silver

Phuc Dao
Phuc Dao
Aug 23, 2017 · 6 min read
Source: DeviantArt

The young man could feel something rustling behind the smell of the cloth and his own breath. He could hear his heartbeats accelerating. Someone was moving a chair around and a door was shut gently. At long last, somebody pulled the cover and he could see the familiar room.

In front of him sat Harry. Or Mr Silver as they all called him.

The young man took a quick glance to evaluate his situation. He was in one of Mr Silver’s study room. There was just enough neon light to see the framed pictures of his favourite characters on the wall — Tony Montana, Jules Winnfield, Harry from “In Bruges” and many more. Each of them carried a unique value embedded in their stories. The room had a faint scent of blood and cigarette. The young man was completely untied but any means of escape was out of the question with the two guardsmen at the doors. Acknowledging his dire predicament, he faced the last person he’d want to at this moment.

Mr Silver had his elbows on the wooden table. His fingertips met each other, forming a roof before him. He was looking at the young man without a blink as if he was studying an abstract painting. For an uncomfortable amount of time, it felt like the entire room was frozen. The young man knew best not to make any move or utter the faintest sound. Mr Silver always had the first word. Besides, he had a vague idea what Mr Silver was going to ask.

“You know why you are here, Mason.” Mr Silver spoke matter-of-factly.

“Yes Mr Silver. I know why I’m here, “ Mason replied as if it was an oral English exams. Mr Silver had always wanted clear and full answers no matter how simple the question.

“A man of your intelligence should be able to infer what I’m going to do next, “ Mr Silver continued, “ so I’ll make this quick.”

Mason held his breath for what he was sure to come.

“I know about the plan, but I’m not going to bother with details. A man too preoccupied with trivia will never grow to greatness. All I care about is, who is at the top?” Mr Silver’s voice was flat but firm. He sounded almost bored but the weight of the words pinned Mason to the chair like boulders under water.

The room fell back into silence. All Mason needed to do was to utter that one name in his head right now and everything would be over. Mr Silver remained motionless but Mason knew his patience wouldn’t last forever. He could feel those shrewd eyes searching the corner of his soul for the answer. Mason felt like even if he didn’t say a word, Mr Silver was bound to find out the answer through his incessant stare soon. He weighed his options and both seemed to lead to a dead-end sooner or later.

“I’m going to keep this simple, “ Mr Silver suddenly broke the eerie silence, “ You have two options: Either you die without telling me the name, or you die after telling me.”

“That totally sounds like two fucking options there, “ Mason thought to himself. The name kept dancing in his head, clouding his attempt to come up with a less impossible solution.

“I can’t, “ Mason replied, eyes on Mr Silver’s elbows.

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I can’t, and I won’t, “ Mason slowly looked up to meet Mr Silver’s gaze.

Above the fingertips, the solemn man caught the young man’s eyes. They were apologetic yet resolute. He knew the young man had the answer but he also understood that slightly trembling soul would never utter a word more. Mr Silver had had his answer.

“You’ve worked hard for me, truthfully and selflessly. It’s a shame I can’t have your service anymore. But I’ll grant you one last choice. I’ll let you choose how we will send you to the Netherworld along with that name in your head.”

That “choice” came unexpectedly. Mason wasn’t sure if it were good news or bad but he felt a little better knowing how he’d die. He gave it some consideration while Mr Silver seemed to be lost in thought with his eyes closed.

“That knife you always keep so carefully. What’s so special about it? I want to be killed with my blood on it.” Mason replied with a question instead.

“That’s a very tall order there, “ Mr Silver signalled the two guards to leave the room. He continued once the doors were shut, “ I took the very first life with it. I lived next to this neighbour who used to beat his wife up. One day I was going home from school when I caught him holding his wife up by the hair and slapping her. She was almost naked and I could see scars everywhere. That day I had enough and went straight to the kitchen to grab that knife. From behind I slit that throat in one clean slide. Everything felt natural to me. The motion, the blood spurting out, the man’s eyes before he died in agony, the wife’s shocked face. I had heard about how people often tremble in shock after committing such an atrocious crime. I didn’t. That day I quietly went back to my room, washed up, took some money and clothes and left with the knife in my bag.”

“You see, that knife was the very thing that cut me from my old life. I never saw my family again. I kept that knife not as gratification for my first kill but to remind myself of the price I had to pay to enter this path. It cut me free from everything I used to have so I could do what I have to do. There are rotten people and those people need to be cut down. And somebody has to do the dirty job. Somebody…”

Mr Silver’s voice slowed down, almost reminiscing and melancholic. The room was quiet again. At this very moment, Mason realized he actually had a chance now to fight off the big boss and attempt to escape. His chance was slim but it was better than fighting the two huge guardsmen.

Suddenly, Mr Silver took out the old knife from his coat’s pocket. There were some stains of dry blood on it.

“I’ll make it quick, “ his voice spread gently around the empty room like a puff of cigarette smoke.

Mason knew if he were to fight, now would be the time. Yet his mind couldn’t switch to the fight or flight mode. He watched as Mr Silver moved behind him and placed the sharp edge right on the neck. His pulsing artery could feel the cold knife. Mason closed his eyes, trying to think of someone to miss. Mr Silver moved the knife to the left like he was about to play a violin’s note.

“Good job, Mason. You are one of us now. And do not ever tell anybody about what I told you in this room.”

Mason opened his eyes. Finally regaining his mind, he came to realize that it was all a test to see if he’d rat out a comrade.

“Was the coup plan real, though? “ Mason considered asking the big boss the curious question.

“The whole thing was a set-up, “ Mr Silver preempted his question, “ Ken would never betray me. Not in this life. Or the next.”

Mr Silver stood up and left the room as silently as he had entered, leaving Mason alone to recollect his thought. The small cut on his throat had dried up. Finally, when he had mustered enough strength on his legs, Mason stood up to leave the room. A humongous weight had been lifted off his shoulder. What was left floating in his now lightened heart was the face he was trying to think of before Mr Silver was about to slice his throat.

There was no one.

t/p

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