When my house was burning down, the bodies of the people I called my mother, father, and sister turning to ashes with the walls and furniture, I was there, looking at it with dead eyes. That was the last time I had felt any kind of strong emotions, I don't remember what though, and now I was numb. I felt nothing, not that day nor since. They had put a cloth around me so that I didn't panic, but I wasn't. I didn't even cry. It was like I had felt the most extreme emotions a human can, and now the scale was broken, like if there was a machine that made me feel things, it went beyond its limits and burst, and now I felt nothing.
That's when I met John Keller, the moustache man.
He wore a black pea coat with a fur collar. He was tall with messy hair and a moustache. He smoked a cigar.
His arrival caused chaos and noises among the people and media people gathered around the burning house with firefighters spraying their giant water guns and smoke guns at the house, even they turned their eyes to him. He was, apparently, important, followed by two muscular men in suits, his bodyguards. But I was too absorbed in myself to notice him.
I finally did when he came and sat beside me, heavily, and keeping his hand on my shoulder said, "I'm sorry."
I looked at him with dead eyes. There was no sorrow, nothing as a matter of fact. He removed his hand off my shoulder; he looked a bit taken aback from not finding me crying or trembling, being so calm and cold.
He stared at me for some time, there was apparently confusion on his face from what I saw, like he had prepared a script in his mind expecting me to react a certain way, but I threw it off. I turned my face away to nothingness, numb.
Getting no reaction from me he hesitated, and then just got up, turned to me and said, handing over his card, "Here, keep it with you." I didn't bother, didn't look, so he sighed and put the card in my pocket himself and then said, tapping my shoulder, "You will be fine..." and then hesitated, his lips quivering, and said "...for now." Not getting any response, he left.
I later found out he was some famous detective, genius as they call him. Some 100 cases solved in record-breaking time, he worked with the police and took care of crimes too complicated. I wondered what he was doing there that night, but never could figure it out so I stopped thinking about it. I didn't like remembering anything about that night anyway.
*
My phone rang, interrupting my train of thoughts.
I kept walking while picking up the phone, an unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Is this Ken Sudoko?" a young male voice.
"Who is this?"
"I am Henry Leen, I need to talk to you about something very important."
Henry Leen... I had heard that name somewhere.
I went and stood on the side of the road, leaning against a wall.
"Speak."
"We have reports that you have encountered Demed."
I shuddered at the sudden mention. What the hell did I get myself into? And more importantly, did this person know too? About my past?
"Keep going," I said, clearing my throat.
"I just wanted to ask you," said the voice, "did he give something to you?"
I was in a dilemma. Trust was something I had long lost the ability or interest in giving to someone. I don't trust anyone. But right now, the question was who do I trust less? The man who gave me an absurd instruction on a joker card, because he knew about my past and I have to do it to talk with him, assuming he sticks to his promise, hell I don't even know if he knows, but I can't risk, or the man who called me out of nowhere and talked about something only I could possibly know. Well, with my past on the line in the first one, I decided to distrust the latter, even though he might save me from the task.
"I can't say that," I said.
"Try to understand, we are trying to help you."
"I can't."
There was a huge sigh on the other side, then he said,
"Look, Ken. We know about your past... The things that happened to you... The things YOU DID. And we also know he is using it to make you move to his will."
I could feel my breaths tense and heart clench. I wasn't scared, I wasn't back when that Demed guy said it either, nothing scares me in this world. I was concerned because what follows the exposure of my past, if it happens, will be troublesome. And now I was starting to feel a bit frustrated. How are they knowing something I worked my best to keep hidden from the world? Not a single piece of evidence. All these years of silence and these people suddenly popping up, jeez.
And now, the weight of both sides was heavy, as they both knew about it. Both of them had some scheme, I don't buy the "trying to help" shit, but maybe, just maybe the other side will save me the hassle of kissing then killing Daisy, and dealing with what follows. I eat one meal a day, I hardly make ends meet, I don't have time or energy for this. So I took a gamble.
"Ok," I said heavily, "I will tell you."
"Thank you."
"He gave me a card, a joker card, and there was 'Kiss Daisy' written on it... Ah, Daisy is our store's other employee."
"Right," said the man on the other side and there was a long pause for a while. After that, he said, like a warning, "Ok, now listen. Do NOT perform the task. It will only pull you into a whirlpool which you cannot escape."
"What do I have to do?"
"Nothing," said the man, "just go with your life like you do."
"But—"
"You are worried about what he might do, he knows your deeds."
Oh, so he actually did, at least according to this person.
"Yes."
"Just tell me. What will he gain from exposing you?"
I didn't think about that. No one can gain anything solid from exposing me. Yes, I will go to jail and all, might get a sentence, and I will die and worse, suffer, but no one gains anything from that. I am a lowlife anyways, my absence won't make a hint of difference and even from a sadistic point of view, a person with more life than me will be a much more suitable victim. The only thing I could think about was revenge, but I had made sure back then itself that it doesn't happen. But then again, you never know what you might have slipped.
"Probably nothing," I said after some thinking, "but still..."
"I can assure you," said the man on the other side, "the things that will follow after you perform the task are far worse than what all you'll face with your past getting exposed."
"What?" I said, shocked. That was ridiculous, what could be worse than getting the things I have done exposed?
"Yes. Though I am sure Demed and the team will not expose your past, knowing him, just for your convenience, I will say even if he does, what follows—the jail and everything—while it might sound really bad at the start, are actually good in comparison to what you will face once you complete the task," said the man. "And in any case, even if your secrets do get exposed, I will protect you."
"You?"
"Search me up on Google."
I did. I knew I had heard this name somewhere, and I was right. There was the name, Henry Leen, and there was the picture, a lean man in his 40s, neat hair with silver sides, wearing glasses and a coat. And then there were the abouts, of who he was and why he was famous.
Henry Leen is a brilliant advocate known for winning most challenging and nationally famous cases, making his name in the media. His fame is backed by his sharp reasoning, persuasive arguments and a flawless lustrous track record. He is reputed as one of the smartest minds in law today.
I did not see that coming. I wasn't sure if he really was who he claimed to be but if he was then... I was frozen at a place, blank, my mind screaming once again what the hell did I get myself into?
"As you can see Ken, I am quite a good lawyer," he said. "If you hear an interview with my voice, you'll find it's the same as what you hear now."
"..."
"My point is," he paused and said, "I will say again I know they won't expose your past, but in case they do, I will fight your case, and I will make sure you come out with minimum damage."
"That too," he said, "completely free."
I had so many questions that my mind was going crazy, which wasn't like me. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down, taking in the whole situation.
One man in a hat calling himself Demed comes to me and tells me he knows about my past, gives me a task for further conversation and leaves. A big famous lawyer called me personally to not do the task and he will save me in case they expose my past, because doing it will get me into a messier shit.
"I have two questions," I said firmly after a while. "First, what did you mean when you said 'what follows after you do the task will be worse than getting your secrets exposed'? What will happen?"
I heard a huge sigh on the other side.
The lane had fallen silent, and the night was getting colder with every passing minute. My breaths had started to fog.
"If you perform the task," said the man on the other side heavily, "you will officially enter the Karma Game."