Chapter 76
2. Fate
Pallici Island, southwestern Republic of Lovent.
Half a day’s journey from the mainland by steamship, the island drifted to the rhythm of a different age. Even as the rest of the world disappeared beneath coal smoke and the ceaseless clamor of machinery, Pallici continued at its own unhurried pace.
Fishing boats came and went peacefully through the harbor. Every morning, the salty stench of fresh catch lingered in the air. By afternoon, the narrow streets filled with people who had never found a reason to hurry.
With few tourists visiting that time of year, only the island’s lifelong residents remained. And yet, among those familiar faces, there was one outsider who blended in as though she had always belonged.
A shabby inn overlooking the edge of the harbor. A small room tucked away in the corner of the second floor.
Evelia lay flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The old plaster overhead had crumbled away in patches. There was, of course, nothing there. Even so, her green eyes swept across it on instinct.
It was an old habit. Whenever she entered an enclosed space, she looked to the ceiling first, then searched for a way out. It was simply how she’d learned to survive.
From the kitchen downstairs came the faint clatter of pots and pans.
Outside, two fishermen had started drinking before noon, shouting at each other in a thick local dialect that blurred into meaningless noise. Beneath the window, a stray cat rummaged through an overturned rubbish bin.
Evelia caught every sound. Instinctively, she sorted through each one, piecing together the scene outside.
‘All clear.’
Closing her eyes, she finally let the tension leave her body. Her dark brown dyed hair spread across the dingy pillowcase, shifting faintly as she settled back.
The dye had begun to fade from the roots, revealing its true color little by little, but she had no intention of touching it up just yet.
There was no one on Pallici Island who knew her face. The forged identification she’d bought belonged to a brown-haired woman. And more importantly, the odds of that damned Union police officer, who spent his days lurking quietly on the island, tracking her all the way here were slim.
Slim but not impossible.
“Fxck my life…”
Muttering the curse beneath her breath, Evelia draped the back of her hand over her eyes. The hard line of her knuckles rested lightly against her eyelids.
Even in darkness, certain images refused to fade. Like the composite sketch printed across her wanted poster.
[Evelia Lockwood. Mercenary specializing in long-range assassination. Suspected in numerous unsolved killings.
Last confirmed sighting: Northern Front, Duchy of Karentz.]
It was almost laughable. If her last confirmed sighting had truly been the northern front of Karentz, then at this very moment she was already several thousand yards south of it.
In any case, Evelia was now the subject of a Black-Level Warrant after assassinating commanding officers and military leaders from several nations.
A Black-Level Warrant was the highest classification issued by the International Union Police. Every member state was obligated to report her whereabouts immediately. Should she resist arrest, lethal force took priority over capture.
Then again, back then her hair had been cropped into a much shorter blond cut, and her face had been caked with dried blood. She wasn’t even sure how much that sketch resembled the woman she was now.
Lowering her hand, Evelia looked back at the ceiling.
She had first rented this room six months ago. Originally, she’d planned to stay for only a week. Just long enough to kill time until her next contract arrived.
Except no contract ever came.
Ever since the Black-Level Warrant had been issued, no one was willing to hire her anymore. Even if Evelia Lockwood had become the last sniper left in the entire world, no one could afford to employ her.
Naturally. The moment it became known that someone had hired Evelia Lockwood, the client would be implicated as well.
Thanks to the money she’d stubbornly squirreled away in an anonymous account in Lovent, Evelia wasn’t in danger of starving anytime soon. But it wasn’t nearly enough to secure her future.
If she kept her head down long enough, eventually someone would come looking for Evelia Lockwood again. The problem was who knew when that would be?
So, to stretch her savings, Evelia struck a bargain with the innkeeper. In exchange for reduced rent, she took care of whatever odd jobs needed doing.
Sometimes that meant running errands halfway across the island. Other days she scrubbed the dining room after closing. If she helped clean and gut fish at the harbor market, she’d earn herself a meal as well. It was nothing more than a bowl of fish porridge cooked from the day’s unsold catch and shared among the dockworkers, but it was enough.
The thought that Evelia Lockwood now spent her days gutting fish instead of people was almost amusing. Oddly enough, she didn’t find it humiliating. It was better than becoming a beggar and going hungry.
She hated hunger.
Discussion
0 CommentsNo comments yet.