The City of Ionia

I knew precisely why, giving a simple nod like he said I could.

The reason people live outside in the walls is simple: Outsiders are sinners. When the City of Ionia was first established, all criminal punishment was banishment, whether severe or minor. They wanted a perfect city with no criminals or criminal activity. The constant banishment resulted in the birth of outsiders. Today, outsiders are simply the descendants of those sinners.

“Exactly. So, if you know the reason, then why should you, ‘sinners,’ deserve to live in this so-called paradise? Shouldn’t paradise be for clean and innocent souls rather than souls tainted with sin?”

I slumped back into my chair, blowing away the hair in my face. “You’re acting like you never sinned.” My voice was quiet but loud enough for him to hear.

Nothing added up. He had to be wrong. There’s no way he wasn’t. He acted and spoke like Ionia was full of sinless angels. That’s impossible. Even the most virtuous men have sinned. It’s completely impossible to live a life without sin.

Whatever, forget about sins and angels. It’s utterly irrelevant to the topics I wanted to discuss. I tried to focus on something else he said.

“You claim that the city isn’t the paradise that we label it to be. So then, what is it? Is it a normal, functioning city? I’ll take that any day over this hell.”

I didn’t notice at first, but his head was down, giggling away a laughter he so desperately tried to maintain.

Did I say something funny?

His giggles faded in a few seconds after noticing. The man finally threw words instead of laughter.

“I’ll tell you another secret, this time a bigger one.” He leaned his head again, “I’m in this SCAR armor because I’d sinned.”

I gulped as if I was at the end of chugging an entire jug of water. “Meaning?”

“I’ll spell it out for you. I’m a sinner. Simple as that. Do you actually believe there are no criminals in the city? We aren’t angels. We’re human, just like you outsiders.”

“What did you do?” My voice was dying like the candles in the room.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you? You went from questioning the city to questioning my personal life. Like I said, I’ve got nothing to lose. I'll tell you whatever you want to know regardless of... well... anything." He held his head low. "I… I killed my mother.”

I shook my head in disgust. “You sick bastard. You kill your mother? Who does such a thing?”

Still, with his head down, he said, “Ya… I’m a twisted person… I guess. I killed her in her own apartment. It was so dark. She must’ve felt so alone.” He sounded on the verge of tears. “But… I needed money… so I had to. I had no other choice.”

The leakage of salty tears swelled his eyes. His regrets voiced out, painting a puzzle. I wasn’t sure if he was a twisted person or a hopeless one. I didn’t know why, but I had the feeling that he never wanted to kill his mother.

But my focus wasn’t on his personal life, so I didn’t care to ask more. Instead, I had something bugging me in the back of my head.

“Why are sinners like you serving SCAR? Do sinners become SCAR agents? How does that work? It makes no sense to me.”

His slimy mucus sniffled back up into his nose. After revealing a wicked truth, he found the courage to look me in the eyes.

“No, not at all. It’s my punishment to be one. They were in the middle of some stupid research and needed someone to go to the outside world. They didn’t want to use one of their actual agents since there was a slight chance of survival, so they sent me. They granted me a second chance if I came back successful. To be honest with you, I would never willingly serve for that corrupt agency.”

The last part caught my attention more than anything else. “Corrupt? Meaning?"

“They are ruthless individuals. SCAR is just a power–craving shithole that deserves a horrific fate. They use fear to bend the government in their favor. Unspeakable things I don’t want to name. I don’t know much, but I can certainly say that SCAR controls Ionia.”

So, were Ionia’s government and SCAR separate? And SCAR controlled Ionia? It somewhat made sense how SCAR used fear on others. Apparently, way before me, they were heartless to the outsiders, wiping out them as if it were a sport. Massacres after massacres. Bodies on top of each other. The gagging stench of blood forced witnesses to vomit.

I forgot why they massacred outsiders. Maybe it was because they tried to make a statement. I had no clue. I just remembered how the guards used to tell those horrific stories to us.

But now, it wasn’t like that. SCAR agents rarely showed up, and when they did, they immediately retreated. There were always a few bad apples. Some SCAR agents went berserk, brutally murdering anyone they saw.

Just like that time.

If they showed that side to us, then I wouldn’t be surprised if they showed it to their own people.

So that’s what he meant by saying that Ionia wasn’t paradise. SCAR was the reason why.

So, for Ionia to be paradise…

I redirected the topic. “Ok, back to my original question,” I said, clapping my hands once, “How does one get past the wall? You had to do it, so you should remember the route they took you on.”

I was ready for an answer that my heart wanted to hear. However, my brain told me not to get my hopes up.

“Tsk, they rudely knocked me out. Next thing I knew, I was in this bulky shit–suit. I can tell ya this: The only people who know how to get into the city are Ionia’s ruling class.”

He looked at the slowly dying candle. It was on its last legs, slowly darkening the room.

Ionia’s ruling class? Could it be the actual government or SCAR? I was tempted to ask but didn’t. A normal person like him wouldn’t know.

“If you don’t mind, may I ask you a question?”

I jerked my head up, entirely stunned by his request. “Go ahead.”

“Are you going to do something with the information I generously gave you?”

I couldn’t help but crack a smirk. “So let me sum up the major points. SCAR is a power-hungry military that controls Ionia. So SCAR is the problem?”

I could tell he had no clue what I was trying to say. His forehead was crunched up like a wrinkled leaf.

“Hypothetically,” I said, “If outsiders and Ionians had the chance to live together, what would be the one thing that needs to happen?

His answer came within a blink of an eye, “SCAR’S annihilation.”

“If SCAR is destroyed, do you think outsiders and Ionians could live together peacefully?”

He looked at the dark ceiling. Sweat dripped from his chin and onto his armor. “It would be nice,” mumbled the once-Ionian civilian. With a crystal-clear voice this time, he said, “Outsiders could’ve lived with Ionia if it wasn’t for SCAR. They’re the ones who are keeping you segregated.”

Hearing an Ionian briefly talk about SCAR emptied me of hope. Raphtalia’s dream would be much harder to accomplish than I anticipated. Step one was already difficult enough. I had no way of knowing the path to get through the walls.

There was nothing left for the man. I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. What if he went and hurt the others? Hurt someone else? What if he returned to Ionia and told SCAR everything about me? About where I lived. That would put everyone in jeopardy.

I didn’t want to. What was this heavy feeling on my shoulder? It felt like I was carrying hundreds of lives. Images of the past flashed in my head. I didn’t want to be that person again. I promised myself not to revert to it. Doing this would remind me of who I once was.

But it’s for the sake of the people I adore. Their lives, my life, and my dreams could all disappear if I didn’t do this.

I got up and hesitantly grabbed a knife out of my back pocket. The man looked at me with empty eyes. He knew what was coming, and he deserved a quick goodbye.

I leaned into his ear and whispered, “Thank you.”

I let go of the knife which pierced through the man’s neck. His arms instinctively tried to move towards the wound but were rejected by the rope. Blood gushed down his neck and squirted out his mouth.

"De... ath."

I recognized that faint voice inside my head. I shook it off without giving it any thought.

The candles were out. How lonely must it be to die in a dark room? He and his mother both knew that answer.

Hearing him choke on his blood, I turned around, heading for the stairs. Halfway up, I stopped, saying, “Shit. How did I forget to ask for his name?” I scoffed at my carelessness and walked away from the scene.