NOVEL NEXT Chapter 32: Digesting a Lie
Zakar walked in without a word. His steps were heavy, his face pale, and his eyes clouded with thoughts that he could not put into words. Both Myia and Sera stared at him as he crossed the room.
He carried the unconscious woman with surprising gentleness, lowering her onto his bed as though afraid she would shatter if he was careless. Slowly, he adjusted her limp body, setting her comfortably against the soft sheets and tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Who's that? And why are you battered up? What happened?" Myia's voice trembled with concern. She could barely keep still as she looked between Zakar and the woman.
Zakar didn't answer. Instead, he sat at the bedside, his breath uneven. He pulled at the buttons of his blood-stained shirt until it slid open, revealing a torso marred with bruises, cuts, and deep scars. The rawness of his wounds made Myia gasp in horror.
"Zakar!" she cried, leaping down from her bed and rushing to his side. "What happened to you?!"
He didn't respond. His hands moved automatically, tearing at the hem of his shirt before wrapping the cloth around the woman's bleeding arm, improvising it into a makeshift bandage. His silence pressed on the air like a weight.
"Come on! Speak!" Myia pressed, her voice softer this time, almost pleading. But Zakar's eyes remained distant.
He moved to the other side of the bed, sitting quietly, lost in the chaos of his thoughts. The memories struck like daggers how he had killed those men, how he had eaten them like a ravenous beast. The faces replayed in his mind, twisted with fear, until he could hardly breathe.
Why? he asked himself bitterly. I thought I had overcome this. Why do I still feel like a murderer? Why does the blood on my hands refuse to wash away?
"Zakar?" Sera's voice cut through his storm of thoughts. Unlike Myia's, it carried no tenderness only sharpness and challenge.
"Are you going to talk, or just sit there like some half-dead punk?"
Her words forced him to exhale heavily. He had already planned what he would say long before he reached the room. He had rehearsed it while carrying the woman, forcing himself to believe the lie. He couldn't tell them the truth
Telling them that he had killed three men, devoured them under the system's control. His body twisted by the beast within. The truth would damn him. No, a lie was his only refuge.
"She was under attack," he said at last, his voice low and deliberate. "I stepped in… but I was beaten nearly to death. Knocked unconscious for hours."
Both girls stiffened. Myia, still standing near him, frowned. "You were knocked unconscious? By who?"
Zakar hesitated, feigning the weight of memory, then shook his head. "I… I don't know. I couldn't see them clearly."
Myia stared at him in disbelief. "How is that possible? You should at least remember their faces. If not for yourself, then for revenge."
"No," he muttered quickly, turning his gaze away. "I wasn't given the chance. No breathing space. Just… chaos."
She continued to watch him, her eyes searching for truth in his expression, but he held firm.
Sera, leaning against the bedpost, folded her arms. Her crimson eyes gleamed with suspicion as she spoke in a measured tone. "You said the girl was attacked. Do you have any idea why? Or by whom?"
Zakar's eyes flickered to her, meeting the intensity of her stare. He could feel her testing him, prying into the cracks of his lie. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm.
"No. I have no clue. I only stepped in because I wanted to save her life."
He turned abruptly to Myia, his voice softening. "Please, can you heal her? She's lost a dangerous amount of blood."
Myia faltered, her gaze dropping to the unconscious woman. She hesitated, then looked back at Zakar, her healer's instincts fighting against her worry for him.
"But… you're badly injured too. You're covered in wounds. Shouldn't I start with—"
"No." Zakar cut her off quickly, his tone sharper than intended. He caught himself and lowered his voice.
"No, Myia. You must save her first. She won't survive without you. I'll endure. Please… you're the only healer we have."
Myia opened her mouth to argue, but Zakar's voice cracked as he whispered, "Please… just this once. Help her first."
The plea silenced her. She swallowed hard and finally gave a small nod. "All right…"
Stretching out her hands, she summoned the light of her healing gift. A soft blue glow spread from her palms, washing over the woman's injuries.
Slowly, the blood flow ceased, and the wounds began to knit closed under the radiant energy. Zakar's lips curved faintly upward as relief washed through him.
Meanwhile, Sera broke the silence again, her tone deceptively casual. "Do you know where Justin is?"
Zakar turned his head, startled. "What? Justin's not here?"
Both women blinked at him, surprised at his reaction. Sera tilted her chin. "No. He hasn't been in this room since the portals closed."
For a moment, Zakar's chest tightened, his heartbeat hammering wildly. A chilling thought slashed across his mind .
Was Justin following him? Did he witness what happened outside? If so, then everything his lies, his secret was in jeopardy. He would have to find out.
"When did he leave?" Zakar asked quickly, almost too sharply.
Sera raised a brow at his sudden concern. "I just told you. Since the portals closed."
"Right… I just wanted to know," he muttered, forcing his tone into something calmer. The lie sat like ash on his tongue. Lying was harder than fighting, harder than killing, yet it was the only shield he had left.
Before the tension could deepen, a voice roared through the building, shaking the walls like thunder.
"EVERYONE OUT FOR DINNER!"
General Lemon's dark, commanding tone left no room for hesitation.