The next day…Jonah was dead.
His tomb was placed in the makeshift graveyard the Ruined had erected for burying their dead.
Thousands upon thousands of crudely placed tombstones stood together as though staging a memorial for the next ones to pass.
Kuon and Murphy stood in front of Jonah’s tombstone.
Kuon’s hands were all muddy after digging his grave and a grim sense of tragedy permeated across his face as he stared at the mud which Jonah was now buried under.
He sighed…Then, he took a hand-crafted wooden cross and stabbed it into the grave.
The Ruined did not believe in God.
After all they had suffered—starvation, torture, and loss—it was hard to blame them.
If God existed, He seemed to have abandoned them all long ago, just like the world had.
Yet everytime one of the Ruined died, a simple wooden cross was often placed above the grave.
Though faith had faded, its symbols remained.
Kuon was not particularly religious, but as he stood among the countless graves, even he found himself hoping that there lay some measure of mercy in the heart of God.
As Kuon stood up, he glanced at Murphy.
What he saw however, was unexpected.
The old man’s expression was eerily calm.
Not the reusureing type, but the type of eerieness which felt like it could be sharper than a blade.
Murphy kept staring motionlessly at the tombstone, at the grave where the body of his son lay.
He did not speak.
He did not even blink.
He just stood there, motionlessly.
A cold shiver ran down Kuon’s spine but he quickly vaquished it and began clasping his hands together in a prayer.
He motioned Murphy to do the same but the elderly man did not react at all.
‘…’ Kuon started the prayer, then he finished it and turned his gaze to all the other tombs resting in the dirt.
‘May God or…whatever it is that is Almighty have mercy.’ He sighed and turned to Murphy who was still motionlessly staring at Jonah’s grave.
However, in the next second, his expression changed.
The man’s lips curled into a what was supposed to be a soft smile.
That smile was anything but soft however.
Murphy finally took his eyes off the grave and turned to Kuon.
If the expression of eerieness radiating through the old man was chilling before, now it felt like a tide that threatened to trample Kuon underneath its waves.
Kuon unconsciously took a step back without realising, but then straightened and reached to pat Murphy on the shoulder.
But the old man caught his wrist first.
“It’s okay…I’m fine.” Murphy smiled.
This time however, it wasn’t creepy or eerie.
It was soft and genuine, real and firm, and unmistakably…forced.
Kuon stared into his eyes which looked to be two boundless pools of darkness.
His dark expression however, was completely gone.
It was as though the man was relieved.
Then, he started to walk away at a steady pace.
Kuon decided to follow him but as he got close, Murphy turned around.
“You don’t need to follow me.
I’m perfectly fine…” “But-” “It’s nothing,really…I just need a few moments to think things through alone, so you should go back home to your sister.
That girl must be waiting anxiously.” Kuon’s lips quivered slightly as he stood there, refusing to move.
A deep frown appeared on his face as he reached a hand to the old man once more.
Murphy pierced him with a cold gaze, then smiled.
However, that smile quickly faded, morphing into an expression of sorrow.
He spoke softly, “Kuon…” Kuon stood there with his hand reached out.
A strange expression came across his face.
Eventually, he took his hand back in an awkward manner.
A frown curled downwards as he looked at Murphy with uncertainty.
He sighed however, and whispered, “Alright…Take care.” With that, the old man smiled, a glint of an unspoken emotion flickering in his eyes as he walked away, leaving Kuon standing there.
Kuon had been involuntarily holding his breath which he then exhaled.
Then, he looked into the garden of the dead, at the thousands of tombs resting in it and made his way towards one of them.
This was the grave of the person that raised Kuon and Stephanie since birth, their adoptive father of sorts.
Kuon could not forget the man, even though he never got to know his name.
Kuon’s look changed to a dark expression of sorrow as he stared.
After all, Kuon was the one who buried his body with his own hands aswell as many other graves for the dead Ruined of the 242nd district.
After a short prayer, Kuon decided to go back to their little cottage.
Indeed, his sister was probably worried.
He grinned to himself.
Returning home however, he found Stephanie fast asleep.
“I swear, this girl…” After that, he went into the kitchen to wip up some much anticipated pizza and of course, it was going to be made with…
REAL F*CKING DOUGH The delicious aroma spread through the cottage, spilling out into the withered streets.
Kuon could be seen humming loudly as he watched the burning stone oven with pure anticipation.
After a few more minutes, the pizza was done.
Kuon smile grew wider as he pulled it out of the heat.
“Steph-” “I’m right here!” Kuon flinched, startled.
Stephanie had woken up a long time ago and had been sitting there the entire time, watching him hum to himself like a fool.
“F*ck…Don’t scare me like that.” Steph rolled her eyes, then focused on the tray in his hands.
Her expression changed.
“Is…is it pizza?” “Can’t you see?
Of course it is.” Kuon grinned.
“And that is not even the best part…This right here was actually made with real dough.” Steph’s expression turned deadpan and she stared at Kuon as if he were a massive spider.
Kuon chuckled internally.
‘Poor thing…She is speechless.’ At that moment, Stephanie suddenly closed her eyes…
And burst out laughing.
“That…that was the best joke whatever!” “Hey-” Kuon retorted angrily.
What was happening?
Why were people calling him a comedian?
He did no such thing for him to be called that.
The next day, Kuon could be seen walking towards Murphy’s house with a plastic bag dangling in his hand.
He had decided to check up on the old man and see how he has been doing.
He even brought some delicious leftover pizza made with real dough to clear his mind aswell as some medicine just in case.
As he reached the house however, a strange feeling gripped his heart and made him go still for a while.
Kuon simply shrugged it of however.
He was used to feeling tense at moments like these.
What was the difference this time?
Kuon had buried lots of dead children like Jonah before.
This type of feeling was not unfamiliar too him.
In fact, it might have been way too familiar.
Kuon sighed and knocked on the door three times.
No answer.
Not even any sound of movement.
He knocked again, this time calling out, “Mr.
Murphy!” Still, no answer.
That was strange.
Kuon frowned.
One of four things could’ve happened.
One, Murphy had gone into depression and had drunk way too much alcohol resulting in him passing out.
Two, he is simply dead asleep.
Three, he is simply busy in his underground chamber.
And four, He is voluntarily refusing to answer.
The last thought worried Kuon the most.
He knocked again, louder this time.
Still, no answer.
There was not even any sound coming from the cottage.
It was as though no one lived there at all.
‘Damn it, old man.’ Kuon exhaled and took a step back.
Then he kicked the door open, breaking the lock system and nearly bringing the frame itself down with it.
Kuon grunted as he proceeded inside.
“Hey, old man.
Sorry for the door.
I’ll fix it some other ti-” His eyes widened in horror and the plastic bag dropped to the floor.
‘No…’ Kuon stood there…
‘No…’ Expressionless…
‘No…’ Staring at the image…
‘…’ In front of him…
The corpse of Murphy hanged from the ceiling…
‘What..what is this…Why?’ Kuon stared at the corpse dangling in front of him, a dark expression rippled, washing away his fear and replacing it with a look of grim sorrow.
He slowly walked towards the body, every step taken calmly and with precision.
Yet, he nearly stumbled.
Looking into the eyes of a dead man was really something else.
They looked so alive and yet, so not.
It was a strange feeling.
Kuon’s right eye twitched.
Then, he slowly stretched his hand out and grabbed the dead man’s wrist.
With a feeling of deep sorrow, he whispered, “I am sorry.”