Chapter 6: Chapter 5 – A New Confrontation

Meanwhile, Orb was knocking on the door of the isolation room repeatedly and as hard as he could so the servants overseeing him outside could hear him, however, they ignored him, fearing they would violate the orders and instructions of their master.

Orb sat next to the door, hoping someone would come and ask him what he needed, until it was time to serve dinner. Riecho came into the room and saw him leaning against the wall by the door.

He had stretched his legs in a sight that suggested that he had been waiting for a long time. She left the plate on the small table, and said impartially, “Orb, on the table is a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. I added more vegetables to nourish you and help you recover quickly.”

“Could you help me, madam?” Orb asked politely.

Riecho stood before him, clasping her hands in front of her. “My name is Riecho. I do not betray my master,” she said in a low but clear tone.

“I won’t ask you to help me escape, nor to help me kill him because it won’t work. I know I don’t have the strength to do it.”

Riecho noticed that Orb was not looking at her. She did not know that at that moment, he immensely despised himself because of his weakness and defeat, but his trembling voice sounded desperate, so she asked him in genuine concern, “So, what do you want?”

Orb raised his head feeling a little hope in her willingness to listen. “I want a piece of paper, a pencil, and one stick of incense, the kind that was used to put me to sleep.”

“And what do you intend to do with them?”

“I won’t lie. I want to study the composition of the incense to change it,” he cautiously replied.

“Why do you want to change it?”

Orb was silent for a moment, hesitating out of lack of trust, but he found no harm in explaining his purpose, which might be a good reason for her to answer his request.

“I would like to make an improved kind that helps me sleep well. I—I lately have broken nights because my heart keeps pounding,” he explained.

“Are you going to study its composition, to make a kind that helps you sleep?”

“Yes.”

Riecho sighed. “But those sticks are...”

“I know that they already serve the purpose, but they suck my energy and weigh me down. I wake up exhausted and weak. I’m going to make a kind that doesn’t affect me like that.”

He paused.

“I am in a constant state of anxiety, spending my day expecting all kinds of punishments and torments. I can only find comfort in sleep. I want to sleep comfortably.” He whispered.

Orb raised his damaged eyes, and in an imploring tone, added “Please, if you help me, I promise to keep it a secret.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Please finish your soup this time. I’ll be back in a little while,” Riecho spoke in a clear voice and a neutral tone, then quickly left the room.

Orb fixed his confused eyes on the door, which was hastily shut. He was about to despair, for it was the third time he had asked a servant for that kind of help, and his request was either met with outright rejection or disregard.

I thought this time is different. I hoped so. Orb stood up and returned to his corner where he slept and ate. He sat facing the bowl of soup in which the vegetables were swimming in unusual abundance.

Orb raised the spoon to his mouth cautiously, fighting back an urge to shed tears and a feeling of disappointment and resentment by swallowing the food without chewing.

At least that woman was willing to listen to me patiently—she was interested—maybe—maybe if I tried one more time she would agree, he thought to himself.

After some time, Orb heard the door open and close quietly. From behind the door, he heard Riecho’s voice, “I’m coming in, Orb.”

Riecho was the only woman who, of all the servants, had shown him sympathy since he came. He could sense from her clear and strong voice when arguing with the servants outside that she was a well-respected woman of presence and power.

Because of how her warm, plump hand felt every time she held his hand, for no apparent reason other than pity or sympathy, Orb felt she was a tender and patient mother. Yet he was unable to give her his full trust, still feeling everyone’s strong loyalty to Vermon without understanding the secret behind it.

At that moment Riecho sat on both knees in front of Orb to clear the table. With her right hand, she held the plate which contained the unfinished meal while with the other, she took out from under the folds of her apron a roll of paper, a pencil, and one stick of incense and placed them quietly on the table.

Orb was able to faintly discern what she was doing, yet he allowed her to gently grab his right hand and place it on the table for him to notice what rested on its surface. The entire time, she admonished him in a loud voice, making sure the servant guarding the room could hear.

“What? I see you didn’t finish your soup, even though I doubled the vegetables for your own good! Are you going to refrain from eating every time your request is not answered? You and my master are alike in this matter! How childish!”

“Riecho, — thank you,” Orb whispered in deep gratitude.

***

That night, Vermon entered Orb’s isolation room, and found him seated before the small, low table, rubbing a stick of incense that Vermon had used to put him to sleep for the last few days.

Carefully examining its powder between the fingers of his right hand, Orb seemed too focused to notice Vermon’s presence.

Orb then raised the stick to his nose for some time, trying to sniff and discover its scent. However, his frown revealed his failure because he had not recovered his sense of smell yet.

Orb picked up the pencil and jotted something on the piece of paper that rested in front of him on the little table. The sight of all that as well as the servants’ leniency with Orb, had angered Vermon.

“Who gave you the incense stick? Who gave you the paper and pencil? I will cut his hand!” he angrily shouted.

Vermon’s threats did not alarm Orb, on the contrary, he remained passive and said nothing, which drove Vermon to stand opposite him, “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

Orb, not wanting to reveal Riecho’s secret, for he promised her to keep it, raised his head to his tormentor quietly, and then said in the same calm tone, “I don’t want to.”

“Are you protecting your accomplice? That who conspired against me?”

“This is not a conspiracy. I also do not protect servants who betray their masters. I just do not want to give you an answer.”

Vermon’s eyes shone with excitement as he stood with his arms akimbo. Orb’s answer was strange, showing that he was a young man with principles, and at the same time confirming his indifference to the impact of his blunt words on others.

Therefore, Vermon decided not to insist on knowing who gave Orb the items but was thankful deep down for having made an occasion to talk to him.

“Huh! I could extract a confession from you or them if I wanted!” he challenged.

A few seconds passed, then Vermon leaned toward Orb. “What are you doing?” He asked in a less strident tone while intently examining the table.

“Analyzing the composition of the incense.”

“What?” Vermon, in curiosity he did not try to hide, sat cross-legged in front of Orb. “Why?”

“...”

At that moment, Orb was able to steal glances at Vermon and see him, at close range, childishly bending his broad shoulders and staring with wide eyes at what rested on the table.

How innocent! I can’t believe that he is the same monster who tortures me every day, Orb marveled.

“I see you take short notes. So you can see?” Vermon questioned.

Vermon’s comment did not bother Orb who was holding the pencil with his right hand and drawing the letters nimbly after carefully calculating the distances.

“I only list the incense components to be read by someone else other than me, for the vision in my left eye is blurry and I can’t see my handwriting clearly,” he admitted.

“Yes, your handwriting is ugly,” Vermon claimed, intending to annoy Orb, then looking straight into his pale eyes, he added, “Why don’t you cover your eyes? Did nobody tell you how ugly and disgusting they look?”

Orb paused for a minute. He felt the sting of Vermon’s hurtful words, the intended malice behind them, and the pain of losing his sight and his inability to defend himself.

“My handwriting is so beautiful. I don’t know who’s the blind one here!” Orb gave a nonchalant shrug even though his heart was aching.

“Hah! You know how to ridicule!”

Vermon picked up the incense stick from the table and began to twiddle it for a while. “What? Are you going to use it against me?” He questioned as he narrowed his eyes.

“I want to develop its composition.”

“Why?”

“To send you to your grave?” Orb fearlessly sneered.

Vermon froze for a moment, then chuckled. He felt excited and certain that this was a new confrontation with this defiant man.

“How impudent of you! You can’t do that; I’m immune to poisons and toxicants!” Vermon proudly confirmed.

Orb said nothing.

***

Vermon watched Orb passing his hand over the table carefully in search of the stick but did not tell him he was still holding it. “Have you studied chemistry?” he questioned.

“No.”

“Botany?”

“No.”

“Toxicology?”

“No.”

“Then,” Vermon nonchalantly threw the stick on the table. “How do you plan on making something that you don’t know?” Vermon crossed his arms and continued. “I have seen your knowledge of herbs. Tell me the truth. If you haven’t studied it, then you must have been practicing it as a profession.”

“Not true.”

Vermon’s patience was running thin as Orb’s short answers gave him the impression that he was unwelcome.

“Are you trying to provoke me?” Vermon apparently was annoyed.

“I read it in a book.”

Orb found the stick, which Vermon had thrown, and cautiously picked it up. Then, he was startled when Vermon hit the table with his hand in an unspeakable fury.

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However, without revealing the slight uneasiness he was beginning to feel, Orb exclaimed, “I meant the new composition. I read about it in a book.”

“And why do you read about the composition of drugs and toxins in a book?”

Vermon’s angry tone calmed a bit, but it was tinged with doubt as that mysterious young man did not give him any details that would satisfy his curiosity.

“I read everything,” Orb said in a neutral tone.

“You seem to like to read, but where are your books? I didn’t see you holding one when I found you.”

“I didn’t have one.”

Vermon’s body leaned toward Orb as he began examining him closely with squinting eyes. “Why?” he wondered.

Orb was silent for a moment, and after leaving everything on the table, he straightened up and replied in a low voice, “I don’t know. Must I carry books with me?”

“Playing dumb, I see. Did you decide giving up your books after going blind?”

“...”

“Since you are so clever, why did you bury yourself in Awa Temple?” Vermon kept his eyes fixed on Orb’s solemn features. “Why didn’t you try to treat your eyes?” He asked in clear sarcasm.

Orb suffered another painful question, because he only lost his eyesight due to a special reason that he found hard to explain to the cruel man sitting in front of him.

Furthermore, he did not feel at the time the desire to share the details of his private life with the one who abducted and enslaved him against his will.

“Answer me!”

“I’m confused. You ask so many questions,” Orb said after a moment of hesitation.

“No, you’re just being evasive!” He paused for a moment. “By the way, I’d like to know how mad and stubborn you are to run down the roads at night with damaged eyes. Are you sure you’re blind?” Vermon feigned ignorance and wanted a clear answer from Orb.

***

“Didn’t the Crown Prince tell you that I'm a Roaming Star?" Orb asked sincerely, questioning Vermon’s intent. "I know the directions I want, even if I’m blind,”  he was not sure what Vermon was aiming for.

“So you can find directions, but you cannot see what is in front of you.”

“…”

“And yet I’m still in wonder, for I’ve never seen anyone own what you have. It’s incredible! I mean, you are so bold and can run and jump freely, despite your condition.”

Orb did not want to comment on Vermon’s last statement though his excitement sounded sincere and childish.

When Vermon did not get a reaction to his liking, he suddenly got on his knees and put his palms on Orb’s shoulders after simply pushing the table aside.

“Let me see,” he excitedly said.

Orb flinched at Vermon’s sudden action and the weight of his palms resting on his slender shoulders.

“See what?” he exclaimed in shock.

“Your Roaming Star.”

Orb grabbed one of Vermon’s palms in his hand, intending to push it away as he protested forcefully.

“That is not possible.”

“Isn’t it in your eyes?”

Vermon seemed disturbed by Orb’s resistance, especially after Orb used his injured hand to try to get rid of Vermon’s palms; however, his resistance was weak.

“Of course not, it’s imperceptible, an unexplained paranormal,” Orb shouted in the same nervous tone.

Vermon threw Orb to the ground, pinning his shoulders firmly with his huge palms. He did not believe Orb’s words and felt he was inclined to deceive him. He was sure of it because of Orb’s previous attempt to escape, and because of his tendency to disobey.

“I don’t believe you!” He angrily exclaimed.

Orb did not have the strength to prolong his resistance, nor could he convince the mighty villain of the reality of the Roaming Star within him.

He was aware that any discussion with him was futile. So he prepared himself for a fierce confrontation with him again even though he worried about being hurt while he had not fully recovered yet.

“Let me go! I’m not lying!”

“Shut up!”

In those few seconds, Orb saw, with his blurry vision, Vermon who was on all fours over him. He saw his thick, dark braided hair, adorned with a few shiny ornaments, and cascading around his oval face and broad shoulders. His lips were apparently full and red, and his eyes were big with thick eyelashes. Orb deduced that he was handsome and still young.

Orb was startled by Vermon’s fingers resting on top of his left eye and roughly opening his eyelids, much to Orb’s annoyance, who struck Vermon’s palm with his arm away from his eye for a moment.

“Don’t touch me!” He irritably shouted.

“You won’t stop me!”

When Vermon tried again to examine Orb’s eye, Orb raised his head quickly and bit Vermon’s wrist fiercely.

Vermon was taken aback for a moment but did not budge, he just opened his mouth in rage, then decided to suppress his pain and anger.

Vermon was experiencing a hidden pleasure by watching Orb still sticking his teeth in his wrist and was strangely patient despite his severe pain and bleeding wound.

***

“You Devil! I will tear your mouth open!” Vermon finally said, smiling in ecstasy.

When Orb felt Vermon’s excitement and saw the silhouette of his smile above him, he freed Vermon’s wrist from his fangs.

“Go to Hell!” Orb shouted again.

Vermon’s palms struck the floor above Orb with force, then, he looked at him with disgust. “Won’t you speak to me politely? I am your master!” He reprimanded.

“I own myself. I do not recognize you as my master. You—you monster who usurped my freedom!”

Orb turned his damaged eyes away when he shouted these words, as if he hated Vermon gazing at them.

“I owe you a favor. I’ll live to pay it back, and nothing more,” Orb furiously added.

“How arrogant! I don’t need you to pay your debts; I can lock you up here and humiliate you forever. I can kill you, drink your blood, and dance on your corpse until it dissolves! But I won’t do it because that’s what you want!” Vermon pressed his lips tightly then retorted, “Thank me!”

“Thank you for saving my life. But as for the cursed seal that you put on my hand, I will never thank you, nor forgive you!”

Vermon’s hand swiftly grabbed Orb’s shirt, intending some violence, but changed his mind and restrained himself.

“I regret asking Luba to treat you,” he hissed in a fit of pique.

“You will feel so much regret with me,” Orb scorned.

Vermon caught Orb’s little face with one hand and squeezed the delicate skin with his angry fingers while fuming, “You bastard! Are you threatening me while your life is in my hands?”

“I will never —give you —what you want,” extremely pained and struggling to breathe, Orb retorted with a muffled voice.  

“I can take what I want from you if I wish!” Vermon smirked as his eyes swept Orb’s body, “even though I regret saving your life, I will not let you die! There’s so much to do with you! You should know that it’s not in my nature to think of the consequences of my actions.” Vermon snickered.

Vermon released Orb’s face after leaving him panting with red imprints on his face. He glared at Orb with wild eyes, then slapped him before standing up straight.

“A good event awaits you, days from now—I can’t wait to humiliate you!”

Vermon kicked the small table into the air, smashing it and scattering everything on it; the medication, the incense stick, and the paper on which Orb was writing.

“I won’t let you do what you want, you bastard, until you beg me,” he menacingly spoke as he watched the pieces fall to the ground.

Orb’s face turned red in rage, but he managed to control his temper and said nothing. He remembered Akinos’ words when he warned him not to provoke Vermon.

And even when Vermon summoned the servant to take the paper and the incense stick out of the room, Orb fought the urge to tell him the real reason for ordering the incense stick.

I only wanted to improve it and use it to help me sleep better at night. Too late. He is enraged. Why can’t we have a normal conversation?

Hence, Orb only observed Vermon in silence until he left.

After that, Orb spent part of the night trying to calm his pounding heart and panting breath, which were caused by a sense of anguish and unease about the mysterious event that Vermon promised him days later.

He was not ready to taste a new wave of torment and pain.

***

Thank you very much, dear friends, for reading this chapter.

NOTES

Riecho – [Pronunciation Guide: Reet-shoe]

*Illustration of Vermon & Orb is done by https://www.instagram.com/snowleart/

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