"Josie. Josie. Josie."
Her eyelids slowly opened, following the gentle rhythm of the call. The world that had been blurry began to take shape again, lines of light and sounds that seemed to come from afar becoming clearer in her ears. She blinked slowly, trying to adjust her eyes to the soft light that seeped into her retinas.
"Josie. Can you hear me?"
The voice sounded again, quieter but full of urgency, welcoming her now fully gathered consciousness. The world that had felt like a fragment of a dream began to come together, forming real lines around her. Once again she blinked, then turned her head in the direction of the voice. And there stood Elsie, her eyes tense but gentle.
"Els ...!" Joy surged in Josie's heart, making her reflexively get up and want to hug her sister. But before the hug could happen, Elsie stopped her. Elsie held Josie's shoulders, who was only fifteen years old at the time. Her gaze was still urgent, as if asking Josie to give her full attention to the words she was about to say.
"Josie, from now on, listen to me carefully," said Elsie, her voice filled with urgency but still maintaining a forced calm. "There is something you must do, something that cannot be delayed any longer."
Josie frowned, her heart beginning to beat faster. The candlelight in the corner of the room swayed gently, creating shadows that danced across Elsie's face, strangely making her look older than her age.
"We don't have much time," she said, taking a deep breath. "You must leave here. Take Kat and Rae with you."
As if sensing that something was wrong, Josie quickly asked, "Then what about you?"
Elsie's hazel eyes, which usually radiated calm, now looked restless, like a lake buffeted by strong winds. Her gaze trembled slightly. Once again, she took a deep breath, trying to hold back the emotions that threatened to overflow.
"I'll be fine, Jo," said Elsie, though not entirely convincing. "But you ... you have to go now. Take Kat and Rae with you."
Josie shook her head vigorously, her eyebrows furrowed, her lips ready to protest. However, before a single word could escape, Elsie cut her off sharply. "Don't argue, Jo! And you mustn't cry now. If you cry, Rae will cry too and Kat will be confused."
"Bu-but I ...."
"It's okay, Jo," she said, trying to calm her sister, who looked so frightened. "We'll all be fine. All you have to do is go and take Kat and Rae with you. Then find a man named Leon Everhart."
"Leon?"
Elsie nodded, the corners of her lips curving slightly. "Yes, you must remember him. The man who was always with Dad, who always made you jealous because you felt he was stealing Dad's attention from you. The one who came to see Mum a while ago. And the one who always slipped a storybook into your hands every time he visited."
Josie held her breath, her head nodding quickly as the image of the man appeared in her mind.
"Go, Jo. Find him." Elsie urged, her hand gripping Josie's arm as if trying to instil courage through touch. "As long as Leon is here, we'll be fine. Now, go and find Leon Everhart."
DEG!
Josie jolted awake from the nightmare she had long buried. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to leap out of her chest. The shadows of that dream, which she had tried to bury in the darkness of the past, crept back like smoke that refused to dissipate. She blinked several times, trying to take in the world around her, but darkness still enveloped her.
Five seconds passed before reality hit her like a bucket of cold water. Slowly, she realised that she was now in a strange place, perhaps a basement or something similar. Her hands were tied behind a chair, rough rope digging into her wrists until her skin stung. Her legs were pinned down, unable to move, and worst of all, a blindfold pressed against her eyelids, blocking her vision.
Oh, no. No, no! His mind raced wildly. How did I end up here? Kidnapping? A restoration group? Or thieves after the royalties from my books?
Panic gripped her chest, chasing her breath like an alarm that couldn't be turned off. She struggled, exerting all her strength until the wooden chair beneath her shook and creaked loudly. It was useless because the ropes binding her hands and feet were so strong that every movement caused her wrists to hurt.
Damn it!
There was no way to escape. Not a single ray of light. No clues, only suffocating darkness and a deafening silence in her ears.
Her hearing faintly picked up the sound of footsteps approaching. Josie held her breath, her hearing sharpening as she tried to determine how many people were entering from the sound of the footsteps.
One? Two? Or maybe three people?
DEG!
DEG!
DEG!
Josie's breathing quickened, like a bird trapped in a golden cage. Her body shivered with fear and cold sweat now ran down her back, soaking into her sticky clothes.
What would they do to her?
The door hinges creaked sharply. Josie's back tensed instantly, her muscles stiffening as if she wanted to escape from her own body. The footsteps were getting closer and closer, full of intent, and she knew—without needing to look—that they were not bearers of good news.
What kidnapping ever brought good? she thought, half cynical, half fearful.
"Put her under surveillance!" ordered someone with a deep, cold baritone voice.
Josie held her breath, trying to identify her captor based on the man's voice. She racked her brain, searching for a name or a face that matched, but her mind was blank, filled only with the pounding of her own heart.
"Name?" the voice sounded again. Flatter and demanding an answer.
Josie's body tensed under the absolute command. Without needing to find out more, Josie now understood her situation: she was undergoing an interrogation like a high-profile criminal in a mystery novel. Still, she had no intention of giving the kidnapper an easy answer. Her mouth was tightly shut and impossible to open, except of her own volition or by force.
"Name." This time the voice sounded sharper, rougher, and was accompanied by light pressure on her chest—the tip of a hard object, perhaps a stick or a rifle, pressing hard enough to make her gasp for breath. It didn't hurt, but the threat felt like a knife peeking out from behind the cloth covering her eyes.
"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" Josie finally shouted, her voice breaking, choked by the panic gripping her throat. "I'M JUST A SMALL WRITER! I'M NOT A RICH NOBLE."
"Name," the man repeated, emphasising his question without regard for her screams.
Josie swallowed, anger and despair mingling in her chest. "Josie Everhart!" she shouted, half angry, half panicked. "Just a small-time writer, sir! Not the wealthy aristocrat you think I am. If you dare to open my blindfold, you might recognise my face from the notice board at Ed's bookshop—a loyal customer, photo near the entrance!"
But the man remained unmoved. He paid no attention to her words.
"Age," he asked, his tone unchanged, as if Josie's words were nothing but the wind.
Josie resisted the urge to curse, her teeth chattering. "Twenty-six years old."
"Occupation?"
"Writer! Novelist!" She almost shouted as anger welled up in her chest. "Not a traitor to the country, if that's what you think! Not a wealthy aristocrat either."
Her words came out boldly, even though inside she felt like a mouse trapped in a trap.
For goodness' sake, I'm not a high-profile fugitive! Why has everything turned out like this?
"You've often been seen observing Major General Raymond's movements," accused the baritone voice, thick with suspicion.
Who did he say it was? Major General Raymond? The name hit Josie like a sledgehammer, triggering a flash of memory that made everything clear now. The pieces of the puzzle now fell neatly into place. From his stalking her at The Blue Quill to the unfamiliar footsteps following her on her way home. All because she had observed Major General Raymond.
But why was that a problem?! Her mind raced in panic, her heart pounding. I only took notes because he was intriguing! Because he was perfect for the main character in my novel!
Another set of footsteps echoed throughout the room, different from the baritone-voiced man's rhythm. Josie, who had memorised every little detail about Major General Raymond—from the way he walked to the pauses in his breathing—didn't need to look to know who the echoing footsteps belonged to.
Yes, it was definitely Atlas Raymond.
A cold air seemed to emanate from him, like snow creeping through the air, enveloping the room with an almost palpable intensity. Even though the blindfold blocked her vision, Josie could still feel his presence. Firm, cold, and radiating an aura that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
"Tell me who sent you," demanded Elias, Major General Raymond's aide, the owner of the baritone voice.
"No one!" Josie shouted, her voice higher than she intended, breaking at the end in panic. "By my golden pen, no one! I don't even know any politicians! I'm just a small-time writer!"
There was no reply, no reaction. Josie almost thought they had left, but then the tip of a hard object—a cane, perhaps—pressed against her chest even harder than before.
Elias glanced at Atlas, who stood silently behind him. The Major General hadn't said a word since entering the room, but his mere presence was enough to make Josie feel like the floor beneath her was about to collapse.
"Then why do you record his activities almost every day?" Elias continued, his voice creeping into Josie's ears. "In the park, in the bookshop, even on Bluebill's main street?"
"Because," Josie exhaled roughly, "because he is my source of inspiration! For the main character in the novel I'm writing!"
Elias narrowed his eyes, his face showing a mixture of suspicion and confusion. Behind him, Atlas Raymond remained silent, his eyes fixed on Josie, as if his gaze could pierce right through to the depths of her heart.
"A novel?" Elias repeated the word in a condescending tone, his lips curving into a cynical smile. "You think I'd believe such an absurd excuse?"
"No one's asking you to believe it!" Josie snorted indignantly, her voice full of courage even though her heart was pounding. However, she had barely finished speaking when Elias swung the cane in his hand, the tip pressing against Josie's chest with enough force to make her flinch. It was as if he was telling her not to act so brave.
But for God's sake, who was acting brave? She was just defending herself!
"I'm not lying, really!" Josie exclaimed, her voice trembling between panic and anger while cold sweat dampened her palms. "If you don't believe me, ask Ed at The Blue Quill or Old Doyle, the painter in the next alley! I'm not a rebel, nor a spy, let alone part of that cursed group! I'm just a writer! I'm recording the Mayor's movements because he's the inspiration for my fictional character!"
"Then why didn't you come and ask for permission?"
Josie's breath caught in her throat, as if the thin thread in her throat was about to break. Atlas, who had been silent like a shadow in the corner, finally spoke up.
"Why didn't you come and ask for permission?" the man asked for the second time.
Josie's body stiffened, her muscles rigid as if struck by electricity. Her mouth opened slightly, but the words froze on the tip of her tongue, trapped in Atlas's gaze, which seemed to penetrate the cloth covering his eyes.
To be honest, her heart was now beating so fast it almost hurt her ribs just from hearing his voice. Even with her eyes covered, the image of the man appeared clearly and in greater detail in her mind. His upright posture was like a sword ready to be drawn, his broad shoulders supporting his medal-adorned military uniform, and the slight smile that always peeked at the corners of his lips. Then his voice echoed so deeply, as if every word was soaked in honey and smoke, tickling her eardrums and creeping up her spine.
Strange. The previous man also had a baritone voice, but it never made her blood boil or her skin tingle. Meanwhile, Major General Raymond's voice? She could drown in every note, as if hypnotised by the sound of a cello in the middle of a quiet night.
Josie suddenly fell silent, her mind now spinning chaotically. Permission? Permission?! Since when did a writer have to ask for permission from the real person who inspired their character, especially someone as formidable and intimidating as Major General Raymond? She quickly swallowed, feeling cold sweat trickle down her back as she felt Atlas's sharp gaze stripping her bare.
But wait a minute. Didn't she always ask permission from the people who inspired her writing? The fruit seller at the market, the old neighbour who loved to tell stories, even the café waitress who always smiled shyly—he approached them all politely, asking for their consent before making them part of his story. But for some reason, Josie chose to quietly observe the General, noting his every move without asking for permission.
Could it be that she was now on trial for her courage, or more accurately, her carelessness?
Josie shook her head slowly, trying to dismiss the thought. Impossible, her heart refused to believe it. After all, it was just writing a novel, not a serious crime! But under Atlas's unblinking gaze and the pressure of Elias's long cane still felt on her chest, her confidence began to waver.
"Because how could I possibly walk up to Major General Raymond and say, 'Hello, may I make you the main character in my romance novel?'" Josie spat out the words, between her anger and her sobs, which she tried to hold back. Her cheeks felt hot, tears threatening to spill, but she tried to hold back, staring at Atlas with her chin raised defiantly, even though she couldn't actually see the man now.
Atlas stared at her in an eerie silence. There was no scorn on his face, nor a flash of anger in his eyes. However, there was not a hint of warmth there either. Only a blank stare that made anyone who looked at him shiver, as if he were being stripped bare to his deepest secrets.
"Remove her blindfold," he ordered his aide.
Elias nodded, stepping closer with a rough movement and snatching the cloth covering Josie's eyes. The light from the basement immediately stung her eyes, forcing Josie to squint, her eyelids fluttering to block out the glare. But as soon as her vision adjusted, her eyes widened in shock. Standing before her was a man in military uniform, his body towering and imposing like a monolith carved from stone.
Major General Raymond. His face was cold, his jaw firm, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—stared at Josie with an intensity that made her feel like an open book being read page by page. There was not a shred of trust in that gaze, only a cold observation that seemed to uncover every secret in Josie's heart, weighing whether she deserved a chance or merciless punishment.