Chapter 44: Not So Different

As I step through the orphanage’s door, the full moon has already risen way above my head. With only the soothing, but dim, light of the moon at my side, finding a single person would normally prove to be a tough task. However, that only applies if the searcher and the target are both normal people, of course.

Spawning a gust as my lift, I soar up in the air with ease. The higher ground provides a much wider field of vision, which saves me a lot of time in identifying my search. And lo and behold, it doesn’t take me long to spot the obvious green figure curling up on the roof of the very building we were inside not too long ago. The young man stares blankly forward. In his eyes, a sense of sadness and regret lingers like a pest that can’t be rid of, no matter how hard you might try.

“Well, here goes nothing,” I exclaim my thoughts out loud before finally flying down to approach my target.

As I find my seat on the roof, however, it seems like my recently-found acquaintance isn’t too happy with my appearance. Immediately turning his body around, Peng asks with a grunt.

“What do you want?”

“The moon sure is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

“You can’t even see the moon from this position.”

“Then turn around,” I chuckle at the comment.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Suit yourself, then,” with a shrug, I reply, transitioning to my plan B. I take out the object I’ve been holding in my other hand since I left the orphanage – a bottle of fine wine I managed to snatch from the building – and open it for a drink.

“The hell was that?” Hearing the popping sound of the cork being opened has struck a bit of curiosity in Peng. Naturally, who can resist the sensation of having good alcohol on a moonlit night?

“Booze,” I answer.

“Where did you get it?”

“You’re not the only one who can do some sleight of hands, my friend.”

“Want some?” I continue, pushing the bottle towards him.

“… No,” replies Peng.

“Are you sure?” I pretend to raise my eyebrows in doubt, even if the one I’m talking to isn’t facing me at all. “It’s a waste of good scenery, you know.”

“Oh, please,” the young man retaliates. “It’s the oldest trick in the book. You’re trying to get me drunk so I’ll talk, right?”

“Well, do you want to talk?”

“… Give me that.”

 

As the cold wind continues to howl, sending chills on our skin, a refreshing warmth from the alcohol runs through our blood, creating a strangely relaxing contrast that is sure to attract anyone that has the luck to try. So, the old saying is true after all: a moonlit night, a cup of sake, what’s more to ask?

“Heeeyyy…” a timely hiccup sounds next to me, and along comes the groggy, half-conscious voice of the young man who, just a few minutes ago, was still sulking like a child. Oldest trick in the book, eh? His tolerance is even worse than I thought… Then again, I’m sure he doesn’t get to drink this thing that often.

“You know… I’m really mad…” Peng continues, his face already as flushed as a ripe tomato.

“Do tell. But may I ask… at what? Or rather… whom?”

“What do you… hic… think?”

“I would guess it’s about the archangel, is it not?”

“You got it all wrong…” flailing the half-filled bottle on his head, Peng denies, “well, you’re not wrong… but you’re still wrong…”

“Well, this is a surprise. May I ask the reason?”

“I’m mad at… hic… the old man, sure… but I’m also mad at… hic… me…”

As if to signal a timely pause, the young man downs another half of the remaining liquid. Wiping his mouth with his elbow, he continues, still in that almost knocked-out tone of his:

“I was still weak… so weak, that he let me win… and ran to the other world…”

“I figure that you’d also know about the truth,” I let out a sigh. “Since when?”

“Right at the final moment…” Peng lowers his head, seemingly ashamed of himself. “And I’m pissed about it…”

“Well, it’s hard to blame yourself for it. Raphael has hidden the truth from you all these years, right? For his plans to work, of course, he would…”

“No!” Not letting me finish my sentence, Peng firmly stands up all of a sudden and throws the bottle at me with all of his drunkard strength. Luckily, I can still react fast enough to soften the blow with a whirlwind as a cushion, or else I’d end up with a few bruises and scratches on my body, and the roof would reek of alcohol afterwards.

“You don’t get it!” The young man continues to shout, tears already flooding uncontrollably on his face. “I’m not mad about that! Why would he keep it a secret in the first place! Why did he have to treat me like trash! Why did he have to beat me to near death! And worst of all! Worst of all…”

The young man, as fast as when he stood up, kneels back down once more as if his ligament was snapped in two. Peng tries to form a fist, but his hands are already shaking in a mix of chill, sorrow, and regret, so much that he can’t even close his fingers properly. Still, in that awkward pose, as well as a voice so stuffy that one can’t even hear properly in the night’s wind, the young man continues:

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“… Why can’t I feel satisfied… even when he’s gone?”

His words make me hesitate in giving my answer. Simply put, I’m in no position to give my advice to him. Even if I was born from three souls, one of which even had millennia’s worth of memories and experience in dealing with others, I just can’t make those thoughts my own. It’s like an amnesiac rewatching a recording of his life – even if it should be his life, it still seems like nothing but a stranger’s. In the end… I don’t know what they’re all thinking – not Peng, not Raphael, not even the other half residing in me.

“Let me ask you this, then: what is Raphael to you?”

What exactly are the souls that made ‘you’ to you?

“I… I don’t know…”

“Come on. Think hard. I know you have an answer within you.”

Liar. Your mind is still a child’s. How can you know anything?

“He is…”

“Your enemy? Or… something else?”

Are they strangers, or are they another part of ‘you’?

“I… I really don’t know…”

“… It’s okay. I’ll ask another question, then.”

Never before have the words left my mouth so naturally. Am I asking Peng, or am I just reminding myself?

“Why do you fight?”

“… To settle the score… with my old man…”

“But why would you do that?”

“… To stop… the mistreatment… to the ones in the orphanage…”

“And are the children happy now?”

“They… are…”

“… What about the others?”

“What… others?”

“The other children, of course. In this nation. This continent. This world.”

Why are you worried so much, me? You said it yourself, remember? You’re here to search for that ‘something’. Even if they aren’t you, even if you can’t understand anyone, that’s what you’re here for. You learn from the people around you, forge bonds with them, grow to understand them, and maybe they can be that ‘something’ that you lack.

“It’s fine if you can’t sort out the emotions inside you, Peng,” finally, as a genuine smile appears again on my face, I answer. “Whether it’s hate, love, respect, or spite you feel towards him, in the end, it was him that pushed you forward, wasn’t it?”

“… Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Peng lets out a grin of his own, his face returning to normal. It seems like the alcohol is slowly leaving his system already.

“You know, maybe you and I are not so different. Both lost on our way of life.”

“Perhaps,” answers Peng, who has taken back the bottle from my grasp since who knows when. Raising the bottle towards me, he continues. “But then that means we better find our way back, right?”

“Yeah. We should.” I answer, gladly taking up the offer and down the rest of the content in the bottle in one fell swoop.

“Hey!” To my surprise, though, this doesn’t seem to please him. “Why did you drink it all?”

“You drank nearly the entire thing already,” I raise my eyebrows, “and you still want more?”

As the words leave my mouth, both of us, without any moment of notice, burst out in laughter at the same time, for a reason that neither could understand.

“Ahahaha… what the hell are we doing actually?” Peng wipes the tears – this time of joy and entertainment – off his face.

“Beats me, man. Beats me.”

“Hey, drunkards!” Before we could continue, however, a furious voice of a certain female companion echoes in the air, coming just below where we are seated. “Get down from there and rest up already! We’re leaving early tomorrow!”

“Early tomorrow? Where?” As both of us return to the ground, I ask. Already waiting for us is none other than Petra, who is waving a blank envelope in her hand:

“Where else? England.”

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