeline, but he only stood silently beside me, arms folded, expression unreadable.

  Swallowing, I turned back to the elder. “Taseen,” I said finally, my voice firmer than I felt.

  The elder’s face betrayed no reaction. His eyes cold, piercing, far older than his body, studied me with the kind of weight that made my skin crawl. Then, without shifting his stance, he asked:

  “What’s your purpose?”

  The words cut deeper than they should have. My purpose? For a moment, I had no answer. I had never been forced to voice it, not out loud. All I had carried with me was the fire, the need for revenge, the gnawing void my parents’ deaths had left behind. How to achieve it, I had never truly known. All I had was conviction, and conviction had carried me this far.

  Memories flickered like broken film reels; the lies, the whispers, the hollow truths the government fed its people. Years of digging, searching, chasing fragments in the shadows, trying to make sense of a world built on illusions.

  Finally, I straightened, my voice steadier this time.

  “My purpose,” I said, “is to kill the government’s lies, and build a world of truths.”

  I didn’t stop with that answer. I pressed on, almost without thinking.

  “And what about you?” I asked. “What’s your name, and your purpose?”

  The elder’s expression didn’t shift. His body remained perfectly still, his presence heavy as stone. Yet for the first time, a sliver of something crossed his face. A faint smirk, so thin it could’ve been imagined.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he countered with a question of his own, his voice low and piercing:

  “The child who doesn’t even have a clue about what is going on, can you truly bear the weight of the world’s lies?”

  His words cut through me. My chest tightened. He was right, I didn’t know. I had no grasp of the government’s true intentions, no understanding of why they chased after that phantom, The Land of the Truth. I was fumbling in the dark, and he knew it.

  Still, something inside me resisted. My throat tightened, but the words forced their way out.

  “I already lost my family to the evils of this world,” I said, voice raw. “I don’t know what else could break me.”

  The elder’s gaze softened, if only for a heartbeat. Behind his sharp eyes flickered a trace of pity.

  “Your parents’ purpose was to give birth to a child,” Steve said slowly. “A child who doesn't drown himself in the past. Who always looks ahead, toward the future that will take shape by their own hands.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Steve looked at the elder.

  “You should return home. I’ll show him more of the land,” he said.

  The elder turned his sharp gaze toward me, then simply nodded. Without another word, he made his way out to the main road. Wait, wasn’t this his house? Why was he leaving?

  “Let’s move,” Steve said, sliding the gun from my pocket and falling into a steady pace. I followed, my mind uneasy.

  “Say, Taseen,” he began, tinkering with the gun as we walked.

  “Why didn’t you feel endangered when you woke up in an unknown place with a stranger?”

  Good question. Why hadn’t I panicked? Was Steve that trustworthy? Or had my instincts misfired?

  “First, tell me how were you able to kidnap me amidst all the commotion?” I asked, keeping my eyes on him as we moved through a small market. Tiny stalls lined the dirt-path, and curious villagers gave me questioning looks.

  “You know you have to be cautious with everything, right?” Steve said, tossing a small square object toward me.

  I caught it without thinking. “What’s this?”

  “A GPS tracker. It was hidden in the gun.” He stopped and looked back at me, eyes sharp.

  “Your stupidity could have cost you your life,” he said flatly. “Always check everything thoroughly. You lack situational awareness. You tend to focus only on what your subconscious deems important.”

  His words hit me like knives. I froze. “It can’t be…”

  "So... So that's how the Capital Guards got to me? That's why I was able to escape the facility easily? Because they could track me and kill me in my sleep?"

  Steve studied me with that unreadable calm of his.

  “Even now,” he said, “you seem too comfortable here. No tension. No worry. No instinct to survive, the one thing that could actually keep you alive.”

  We stood on the dirt road, the market is a cluster of distant stalls shrinking behind us. Ahead stretched a vast field, golden-green under the soft sun. Shepherds moved slowly with their flocks of sheep and goats scattering in loose waves across the grass.

  At the heart of it all stood a massive banyan tree, its sprawling roots and branches commanding the land like an ancient guardian. Some were taking rest under it while the animals roamed freely.

  Steve sighed, shaking his head.

  “Even now, you’re just looking at the surroundings. Not reading them. Not questioning them. You don’t even notice that while I’m talking, your attention keeps wandering.”

  “You see that guy behind the bush? He’ll shoot you in the head.”

  Steve’s tone was casual, almost bored, but his eyes and chin pointed past me.

  My heart jolted. I spun around,

  And there he was. A man crouched low, half-hidden behind the tall grass and bush, a gun leveled straight at me.

  “In three… two… one…” Steve’s voice rang out, deliberate and slow.

  I froze. My body refused to move. Steve set me up? Was this how it ended?

  The gunman’s finger tightened,

  Click!

  A sharp sting kissed my forehead, like a bee striking skin. My heart stopped. A trickle of blood ran into my right eye.

  Behind me, Steve burst into laughter.

  “You’re dead,” he said flatly, amusement dripping from his tone.