Bad Liar

I was having a relatively peaceful climb up the ladder when I got whiff of the smoke.

Curiosity, ever my downfall, got the best of me, and I took a quick peek down below.

Ah. Fire.

No time to think. Move.

I scurried up the ladder as fast as my arms allowed.

The temperature climbing up my legs, playing a very scalding “I Spy” with my pain receptors.

Smoke stung my eyes.

I coughed.

Heat seeped through the rope fiber and into my hands.

The top was close. Tantalizingly so.

I reached for the next rung when...

Flames.

But then, from above, a hand snatched me by the hair and pulled. Hard. Using a force that seemed personally offended by my climbing efforts.

I did not appreciate that.

But given the trade off...

I'll let it slide.

I was unceremoniously dragged over the edge of the wall.

My body landed on—bless the gods—cold and hard concrete.

I rolled onto my back, huffing and puffing.

Blinking at the night sky, my brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that I was not currently on fire. Singed, yes. But not on fire.

Just as I started to get a hold of myself, my ears picked up a shuffling noise close by.

My brow arched. I prepared myself for the first sight of my unlikely rescuer.

Their wiry shape blocked out the green moonlight.

My eyes widened.

No way...

No way...

No way was all I could think.

Because how was it even possible that HE, of all people in the entire Plague Realm, was the one to save me?

Yes, the very same person whose picture I had stared at shamelessly more times than I cared to admit.

Who permanently set up camp in my dreams (and my sketchpad, I won't deny that) was now staring down at me with a smirk that's equal parts infuriating and seductive!

Not only that, but he was even more gorgeous in person, and I felt my eyes shamelessly drinking in the sight like I'd just found a long-lost oasis in the middle of a desert.

“Y-You’re—”

“You’re staring.”

He finished my statement, crouching down in front of me, eyeing me right back.

I felt my cheeks heat up. Damn it.

I quickly propped myself up on my elbows, only to regret it immediately.

I had grossly underestimated just how close we were. And... my forehead slammed right into his.

We both drew back, hands flying up to our foreheads in a simultaneous groan of pain.

“Oww... That actually hurt!”

He flopped onto his back, giving me space to sit up properly.

“You know, I've had friendlier greetings.”

“I was trying to get up, not to greet you.”

“And here I thought you were trying to get a closer look at my handsome face.”

Ah... That explained it.

I knew there was something about his smirk that got under my skin.

I mean, I wasn't exactly holding out for a humble personality, but did he really have to sound so darn satisfied about it?

One thing I could stomach was good-looking people who were totally oblivious to the fact. The type who didn't even try, and still they always stole everyone's attention.

The guy splayed out like a starfish before me was different.

He knew he was gorgeous and would flaunt it every chance he got.

A “look but don't touch” kind of thing.

I had seen similar behavior from the ladies at the brothel across the orphanage.

They'd tease and flirt with men, baiting them into showering them with gifts, all while knowing they'd never give a damn about them.

The men would leave empty-handed swearing up and down that they'd never fall for it again.

But they kept coming back anyway, hoping and dreaming, like delusional fools.

It was irritating.

My interest in him shriveled like a burnt leaf.

I sighed. What a waste of good looks.

“Why,” I asked, “are you lying on the ground like I’m the one who saved you?”

“Because I just took a headbutt from a very pretty girl. Let me recover.”

I squinted, judging him. “Are you just weak or dramatic?”

“Wow. Kicking a man while he’s down.”

“Alright, I'm leaving.” I rose, dusting ash off my pinafore. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Wait!” He sat bolt upright.

“Don't I get the privilege of knowing my heroic rescuee’s name?”

I blinked. Heroic? Did he mean me?

“Well, you know, I was watching you through my binoculars earlier.”

“Binoculars?”

He held them up, continuing: “And I can't say I've ever seen someone move that fast before, let alone someone in a dress. I know I could never, I'd probably pull both my hamstrings.”

“Um... thanks?”

Then, my brain finally caught up to the full scope of his words.

My hands self-consciously flung over my shoulders, fixing him with another judgy stare.

“You were watching me?”

“Watching the moon. You just happened to be in the way.”

“Of course. Because the giant spherical rock in the sky has an obstacle like me in the way of its view. Liar.”

He sighed.

“Fine, I assure you that you weren't my target. If you must know, I was watching something else.”

“And that something was...?”

But then he did something surprising—he smiled. It wasn't confident. More like a “please just let it go” kind of smile.

I... decided not to prod.

Just allow the moment pass.

Like water through your fingers. I told myself.

Rubbing my arm, I looked up at the sky.

What?

The sky was red with stripes of purple blended into pale gold.

Dawn.

I frowned. How long had we been talking for? I sighed, chiding myself for losing track of time.

From up, looking down on all of it, the shape of the Seven Wards of Heptagon City resembled... a heptagon.

They were so perfectly triangular that they reminded me of... what was that thing again?

I swear it was at the tip of my tongue. I mulled it over...

P—A pie! Yes, a pie.

Once, on my birthday, Fia bought one. The crust was perfectly golden brown, and the filling–oh, the filling! So sweet and juicy, spilling out from the corners.

My mouth watered just from the thought.

It was the best pastry in the Plague Realm!

Too bad she only bought it to increase your organ harvesting profits.

And that, was how my own brain ruined a perfectly pleasant memory.

Just like Fia cut each slice, each Ward was like a slice of land cut into a triangular piece, walled off from the next like separate little worlds.

Two sides flanked neighboring wards, the third faced outward, marking the city’s border.

I was standing on that border wall. The very edge of Heptagon City.

Below me, grass. And beyond that; a sea of steamy red-tiled rooftops squashed so tight that if one house caught fire, the whole ward could go up in flames like a tinderbox.

I swallowed. Hard.

Houses were burning.

Smoke zigzagged through the rooftops.

And it was all my fault...

If only I'd been smarter and found another way to escape...

But the reality was that I didn't.

If didn't matter. It was over and done.

Something warm ran down my chin.

“Hey, hey, hey.” A hand snatched my wrist. “What do you think you're doing?”

I blinked.

“Your nails.”

Oh.

My nails were digging into my cheek, pressing deep enough that—

“I did it without thinking.”

“Are you alright?” He wiped my cheek.

I shook him off. “I’m fine. Why do you care anyway?”

“Come to think of it...” I grabbed my chin, not quite directing the question at him.

“Why did you save me?”

“Well, to answer your first question. I have a vested interest in keeping your face unscathed. It’s rather pleasing to look at.”

He smiled.

I let out a long suffering sigh.

“And for my second question?”

“Truthfully...”

He exhaled deeply, almost like he was choosing his next words carefully. Good.

“Seeing you run away like that, it shook me. And to have run as fast and with such reckless abandon...”

He shuddered. “That fear made me want to help.”

The sincerity in his eyes was so raw that I couldn't bring myself to meet them. Instead, I chose to focus on the burning city below.

Wasn't kindness supposed to come with a catch?

Not all the time...

His was a case of 'basic human instinct,' that simple-minded goodness where you help someone in trouble. Still...

Had I looked that genuinely afraid?

I already knew the answer before the thought fully formed. Even now I still was.

Chatting up my enemy's son wasn't exactly my smartest move yet.

Speaking of...

From the corner of my eye, I looked at my rescuer.

He smiled back at me.

Annoying.

But more importantly; did he have any idea who I was?

I, I knew him... in personal ways I plan on taking to my grave, for obvious reasons.

That aside, his family had taken in a donor. Did he know me as that person?

Then there was August...

I sighed. My face darkening at the thought of that bastard who chased me like a mad dog.

Naturally, my eyes shifted to his handiwork; the now-smoldering remains of the ladder below.

I bet he's probably on his way up here now.

I stole a glance at the person who saved me.

Had he seen August?

Would he have recognized him? Unlikely. His younger type don't set foot in Burnwake Ward.

But then, my brain questioned back:

“He's here now, on the wall, to Burnwake Ward nonetheless. What makes you so sure that rule even applied to him?”

Before I could even wrap my head around the implications of that thought, his voice made me jump:

“So, what were you running from?”

A simple question.

And just like that my suspicions lessened.

Lessened. Just because he's asking simple questions doesn't mean he's entirely oblivious.

I suppressed a sigh.

What a pain in the rear this is. Coming up with a believable excuse, that is.

“I was... uh... running from a couple of Plague Inquisitors.”

He blinked—real fast.

“That's... serious.”

Then he frowned, tapping his chin as he looked to the sky. “The only reason for them to chase someone is if they're switching faiths, in which...” he glanced down at me. “I suppose you are...?”

Inside, I cursed myself as I heard the doubt in his voice. He was smarter than he looked.

Technically, I'm not lying. The Plague Inquisitors did have a habit of sniffing out religious rebels and potential converts.

Somewhere in Burnwake Ward, Fia and Alfred were probably giving a description to a sketch artist, wringing their hands, practically begging the Inquisitors to find me.

I wouldn't put it past them to spin some sobbing tale about how their beloved Yori, decided to change faiths so suddenly and ran away from home. It's perfect, after all.

Whether they seek the help of the Plague Inquisitors or not doesn't even matter.

The point was that I ran, and that's all they need to go after me.

I took a long and drawn out breath, then, in my most confident voice, I replied:

“Yes, that's right. I'm changing faiths.”

Come on, buy it. Buy it...

“I had my suspicions when I saw you heading towards the wall. You know, switching faiths in Heptagon City is a serious offense.”

Calling it a serious offense was putting it lightly. The Plague Gods were not just serious about faith; they were downright jealous.

Six of them ruled over Heptagon City, six divine overlords watching over their six Wards.

You could call it a 'pantheon' but that's just a farce. It's more like a six-way tug of war.

Each of the Plague Gods saw the other five as bitter rivals. So loyalty to a single Plague God was paramount.

For those like myself, if you were born into a Ward, you're stuck with its ruling god for life.

It was all or nothing. To belong to one was to only belong to one.

And if, god forbid, you caught even the mildest of colds from another Ward...

I hugged my elbows as a shiver racked my body.

“Don't remind me...”

My first week after being adopted, Alfred took me to the square.

He had some business to take care of, so he left me by the stalls, dumped a handful of Chronic Coins in my hands and told me to keep myself entertained.

So I did.

I strolled around, poking Plaguebeast tentacles until a gorgeous dress on display at a booth made me halt and gasp.

The old lady selling it probably saw the stars in my eyes, that must be why she called out to me:

“You have an eye for fine fabric, young miss. That dress would look lovely on you. Try it on, won't you?”

I... hesitated, spending Alfred's coins on something so frivolous didn't sit right with me.

But the dress... it was calling out to me.

I was about to agree to the old lady’s request, but my ears were rudely attacked by a high-pitched scream.

Being the nosey girl I am, I walked over to the direction of the noise.

There was a large crowd gathered, all staring at the center.

“He's been a Local Convert his whole life? That's ridiculous! He was bound to get caught eventually. What was he even thinking?”

“Thinking he could get away. It serves him right.”

I weaseled my way between the two gossiping women to get a better look.

In that center, I saw a naked man, chained to a tall metal pole.

That definitely wasn't an everyday sight.

His face was an ugly mess, riddled with bruises and swelling.

But there was something about his profile that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Injuries aside, I could see he had a clear rugged handsomeness.

But that wasn't it.

He looked almost... familiar.

I remember having to think quickly and search through my memories, if I had ever seen him before.

But the moment was lost when an Inquisitor walked up to the man, rolling up her sleeves.

A priest by her side murmured prayers as he pulled out a knife.

My eyes swished between the two, I couldn't look away.

The priest slashed the blade across the inquisitor's forearm.

At the very least, I'd expected a wince of pain but the Inquisitor looked absolutely un-bothered.

Her blood welled up. Like golden lava from a volcano it flowed down her elbow.

Then, a burly guard grabbed the chained man's hair and yanked his head back.

That's when it clicked for me and apparently the man.

He struggled against the chains, his head bucking back and forth. When that didn't work.

He bit down on his bottom lip so hard that streams of blood flowed down his chin.

The guard wasn't in the mood and he made that clear with three heavy punches to his chin.

The man's head lolled back, his lower jaw went slack and his lips parted...

I watched as the priest guided the Inquisitor’s bleeding arm over the man’s mouth.

The second it touched his tongue, he screamed. The sound turned into a gurgle as more of her molten blood flowed in, searing his throat on the way down.

Eugh! I'd winced at the scene, my own throat felt parched from just watching.

Religious transgressions, schmeligious transgressions. It was a sick way to punish someone for anything at all!

That man had no choice.

He tried his very best to close his mouth, but his busted jaw was just not having it.

Then he began trying everything he could to escape the pain; thrash about, curl his toes, suck his gut in.

Truly it was a sight to behold, just not in a good way.

And believe you me, they weren't even finished.

Another Inquisitor—this time, a man—walked into the fray. He pressed his scorching, white-hot hands on the man's chest and his palms just slid right in, like coal dropped in snow.

That's when that god-awful stench of burnt flesh hit my nostrils. I'd pinched my nose shut retching in disgust.

When the torture was finally over, the man was nothing more than a steaming heap, branded in charred palm-prints.

Watching the whole thing had made me barf, and it took me a while to compose myself before Alfred returned.

The square was empty save for us now, he patted my head and said, “Hope you didn’t waste those coins.”

I didn’t.

I had bought ointment and a jug of water. And as we passed, I left them beside the chained man’s feet.

Thinking back, what I did was kind of silly. I doubt it did him any good, really.

I did it more to ease my own conscience for just watching as he was tortured without lifting a finger to help.

I must’ve been standing there with a sad face, because my rescuer placed both his hands on my shoulders.

“I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. I'm just... worried. It's a dangerous game you're playing and...”

He smirked. Then laughed a little.

“Well, I have to confess, I'm a little impressed that you're willing to play it. Most people wouldn't dare even consider switching faiths. They're too scared of the repercussions, but you... I like you.”

My eyebrows shot up.

Then I quickly shook my head, dispelling his enchantment. Why did he have to be so charming?

“I'm not doing anything impressive.” I brushed off his hands.

“I'm just desperate. Desperate to get away from you and your empty words.”

You are the son of Alfred and Fia, after all.

Turning on my heel, I moved to leave—

Except my foot snagged on something.

Curse these damn, stupid slip-ons of mine!

I took a face-first nosedive right into the ground, waiting to hear the crack of my nose hitting the concrete, but instead...

Warmth.

An arm decided to make friends with my waist, hauling me up like a rag doll.

Chest.

Heartbeat...

It took me way, and I mean way too long to realize that I was holding my rescuer's shirt like a leech.

My inner clown did a happy dance.

Then my brain woke up and I reacted the only way any self-respecting girl would...

I shoved myself away so fast I left my soul behind.

We were a good arm's length apart now.

I busied myself with smoothening out my clothes, avoiding his eyes like they were contagious.

Mumbling a quick “Thanks” under my breath, I swore to myself that this entire fiasco would be locked away in the dusty, cobweb-filled corners of my memory, never to see the light of day again.

Whatever I tripped on—

Wait.

...Tracks?

I blinked. Metal rails spread along the ground either side of me.

My eyes followed the tracks on the left, squinting through the morning haze until—Ah-ha!

I finally saw what I was searching for; the shadowy shape of a supply station.

I did a one-eighty-degree turn and sprinted.

Sprinting to the other side of the wall.

Behind me, my rescuer yelled words, but I hardly even heard him.

All that mattered was the task at hand.

My fingers found the edge of the stone, and without a second thought, I leaned over, staring down at...

Dust, dust, and more bloody dust.

“Tch. Should’ve taken those stupid binoculars.”

On cue, the very pair dangled in my vision.

“Perfect timing.”

I snatched them and pressed them into my eyes. All the while, sensing the presence of the person who provided them, standing, patiently waiting...

I sighed.

“You're rescuing me a bit too often for my liking. But, it does show that you're reliable. So... Thank you. Again.”

“Amazing. How you just move at your own whims. You're welcome.”

I ignored him.

My complete focus on Octagon City—or more accurately, a Ward of it—as it gradually revealed itself from behind the sandstorm.

All I could see was brown.

Not just the buildings and the roads, but the people too; different shades of beige.

The rooftops were flat. Well, mostly. “Those bowl-shaped roofs could easily trap me if I were chased.” I mumbled to no one in particular.

“If the need ever arises, the high spires would be useful for spotting things. That's good. But I don't see much wells. Damn it, I'll have to hoard rainwater. Maybe set up jars on the roof.”

“You're not just sightseeing, are you?”

“No, of course not.” I replied absentmindedly.

“Huh. Seems like transportation around here is a bit... Weird.”

Ropes and vines elongated between rooftops, and people tempted fate, swinging from them.

I dropped the binoculars from my face with a sigh.

“I'm not thrilled about it but I expect it'll be a necessary evil to learn how to use, if I want to get around.”

“Unless... you have the funds for a mount.”

“Mounts?” Interest piqued, I eagerly raised the binoculars, searching for the afro-mentioned steeds.

“Ah, there they are!”

They were Plaguebeasts with slimy, curved horns and a row of wart-like humps that were in constant motion along their spines making their riders bob up and down in their saddles.

“What in the heck are they?”

“Plaguebeasts.”

I let out a sigh and dropped the binoculars again, side-eyeing my rescuer.

“I'll just assume you're clueless, and that's the only reason why you didn't say anything useful.”

He smiled and shook his head several times.

“That would be a safe assumption, yes.”

Hmm. I squinted, watching him lean on the stone, both palms propping up his face. His eyes trained on the Ward below.

“How are you able to—”

“Don't worry, I've seen the Ward a hundred times already.”

Ah, right. That made sense. So he came up here a lot...

But why? To watch something... Something tied to his parents?

I opened my mouth to query but promptly bit my tongue.

Better not. I don't want to come off as suspicious or nosy.

Peering down, from the vibrance of the turbans and fancy robes worn by the riders I figured my shining knight was right; the creatures must be a high-end form of transport.

“Then I have to save up enough to buy one.”

They'll get me where I need to go. And most importantly, I won't look like a fool swinging from vine to vine.

I watched as the mounts trotted up to market stalls where the merchants lounged in—I squinted—Really? Hammocks?

I frowned and lowered the binoculars. Now very aware of the fact that not a single soul in the entire Ward had their feet on the ground.

There's only one reason why that could be: Blight.

Odd behaviors like these were commonplace in most Wards.

In Burnwake, people fell into two categories: The Nudists and the Clothed.

When you have the Burnwake Blight, you tend to value practicality over fancy clothing. If it could catch fire easily, we'd steer clear of it.

Inflammable clothing was expensive. So the less fortunate were forced to bear it all, quite literally.

But they weren't entirely alone in their... quirks.

The public baths in the clothed community were often overcrowded, so some clothed ones found a workaround, opting to lounge on the roads, fountains, and riverbanks like their naked counterparts.

However, the privilege of enjoying benefits from the other side didn't extend both ways.

An overcrowded bath wasn't the only problem among the clothed.

Alas the fashion dilemma of Burnwear always took center stage.

Most folks of the clothed community had just one set of clothes. One outfit from birth to death.

You'd see folks waddling around in clothes that were either too tight or too loose, looking like they were playing dress-up in their kid's or grandparent's wardrobe.

Only the wealthy could afford to change outfits whenever they wanted.

Everyone else had to make do with what they had. Hand-me-downs were expected.

When we were young, being naked wasn't a big deal for us. We didn't pay it much mind.

Then puberty hit.

The other girls got attention because of their larger chests and more shapely bodies.

But I, on the other hand, didn't have much to show in those areas, so I didn't get ogled at as much.

I was lucky in that sense, I guess. Plus, being Haleborn had its perks. In theory only. Because in practice, it didn't really make a difference.

During the times when I didn't have the Burnwake Blight, I could wear normal clothes, which would've been a relief if finding normal clothes weren't tricky.

After a certain point, production of regular clothing ceased, and Burnwear became the only type of clothing available.

So even when I wasn't sick, it was impossible to find me regular clothes that weren't inflammable.

It was kind of funny then how the orphanage director, Meryl, was so concerned about me.

She scrimped and saved enough money to buy me a hand-me-down at twelve. Even though the other girls got theirs once they turned thirteen.

Meryl was a strong believer in equality, but she wasn't a fool, so the boys had to wait until they were eighteen.

I raised the binoculars.

Down there, their Blight gave them the luxury of regular clothing.

There were no smog-choked streets.

I wouldn't have to wonder if the bodies lying limp on the ground were corpses or not.

And most important of all... No one knew who I was.

If I could blend in and change my name, no one would come after me. I won't have to worry about my own organs being stolen.

I'd be safe... as long as no one found out I was a Haleborn.

I lowered the binoculars, swivelling to look back at the supply station.

My eyes lingered for a beat, then my hand went up to my chin.

“The supply station should have a coiled rope ladder stashed away somewhere. If I can—”

I was stopped mid-sentence by the sound of a laugh.

I don’t mean a little giggle. No, this was a full-on, loud and unapologetic guffaw.

Laughter that made your palm itch.

My head snapped to the person making it.

“What could possibly be so funny from what I just said?”

The man's laughter died down as he wiped at his eye.

“Please don't be mad.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“It's just that...” Looking away, he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“The ladder I threw down, the one that is currently a crispy mess... well, it happens to be the same one from the supply station.”

I blinked.

Again.

Then my brain caught up.

I released a small breath. My composure calm.

“I understand. Then I suppose there's no harm in checking the supply station for another ladder, I'll be on my way.”

I pushed the binoculars into his chest and walked past him. “Thank you for all your help.”

A hand caught my wrist.

I stopped.

“Liar.”

I waited for him to say something.

“You're not letting go, I see.”

“That’s a big accusation you've made there.”

“Yeah. You’re a bad liar.”

“You’re really set on leaving...”

“Your voice is light, but your grip sure isn't.”

“You know, you could stay. Become a Local Convert.”

“You know, switching faiths in Heptagon City is a serious offense.”

A sigh.

“Foreign converts don’t have it easy either. They’ll treat you like crap. Stay.”

“I don't think that's an option.”

“What if I made it an option. What would you say then?”

“Oh, for—”

My patience snapped. I pulled my hand free.

Rubbing my wrist, I scowled.

“You barely even know me. How could you possibly decide what's best for me? You don't know anything about my life, or what I need.”

"You're right, I don't know all the details of your life, but I do know this..."

He stepped closer. I stepped back.

“You're a runaway. You're trying to change faiths without causing suspicion. Am I correct?”

“Dont patronize me. What makes you think you could change my faith without causing suspicion?”

Before he could reply, my eyes flicked away.

“Guards.”

“Wha?” He did a one-eighty.

I swallowed. My heart pounding.

Could they see us from all the way there?

We hid behind a stone.

I felt my savior breathing down my neck. But that was the least of my worries.

“Seems like the guards have started morning patrols.” I whispered softly. “No way I can escape with a ladder now...”

“Sorr—”

“No need to apologize. Just tell me your plan.”

And then, as an afterthought, I remembered a certain argument.

“Oh, right. And your name too.”

A/N: Thank you for reading this far. 😭 💚