I took what was inside the chest and packed them into my bag.
There was a flicker of fear in my chest when I touched the pistol.
One bullet for every wrong path…
And every wrong path holds a beast.
I closed my grandfather's door with a sigh my left eye shedding a tear, my right one smiling.
I polished my emotions like a blade, then walked into the kitchen.
I fried tomatoes and onions in oil. The knife slid gently through the fish. I boiled a small pot of rice. That's how I prepared a meal for two.
I placed my grandfather's portion by the window, his offering, then began to eat, eyes fixed on the horizon.
The window was fogged from the warmth of the food.
In its reflection, I saw my face, one blue eye, one green. Even in them, I could feel it the pull of a true adventure.
My hair was white as snow perhaps that's why Grandfather used to say I had mountains in my blood: tall, steep, snow-capped…
Where you could touch the branches of ancient trees and see straight through waters as clear as truth.
And me?
Just a 17-year-old kid who believed he could reach such places.
But I was sure of it.
The sky had turned black.
Stars had appeared… perhaps far too close to Earth.
That's how I woke the next morning with the urgency of collecting what else I needed.
I arrived at the city center, where a fountain stood, sculpted as if it were meant to honor a god. But I doubt gods would command men.
True kindness is given freely, not ordered.
"Catch him! Quickly, surround him!" shouted one of the soldiers. It seemed a man had stolen something.
"Let me go! My kids are starving!" the man screamed.
"You shouldn't have touched what wasn't yours. Don't move, or we'll shoot!"
You could hear the anger in the soldier's voice.
"This society gave me nothing… My family's dying of hunger! And what should I do? Work for this damned system?"
A truth I couldn't deny…
"Daddy! Daddy!" a child cried out, rushing toward his father without a trace of fear, as his mother collapsed to the ground.
And then, time slowed.
I saw it clearly, the innocent eyes of the child,
crying for his father, and the eyes of a father ready to shield his son.
Then…they fired.
They shot him.
Ripped him out of life.
Worms in uniform, thinking they could write the law just because they carried guns and wore silver-threaded coats.
The woman ran to what was left of her family, now gone.
"Why? Why?!" she screamed louder and louder.
An officer approached and grabbed her by the arms.
"We're sorry… but you must answer for what you've done."
The poor woman couldn't even speak. She looked down, as if something inside her had already died.
"I wonder… were my parents like that too?" The thought cracked something inside me. But I couldn't look away.
"Hey, isn't that the son of Mr. Tacmir? The one who went north and found nothing?"
He had seen me.
He knew who I was.
"Oh, it's that kid… Achim Tacmir. The one who's lost even his fate. His parents were killed, and his grandfather… found dead in his home, while the boy was off with the fishermen…"
I had carried that guilt for a long time.
But I never asked for pity.
So I walked away…, just so I wouldn't have to see those black uniforms again, stitched with silver threads.
"Poor boy… I wonder what kind of fate awaits him. Even the Sea has no mercy."
I slipped through the crowd.
They had all come to see what had happened.
And the filthy soldiers?
They told them they had captured "a family of criminals."
They threw their deaths onto others.
I ran from the world and, finally, arrived where I was meant to be all along.
With the last of my gold coins, I bought a knife.
Who knows… it might come in handy.
Along the road, I found a street kid.
I gave him something to eat.
I didn't know then… that this boy would one day become the key to my plan.
When I returned home,
I found a suit.
Elegant.
Tailored as if it had been made for what was to come.
A suit that made me invisible among the upper class.
And so…
Only one day remained.