– Zion Water

Almost all of you supported Carson to carry Virgil, very well.

I hope you’d remain reliable in his adventures.

Once this prologue ends, we shall meet again next week.

Virgil remained sleeping on the dining table, and Carson looked at him, crunching into this sandwich. It was too crunchy for Carson’s stealthy preference, but it’s enjoyable enough.

Once he was done eating, Carson slowly carried Virgil’s body out from the chair, and brought him upstairs. He was reasonably heavy for his size, but at least not the heaviest. It didn’t take too long for Carson to arrive at the bedroom, and laid Virgil down on the bed. He then grabbed another pillow for himself as he sat down on the bed.

Carson thought about the fact he hadn’t slept with Virgil before—and he seemed much more peaceful in this state, too.

And now, it’s just Carson, and the lit lamp by their bed. The cloth he got from John ‌remained in his hand. But the longer Carson stared at its crescent pin, the more he doubted his own memory. He couldn’t tell if he had seen that symbol before.

As Carson laid down while digging through his memories, he recalled something else. Something he promised to Markus.

For as long as Carson remembered, Markus had been a part of the Sun Rage bandits before the incident. In the group where everyone was expected to be careful, Markus was the only one who dared to lower his guard around him. He couldn’t remember how, but he knew Markus was one of the friendlier ones to him.

Markus’ persona stood out from the rest of the bandits. His playful nature overlapped with his hunting persona so well—almost impossible to tell them apart. But Carson could tell when Markus was out for a hunt, and when Markus finally relaxed. He seemed so different, yet so similar at the same moment. He appeared to be cocky with his confidence, with all the times he said definitely, followed by whatever bullshit he could come up with. But behind that mask, he was a scaredy-cat, who desperately wanted to believe in his naive dreams—thinly-veiled among the stories he told Carson.

One night, as Markus slept next to Carson, he mentioned wanting to be free—from the cycle of hunting and being hunted. And at that moment, Carson—who had the idea of running away for his own causes—promised him one thing: once he finally escaped, he would bring Markus along too. And it was never brought up again—except for all the times they referenced this secret promise. At one point, Carson had forgotten what they promised about, but he thought he’d eventually remember it any time. Eventually, he finally remembered it when he had already escaped.

Carson was free, but Markus still remained with the Sun Rage bandits—unaware that Carson intended to run away after that arrest.

A mistake or two was to be expected, when it came to Carson’s style of going through his own plans. But with this mistake, he couldn’t help but dwell on it again, and again. Should he send a message to Markus? Even then, he had no idea where Markus could be on this night.

As Carson was lost in his thoughts, someone called him. “Carson?”

It was Virgil, who now sat next to him. He looked down at him with a certain look—his expressions relaxed, but with a posture tensed with worry.

“What? Oh, I brought you here.”

“Figures.” Virgil leaned down, wiping tears Carson didn’t realize he just shed. “Another nightmare?”

“Uh, no. Nope.” Carson yanked Virgil’s hand away from him and rubbed his eyes, as he shifted to sitting next to Virgil. Out of everyone to touch his face that gently, it had to be Virgil. Even Markus hadn’t touched him like that. If it weren’t for this house, Carson would’ve already run away into the seas, away from this continent, and drown.

“Something’s bothering you?” Virgil asked, and Carson only nodded back. Virgil then nodded, then shifted his focus to the jacket in Carson’s hands. “What’s that?”

Carson later explained what John had told and gave him. As he explained, Virgil remained there, listening, almost tempting Carson to mention Markus too—if he wasn’t careful.

“So, any next plans?” Virgil asked, tilting his head.

“Not yet. I might ask someone about this symbol, or find whoever owned this jacket.”

“Hmm,” Virgil looked at the crescent symbol, “looks like something you’d find in old books. You might need to find someone who—”

As Carson nodded along with Virgil’s suggestions, John barged in.

“Virgil!—oh, there you are…”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, looking at Carson, who only stared back at both of them. John eventually joined the two on this bed too, sitting next to Virgil.

“Told him about where to look into that symbol. No idea who owns that, but seems pretty old,” Virgil explained to John, and turned back to Carson, “you’re going after the culprit, right?”

Carson nodded, knowing that was only half of the truth. He wanted to know about everything. Everything about the incident.

“Were you… attacked?” John added, and at that moment, Carson’s shoulder tensed. He had to be careful with his words. He had no idea whether or not to answer that—John figured that out too quickly.

And Carson didn’t reply, as he remained frozen on the bed—until John patted his shoulder, as if to tell him it’s alright. John then glanced back at Virgil.

“Don’t press him. No idea what’s up with his mission, but eh,” Virgil pulled John’s hand away from Carson’s shoulder, letting it rest on himself, “let’s just sleep. You have work tomorrow, don’t you?”

John nodded, falling against Virgil’s shoulder—and it was enough for Carson to tell John fell asleep right away. Virgil shifted himself to fit three of them on this bed, and reached out to dim the lantern.

“Good night,” Virgil said to Carson, and he turned back to John, “you too.”

Carson had no idea this bed would fit the three of them this comfortably. He could sleep on the floor instead, but whatever.

Once Carson closed his eyes, he wondered. What should he do next?