It had been a lifetime since he could remember what the light looked like. Though in reality, it was merely six years that had passed by since he could no longer see. Not that it really mattered to him; all he knew was that his time was coming, and he wasn't really wrong to say it was a lifetime already.
He could hear the people whispering, some shouting, some were crying...all sorts of noises. The overwhelming sounds assaulted his hearing. Being blind made his ears more receptive to sounds, as if compensating for his lack of sight.
He could hear almost all sounds near him. And from the current noise, the most common thing he heard was their condemnation against him and his family. Accusations for something he truly didn't understand were being leveled at them.
His family was loving. They could never hurt a fly with how kind they were. For someone in the gentry, they were odd ones among their circle for caring for their people and land as if it was a huge family to protect and cherish.
For generations, as rulers of the land, they did their best to shelter their people. Though he could admit they fell short at some points, compared to other lords, they looked virtuous. Their sons strategically took important posts in protection, economy, and politics among the gentry. Daughters married out to strengthen ties out of their own vision of what was best for their people.
It was how it had been and has always been. It was no different for his generation. As an heir, he embodied and lived by the principle of caring for their land and people as his ancestors had done. Single-handedly, he raised their land's livelihood and living standards with his family's motto in mind.
His family said that he was the most promising person among their land after hundreds of years. And that he was the pride of their family for doing his best for everyone. For all he did, they wished him to be less hard on himself, as they knew his achievements were not without hardship.
Then, all of a sudden, everyone turned their backs on them. All because he, the heir of the family, had fallen for that selfish bastard who used them as a stepping stone to kickstart his career. For a single ambition, everything had crumbled for him and his family.
"Wilson Thymes, any last words before we continue your execution?" He could hear the bastard's voice ringing in the open space.
Grunting in pain as a pair of strong hands pulled him to a platform, he made sure to accurately locate the source of that bastard's voice. With a remorseless and devoid of any emotion tone, he uttered his final words with great effort.
"...you got what you want this time...." Heaving between his breaths, he cursed inwardly that the bastard was damnable for making sure he died even without the blade hanging at his neck. "...but remember you're useless without me. What you did to us is unforgivable...it's my family who falls this time...later it will be another... I guess I just want everyone to be aware that anyone can be the next me..."
He laughed at the irony of everything and stopped as he could feel something being thrown at him. From the smell, it was something rotten. He was not really sure; it had been six years since he lost his sight. To make sure that the bastard could be saved from being poisoned by his rivals, he had drunk a spiked wine. Since then, he never saw the world again and could only rely on servants to guide him wherever he went or to do something.
He could still remember his younger brothers' cries and subsequent pounding at the nearest object as they heard him losing his sight. His sisters' tentative and trembling embraces. And his parents' tears trailing on his skin when he told them he could not see them.
Life had turned quite challenging since that fateful day. He continued being the heir for a year to give time for his younger brother to slowly transition to the role. The younger boy was merely sixteen back then while he was twenty. It was a tough time; however, the boy managed to keep things floating until he got his own insights and approach to his new identity.
At twenty-one, he was mostly an advisor and had lived leisurely as a deposed heir. Living as such was not bad. His family cared for him and made sure he was not slighted and ensured his comfort and well-being.
Maybe it was then that the bastard had started to attack their family. Everyone in the family favored him greatly and was aware of him being enamored with the other man. His affection for the man was a source of conflict when he was still the legal heir, but they had learned to let it be when his brother took over. They never trusted the man, but for him, they let him in.
They didn't guard against him and allowed him to come and go as he pleased to visit the blind him, unknowingly letting the "white-eyed wolf" slowly wreak havoc on their family.
Only when the people suddenly surrounded them and the soldiers came to ransack their home did they know how bad things were. His old parents died while waiting for trial for makeshift crimes, his brothers were beaten like beasts...and his sisters...his poor sisters were humiliated like they were nothing but objects to be tossed after use.
Still, they held on. Not because they were hopeful that things would be better, but they were scared of what would happen to him who was helpless without anyone to help him around. They kept telling him that no matter what happens, as long as they are together, they can overcome anything.
He held on to their words. His servants were loyal to him and had been doing their best to give them justice and get them out. They visited them as much as they could, updated them of what was happening outside, and let them know what they had achieved so far.
Just before the execution date, they bore news of a patron rushing over to them to give them justice. It would take time, as the patron was from far away, from the capital itself, who would take the matters into their own hands. They begged them to hold on, saying they'd try to delay the trial as much as they could.
He held on to that. His siblings held on for this help. But the bastard was clearly in a hurry. A week before the expected trial date, they were brought outside of the detention and were paraded for all to see. And after three laps around the town, they were brought to a platform.
There, the bastard declared their crimes like it was something they had personally committed. He could only helplessly keep his ears open as his siblings spurred the bastard with their final words before they would never speak again. He could feel tears running on his cheek as his youngest sibling didn't curse at the real criminal. His final words were concisely provocative for the masses to question and ponder the truth, morality, and acceptance of humanity's fecklessness. He briefly prayed to absolve his family's resentment for something he was not at fault for, especially for his eldest brother who trusted someone wrongly. And if there was a chance, he would like to be with his family again in another life and be more selfish to at least live worthy of the crimes placed upon them.
He truly wanted to resent. But he respected his brother's wishes. Among them, he was closest to the Buddha and lived akin to a monk. So he let go of his resentment as the blade slid through his neck.
In a brief moment, he could hear gallops of horses. As his consciousness dimmed, he could hear a familiar voice of a friend from afar. A careful touch at his unseeing eyes as the person cried for his loss. Whispers of apology for being late and allowing the tragedy to simmer and become like this. Of how he should have stepped up earlier and told him he loved him. That there was no need to be hanged by the manipulator.
He wanted to speak. To tell the man it was not his fault. That perhaps it was fate for all involved. His death is insignificant against the grand scheme of things. And that for everything, it should be him who should be sorry for all his efforts being thwarted because of his family's fall. Of the fact that he was too blind in all senses to actually respond to his affection too late.
But he was going weaker and weaker as the seconds passed. He might not feel the actual pain of having a gaping wound on his neck, but he is aware of the blood slowly draining away from his body. He has no strength to muster. Helplessly, he could only pray, to the Buddha his brother believed in and all of the divine for mercy for the poor man who traveled so far for him.
—If there is another life... given a chance.... I'd like to be with my family again. I'll have my eyes open at that time to see who is true and who is not. And at that time... I'll be a real villain to protect them if needed to be.—