"The reason I couldn't speak about the dream was because in that night's vision, I saw the former Commander... or rather, his hand."
The subject was the same person, yet simultaneously, it was not the same person.
Hence, Yuder's reference wavered momentarily, unable to find a clear foothold. He faintly realized the strangeness of it all, yet he had no choice. How could one precisely refer to someone who was the same yet not the same?
Before Kishiar's silent presence, Yuder realized that he must have already guessed the answer to the unspoken confession.
"...As expected, you had already anticipated this."
"That morning, as soon as you woke up and saw me while still half-asleep, you retreated away from me. Afterwards, you asked whether I felt anything while sleeping or had any strange dreams."
His calm voice flowed as if he had been prepared to give this answer from the start.
"So, naturally, I had to think the dream's content was related to me. I'm still uncertain why you specifically mentioned the hand, though."
Unintentionally, Yuder's gaze drifted towards Kishiar's hand, which was now bare, devoid even of the magic tool ring he usually wore. The hand he had grown so familiar with over time seemed strangely unfamiliar at this moment of dream confession.
The smooth back of his hand.
The protruding bones and blue tendons.
The fingertips imbued with the hue of ripe fruit and the almond-shaped nails.
All these were features Yuder had never seen in his previous life.
In his previous life, Kishiar had worn white gloves until his death, probably hiding the same gruesome scars that Yuder now concealed. What would that hand, bearing scars like those left by the Red Stone, have looked like?
It was now an impossible question to answer, too difficult even to imagine.
Yuder inhaled sharply and began to speak.
"It was exactly as I said. In the dream, only a hand appeared."
"Just a hand without the body?"
"Yes."
"Truly a nightmare, then. But that means the hand could have belonged to someone else, right?"
Instead of answering, Yuder looked at the man's face. His own gloomy reflection in those red eyes appeared like a corpse just emerged from a coffin, the face of a long-dead convict.
Yuder stared at that face and slowly, very slowly, began to speak. His voice, devoid of emotion, came out dry and brittle.
"That person always wore similar gloves. White leather gloves, almost identical in material to the ones I wear. And in the dream, the hand was wearing that glove."
The cold leather gloves, a sensation Yuder could never forget, always pressing down on his neck or shoulders. Despite his efforts to forget and his belief that he had, the touch was instantly recognizable, even in dreams.
Yuder continued, recalling the cool touch that had caressed him in the dream.
"Even if nothing else had appeared in the dream... I would have known whose hand it was."
Indeed, if the dream had shown someone else's hand, it wouldn't have felt like such a profound nightmare. It wouldn't have mattered whether they were the hands of those he had killed or the hands of Emperor Katchian. Even if those hands had appeared wielding a sword, he was certain he wouldn't have been frightened
.But it was unmistakably Kishiar's hand.
It was a hand that, no matter how much Yuder wished to mistake it for another, he simply could not.
The man, who had been scrutinizing Yuder's face, asked in a slightly lowered voice, yet with a hint of gentleness, "Did the hand merely exist there? Or was there contact?"
"It initiated contact," Yuder revealed, describing the encounter with the hand clad in white glove in the dream. He chose his words with extreme care, worried that the part about the hand caressing his face might sound peculiar.
But no matter how he explained it, the fact remained that the skin was touched. Therefore, it seemed best to hope that Kishiar, the listener, would perceive his words as objectively and devoid of emotion as possible.
"And then I..."
Articulating what followed was the most challenging part of all. After a long silence, Yuder finally mustered the courage to speak of the dream's enigmatic conclusion.
"...The moment I recognized whose hand it was, it responded to me."
"A response from just a hand?"
"It wrote the word 'correct' on my skin with its fingers. Then it grabbed my neck and pushed me down into the darkness... and when I opened my eyes, it was morning. That was the end."
After speaking, the dream seemed trivial. It was unbelievable that such a seemingly insignificant tale had taken so long to tell.
Yuder stood silently, waiting for Kishiar's response.
The rising sun behind the man cast a long shadow over Yuder, enveloping him in darkness. The backlighting hid Kishiar's expression from view.
A moment later, the man slowly raised his hand. Initially, it seemed as if he was examining his own hand, but that wasn't the case. He extended his hand forward and brushed Yuder's forehead. The fingertips, bearing a cool dampness, revealed the sweat on Yuder's forehead.
Only then did Yuder realize that his forehead was sweaty.
"A truly perplexing dream. Thank you for sharing it," Kishiar said, his lips moving in the dense backlight, his steady voice the only clear indication of his presence.
"But as of now, I have no significant guesses regarding that dream. Regrettably, it's beyond my understanding."
"..."
"May I ask you something, though?"
As Yuder nodded slowly, Kishiar, showing rare hesitation, cautiously inquired, "Did you feel, in the dream, that the hand intended to harm you?"
Did that hand intend to harm him?
Yuder reflected.
From the moment he felt the touch until he awoke, his skin had crawled continuously. It was a touch so surreal that it bordered on fear. But to say that the hand felt malicious or vengeful? That wasn't the case.
The hand neither clenched into a fist to strike Yuder, nor did it strangle him.
It simply caressed slowly, wrote a word with its finger, and then pushed him away.
Yuder felt a deep aversion but no distinct murderous intent. Even a hand without a mouth could convey that much.
After much contemplation, Yuder shook his head in conclusion.
"No. I don't think it was... intending harm. Perhaps."
"Is that so."
Was Kishiar's voice quivering slightly, or was it Yuder's imagination? Before Yuder could respond, Kishiar had already moved on to his next thought, leaving no opportunity to further discern his reaction.
"Just because we know nothing now does not mean we will remain ignorant forever. I will continue to seek out relevant information. By the time of Aton's next investigation, I will have much to share."
Yuder, with his head bowed, gazing at the ground, asked,
"Do you not think that I am merely overreacting to a nonsensical dream?"
"It's natural for anyone to react strongly to an ominous dream. Had I been in your place, my reaction might have been even more intense. Have you already forgotten how I recently spent sleepless nights borrowing all sorts of forbidden books? If anything, that's what should be called an overreaction. Though personally, I don't think of it as such."
Kishiar lightly laughed, turning his recent actions into a joke.
"Even if it's hard to explain, there's certainly something troubling you, hence your deep contemplation so far. It might seem difficult to articulate now, but once understood, it might return as a simple answer like the strange cracks or disasters you believed to be supernatural phenomena."
"..."
"If it turns out to be merely a simple dream, then that would be the best outcome."
Yuder lifted his head to look at Kishiar again. In the meantime, the sun had risen higher, diminishing the backlight, and Kishiar's expression became visible once more. Yuder had expected him to be smiling gently as usual, but he was not.
He looked sad.