The Black Beast

"Why can't you break it? It's been two hours now!"

Officer Gavin was on edge, listening to the same cling-clang sound bouncing inside the small, heavily guarded cellar.

"We are trying, but it isn't coming off, sir," the vice head of the crew—the same ignorant officer—answered with a salute.

"I told you. It's unbreakable."

Shackled from top to bottom, Facade was unable to move an inch as he tried to fully sense Gavin—standing at the edge of his vision.

They once again ignored Facade's suggestion and went on making yet another set of preparations.

There was a pedestal table by the wall—consisting of different pointed tools—one of them which Facade had perceived as a chisel.

Other than that was news to him.

Humph…they aren't listening to me. Man…every hit on my face just vibrates my brain. What are they even trying to do?

"Just do it already, man. It's a drag. To me and to you." Facade—clicking his tongue—mumbled to the one with the pickaxe in his hands.

After hearing Facade, the completely spent officer passed a sharp glare to his side.

"Real. No one's ever seen me since I was a child." Facade stated a solid fact, but it made no difference to their already complex faces.

After not getting enough of their responses, his attention diverted to his locked arms—especially the one with the deep wound.

I think they haven't noticed the bleeding.

Maybe I should tell them?

Facade became busy resampling a way to quickly change the repetitive ambience inside the stinking cellar.

Well, probably yes. But…maybe, no? Like that would arise another topic between them.

No! I can't afford to sell my acting so cheaply and say 'Look, I'm wounded.'

That would be too foolish!

He was so engrossed he didn't notice that officers had already released his attached shackles from the iron rings and exited the metal bars—only to lead him to another corner of the long, muted hallway.

Huh?

"I told you, there is a way he could be hurt."

"Oh, you were right, Officer Benson. But there is no reason that he'll tell us how to remove his all-but-weird veil. Especially when he can't be hurt or even touched by another person." Facade heard Officer Gavin and Officer Benson murmuring under their breaths ahead of him.

While Facade was following them—taking various turns and entering many hidden doors—he asked the same man who was hitting his unbreakable mask with a chisel before

"Man, you should at least tell me why you people bother making me shift the rooms every two hours."

The man first ignored Facade, but when he continuously fixed his eyes on the officer's face, he ultimately let out a slight sigh.

"Shut up! Like hell I would tell you something. And stop looking at me!" he hissed and changed his position with the man to his left.

…

As expected.

"Then you tell me. Will it do any good to go against the King? It's a lost cause, if you ask me." Facade again caught Officer Benson's whisper—forcing himself to Gavin's pace.

"Do I look like I climbed all the way here not knowing the consequences?"

"No, sir. I didn't mean that. I'm just… deeply concerned about the aftermath." Benson stopped for a couple of seconds before opening his mouth. "He is connected to the Mansion. And, on top of that, our very King Forter backing—"

Officer Gavin suddenly coughed and Benson dropped silent—not complimenting the King any further.

"Officer Benson."

Facade—even being three feet away from Officer Gavin's stride—witnessed the ignited glare he just gave to Officer Benson.

He figured out that Gavin was a man of rule and principle—and words weren't going to waver his dedication to the King.

Gavin clearly knew that no one could dare to turn against the King. He had the authority, the rule, and dominance between the three Kingdoms.

While the ancient one among them is Farayl, Laurae holds the supreme power—a weapon beneath the majestic beauty of his land.

The very one that even the King himself had never seen, and yet other kingdoms still gulp in fear if its name is stated between their conflicts.

"I don't recall stating that you could sell information amidst our mission. Especially…"

He pointed out the silver shackles grabbed from right and left instead of directly facing Facade.

"…not when the Black Beast is just walking right behind you." He redirected his gaze back to Benson.

Benson didn't respond back or apologize, instead, he passed Officer Gavin and turned the doorknob for him.

"Here, officer." He held out the wide wooden gate open for Gavin and the pack behind, but Gavin's eyes still gave the same incisive look when Benson came to his vision.

Facade crossed into the room just to realize that he had asked someone about his next destination.

He turned his face to his right, searching the man out of curiosity.

However, it was unfortunate that he let down his guard not once but twice in a single day—not knowing what happened while he was occupied in his own thoughts.

Both the officers vanished like a ghost from beside him and new men were stationed to grab his chains.

He scoffed at the absent officers while the newcomers frog-marched him a few feet further inside the ward.

By the antiseptic smell, Facade instantly imagined the four walls as a 'Treatment ward.'

Though the structure of the building was large and spacious, they didn't bother cleaning them at all.

Except the ones with higher officials and commanders in it.

But unlike other rooms, the ward was surprisingly different. Clean and much more organized despite being in the lower department.

There was a concern much bigger than deciphering the mystery of their hierarchy conflicts—The one eating Facade from inside when he was pushed to a vacant bed.

King Forter backing…who? Me? That's impossible. I haven't seen the man in my life.

Then, the mansion perhaps? But, why would the King do the most foolish thing there is to it?

Making a deal with the mansion is like directly stating that every wrong is absolutely right. It's corrupted and he knew it.

What the hell is going on without me?

A random boy approached the crew of seven men—shocked at first—he released Facade's injured hand from manacles while trying to attach the other wrist's shackle through a small hole carved in the bed.

"Won't do, boy. Take it slow and easy." Facade was upset he didn't know the full details about the weapon of the Kingdom and all, but he decided not to worry too much about the thing he didn't know.

The pale boy was taking heavy breaths—as though he had run a kilometer to reach the ward. So much that even Facade started to feel pity for him.

The boy didn't stop even after listening to Facade and proceeded with his jerky ways.

"Hey, easy!" Facade jolted back—a wave of pain arose when the boy twisted the arm to examine the elbow.

"W—What?"

The boy's action, as well as his voice, trembled when he gazed at Facade.

Aaaaa… I know you. I mean, it's the second time I'm landed in your hospitality…

Facade finally remembered the boy crouched beside him. He had met him before when he was caught—again on purpose—and was sent for examination in this same ward.

It was the worst he could recall by seeing the building of the Forces and didn't want the same outcome by staying there any longer.

"Yo—You a—are the top l—listed c—c—crimi…"

"Stop shaking, you brat! I'm injured."

Even if Facade was framed as a criminal—more accurately a Black Beast—he wasn't as ugly as to leave a shocking impression on others for too long.

Who the hell starts shaking knowing that no stupid being would escape while having a crowd around? It's gross to say that, but I got the answer right in front of me.

"He is on the top list of criminals, yes, we already know that. Treat him, and be wary of even a turn of his face, you heard me?" Officer Benson was supervising the ward boy, ensuring to feed every necessary information inside his head.

Especially, not forgetting to give a sour eye to Facade's stature.

"Leave it to…me. Yeah. It's nothing, really!" His stuttering suddenly vanished after noticing the senior officer standing right behind him.

"Good…" Benson narrowed his eyes on the boy before leaving the ward to other officers.

Facade again observed the sluggish boy, and he could feel his waves continuously distorting.

The boy was terribly shaking.

Where… have I stuck myself?

May 23, 2022

At Harrow Residency, Street 53

"Hello? Who's there?" Esmeray hesitated for a while.

"I'm—"

Glitch!

All she could hear was glitching and static because the signal tonight was poor.

Esmeray hung up the second she knew it couldn't be helped and decided to recall her brother's number—despite knowing that it wasn't Basili on the line.

It would be her third attempt to connect to the other side of the call. In fact, she was willing to listen to the mysterious caller who had just tried to connect with her fifteen times in a single minute.

"Hello? Can you hear me now?" Esmeray asked, cupping her hand over her mouth.

"Hello? Miss Esmeray? You get me?"

"Y—Yes. I get you. You were telling me your name. Where is Basili?" The signal finally became stable and she was able to hear a clear voice.

"It's Lark on the line. A policeman. Miss Esmeray, you have to come to the police station right away." His wind-carried voice once again turned into a glitch but achieved stability after a few seconds.

"But… how did you get my brother's phone? Where is he? I—Is he okay, Mister Lark?"

"I can't tell you this on the cell phone, so… please hurry up."

"O…Okay, I—I'm on my way."

The moment he declined the call, Esmeray rushed for the dangled keys on the backside of the main door and picked the one with the flattened home—sealed in a plastic coating.

She hopped the staircase, from the third floor to the ground level and dashed to the main road. The streets were barely filled with people and it was her luck that she found a taxi in the middle of a stormy night.

Her head filled with unanswerable questions—intrusions empowering her rational thinking. All she could hope for was her brother's safety.

There could be nothing more she wanted.

What happened to him? Was he arrested or...Damn it! Think positive, duffer!

She was able to break her false illusions and concentrated on the route the taxi was taking. It wasn't familiar to her, as she hadn't visited a police station before.

There was another fear developing inside—about the taxi driver taking her through obscure paths.

What if she is kidnapped? What will happen next?

The worst scenario was common wherever Esmeray was. Her presence oddly knocks on the door of destruction—but not for her. For others around.

It was what she thought about herself. However, she didn't notice that on many occasions, others were saved just by her presence.

Either weirdly or suspiciously.

She called it an 'Unluck Tag,' where her fate always leaves her alone with eerie situations and chooses her to attend the strange events within her everyday zone.

Or perhaps, save countless people from their forced tragedies. She didn't get the logic out of her unconvincing theory.

The driver turned his car into a parking lot when the sight of a policeman appeared—hands crossed over his chest, waiting for someone's appearance out of the blue fog.

Esmeray closed the door behind her but, to her surprise, it slammed too hard that she almost flinched from its intensity.

The driver stared from behind the window—brows creasing in shock.

"Forgive me. It wasn't me. I… It was the winds. Yes! The winds… probably."

Crap. I lied.

He nodded in response and turned his car to exit the district. Esmeray sighed in relief at not being spotted out as guilty, but the strings of worry pricked her conscience once again.

She finally marched her way to meet the blurry figure clothed in wine-red and dark forest green.

"Oh. So, you arrived. Yes, I'm Officer Lark. Miss Esmeray, follow me." He read her like a book and answered without wasting a mere second.

God knows how he knew that I was the one on the phone.

She followed him inside the station, painted in the same color as the officer's uniform. The only thing he did was unlock his office and lead her to a small room built inside the corner.

Esmeray witnessed many monitors fixed like marble tiles on the dull wall. Every screen represented some scenes—while some were stuck in glitch.

Her eyes were locked on the large one to her left—the white triangle hiding the headlight of the car parked in the center of the captured video.

"Why are we here?" She still eyed the stopped video, as though glaring would continue what was paused.

"See this."

Lark pointed out the same screen that Esmeray was glaring at.

It was almost blurry due to fog. Only a car, a bushy plain behind it, and the streetlight bouncing and brightening some parts of the scene were visible. With a click of a mouse, the video started to play.

A young boy with cat-shaped spectacles appeared out of the edge of the camera lens and started unlocking a small, white car. He was frustrated, trying to sort out the right key between the bunch—each one carrying its own falttened keychain.

"Wait!" Esmeray moved a step forward—eyes widened to see the familiar feel. "Basili?"

"Yes, you got it right." Officer Lark paused the video in between to confirm the doubt she had from the start.

Kidnapping.

"He's… kidnapped?" Her voice barely came out of her throat—shattered in between.

"Yeah, but don't worry, we'll find him soon." Officer Lark gave a sense of authority. A sense of responsibility out of concern, but it wasn't enough for Esmeray to believe.

She couldn't believe in anyone. She would not.

"Miss Esmeray, please, you have to calm down. We are here to serve justice. We won't let our pride fall." He tapped his chest twice—a way the Forces show their promise.

No way… Not a chance I'm going to lose him, right? I've already had much of it. I've already… lost so much in my life. It would be unfair, utterly unfair if I lose my brother too! It's… it would be too unfair for my life to be like that! It's already hell!

It's hell!

"Miss? Miss Esmeray? You alright?" Lark bent a little to examine the shaken girl staring at the screen. "Take a seat please. Want water?"

"Huh? Huh, yes. Um, I'm—I'm fine. I'm alright, no water. Sir...have you recognized the man who did that?" She was forced to exit her flooding thoughts, still looking at the paused screen.

"No, not yet. Due to unfortunate weather, we are still finding the correct identity. But..." He stopped and gritted his teeth.

"But what?" She finally turned her eyes to Officer Lark.

"But… we… we doubt that it's the work of the Black Beast."

"The what? Who the hell is that!?" A storm of fury erupted out of her emotions—mixed with traces of confusion.

She had never heard the name before.

"You don't know? He's the one responsible for recent kidnappings—oh, have you heard the news about the demolition of the Mundand Family?"

Esmeray—who drew her brows together in uncertainty—nodded. She recalled watching the news not more than a week ago.

"It was the work of the Black Beast. Word is… that he stole their blueprints in order to destroy them. Not only the Mundand Family but unrelated nobles were framed for illegal accusations." Lark dipped himself into the seat he just offered to Esmeray—considering the previous data about the wanted beast.

"It's weird. Every accusation was too accurate to plan." He took a deep breath. "Either the mastermind is some kind of genius maniac or… the royals were at fault."

"So… it's—it's not hopeless, right?" She encouraged her positive thoughts over negative ones, but Officer Lark's tight lips cracked her even more.

When Lark realized her situation, he abruptly landed on his feet, apologizing for the tension he had just created.

Esmeray, on the other hand, waved her open palms in refuse.

"No. It's okay. It's the truth, officer. There is no need to hide it." She let out a deep breath and regained her rationality.

It had come to me countless times, I'll pass it too.

I surely will.

"You can leave when the wind slows down, Miss Esmeray. I would have shown you this tomorrow but, we're full with the mess that Black Beast left. It had to be managed as soon as possible." Lark elaborated on his reasons to call Esmeray in the middle of the night. She was still in her position, not daring to move until she dropped another question for Officer Lark.

"Officer, why don't we, the citizens, know about the Black Beast? It's new to me. Although, I heard that there is a man who creates havoc wherever he touches his feet, and the Forces were trying to catch him for years."

She actually wanted to mock the Forces about their irony.

We are catching, too close, almost caught. But there was never a word that clearly says,

'The Werewolf has been caught'

The man responsible for many cases was often described as 'Werewolf'—but Esmeray never got why.

Unlike a werewolf, he was more like a fox—face always hidden in dark and cameras unable to catch a clear photo of his face in years.

"Why the Mundand family case is framed to Black Beast? What I heard in the news was about Werewolf, being the main reason for their fall." Her curiosity deepened more and more while being in the same, monitored room.

"Well, crap. I talk too much." Officer froze after realizing what he had just revealed to a citizin.

About the Black Beast that they had never heard before.

"What?"

"It's… more of a deep topic. And, censored too. Sorry, but I can't tell you any further." Lark again apologized, hearing the tides of wind hitting the walls from outside instead of looking in Esmeray's eyes.

She dipped her chin in disappointment—not getting a clearer view of what was going on.

Both in her life and the Kingdom.

"But, yes, I can tell you one thing."Lark continued—taking a short break before sampling his thoughts.

Esmeray's eyes suddenly sparkled by a silver lining that Lark had just given to her.

"What, sir? Tell me."

But before Lark could make Esmeray swear on not leaking the information, she added.

"I won't tell it to anybody. I promise."

"... Okay. Maybe I could trust you with this." Lark coughed lightly. "The Werewolf," he stood straight—observing the quiet surrounding in silence for a minute—then whispered to the waiting Esmeray.

"The Werewolf doesn't exist."