It was all too strange. The longer Aman and Mei Lian stayed within the confines of the tent, the more surreal their reality began to feel.
They weren't chained. They weren't tortured. They weren't starved or beaten or dragged by the hair like some of the women they had seen or heard caged nearby. No, instead, they were here, inside one of their leader command a Major rank tent to be exact. The personal space of the very man whose photo they had found buried beneath the charred rubble of their village. The man they'd labeled as "Kodoha" in their minds, after the name scrawled on the back of that photograph.
It was a strange form of mercy. Not kindness. Certainly not safety. But... an allowance. A twisted sort of permission to breathe, to exist if only temporarily. They were scared, yes. But they were still alive, and in this place, that meant something.
There was relief in their fear. An instinctual relief that reminded them they still felt. That they were still human. Scared, unsure, clinging to what little remained of their dignity. It wasn't pain they feared. That would have been simpler, in some ways. It was the unknown that terrified them most. The ever changing rules of this grotesque game. The sense that their fates rested in the hands of a man who smiled too calmly, too easily, as the world burned around him.
The Major sat across from them, pipe in hand, as serene as a monk at prayer. He signed papers, scribbled notes maybe letters and occasionally exchanged glances with his massive Captain, who stood like a sentry by the entrance.
The Captain was a contradiction in every sense. Towering, broad-shouldered, with arms like steel beams, yet as submissive as a beaten dog. He seemed to flinch every time the Major looked at him, his eyes averting with reflexive obedience. The way he stood near the Major was almost pathetic. Not like a subordinate. More like... a pet. It was disturbing to witness.
Rank, Aman realized, meant everything here. It didn't matter how you looked, how strong or intelligent you were. If someone outranked you, you bowed. Even if you could crush them with your bare hands. Especially then.
"You want to ask something?" the Major said suddenly, his tone light, almost inviting.
Aman hesitated, then slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the faded, smoke-singed photograph. He unfolded it carefully and held it up for the Major to see.
"This is you, right?" he asked, voice firm but steady. "We called you Kodoha after we found this. It was in the ashes... the village your men burned."
The Major leaned forward, eyes scanning the image. His expression didn't change much, save for a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Ah. I thought I lost this one," he said with a chuckle. "Kodoha, huh? That's what you named me?"
"Yeah," Aman replied curtly. "That's what we called the ghost who led monsters."
Mei Lian, still lying on the hammock that the Major had made no attempt to take from her, added quietly, "It's kind of... comfortable here. Better than the cold dirt. Or a cage."
The Major chuckled again. It was a strange sound cheerful, but hollow. "Well, I didn't burn the village myself. My men did. But yes, I was in command. The responsibility is mine."
Aman stared at him. "So what is Kodoha?"
The Captain, who had remained still until now, stepped forward. "You got too much mouth for your face," he said in rough, broken English.
Aman blinked, surprised. "That's... kind of a weird way to say it."
The Major raised his hand, signaling the Captain to back off. "Easy, easy. He gets defensive sometimes. His English is still a work in progress."
The Captain immediately lowered his gaze, stepping back like a scolded puppy. It was painful to watch such strength, wasted in subservience.
"So?" Mei Lian leaned forward now, her curiosity outweighing her fear. "What was Kodoha? And what were the people in that photo doing?"
The Major sighed, as if asked to recount a story long buried but not forgotten. "It was simple, really. Just a mission. One single goal overthrow the government. We wanted to restore the Emperor to full power. Like the old days."
He gave a loud, bitter laugh. The Captain responded by patting his back gently, as if this was some sort of recurring joke between them.
"So... what happened?" Mei Lian asked, her voice low.
"The Emperor called us traitors," the Major said, still smiling. "Said our actions were invalid. Dangerous. He had the ringleaders executed. Me? I was imprisoned. For a while. Eventually, they let me out."
"Why?" Aman asked, his voice thick with disbelief. "Why would they release a man who tried to overthrow the state?"
The Major tapped the ashes from his pipe. "Because experience. I knew how to handle chaos. The coup failed, but not entirely. The military gained more influence. The government was weak full of corruption, backroom dealings, and silent knives. They needed people like me."
Aman scoffed. "So they let a traitor command an army?"
"Not an army," the Major corrected, eyes glinting with something dark. "A penal battalion. Criminals. Murderers. Rapists. The kind of men who don't belong in any society mine or yours."
He leaned back and smiled wider. "But I could control them. I ran the prison like a little empire. When the war started, they came to me. Gave me a leash and asked me to tame beasts."
"And you agreed?" Mei Lian asked, incredulous.
"Why not?" he replied. "I didn't care about the government. Didn't care about the Emperor. I just wanted to see where it all led."
Aman narrowed his eyes. "So all of this... all the death, the horror... for what? Curiosity?"
The Major's grin faded, replaced by something colder, heavier. "Do you believe everyone fights for ideals? For patriotism? Justice? Most fight for survival. Others... for the thrill. Me? I fight because I want to see what comes next."
He paused, as if trying to put something difficult into words.
"Kodoha, the faction yes, we had ideas. Big ones. About purging corruption, restoring traditions, rebuilding a decayed empire. But for me? It was just noise. I joined because it gave me a place. A role in the madness. The rest... I never cared."
Mei Lian's face twisted in confusion. "So you don't believe in anything?"
The Major's eyes sparkled, and his grin returned wider now, touched with something manic. "Belief? That's for priests and fools. I believe in watching what happens when the world breaks."
Aman felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The man wasn't just cold. He was detached completely severed from any moral tether. He wasn't driven by hatred or greed. He was driven by pure, nihilistic curiosity.
"They started a war with the West while our own people were starving," the Major continued. "Children drafted to die. Villages burned for logistics. Men like me handed monsters and told to make them march. And I said yes. Not because I believed. Because I wanted to see the end."
Silence settled in the tent like dust.
And then, slowly, he began to hum. The hum became a song quiet, low, and strangely melodic.
"Bekira no fuchi ni nami sawagi,
Fuzan no kumo wa midare tobu,
Kondaku no yo ni ware tateba,
Gifun ni moete chishio waku..."
"My blood simmered in righteous anger," he translated softly. "I wonder where this will take us next."
Aman and Mei Lian didn't respond. There was nothing left to say. They had seen brutality. They had witnessed death. But this was something else entirely.
This man wasn't fighting for a cause. He wasn't driven by hatred or ideology.
He was a spectator. A willing actor in a tragedy he didn't believe in, driven by the simple question: What happens next?
And somehow, that made him more terrifying than any fanatic.
They sat in silence, the Major's song fading into the background. It wasn't the worst story they had heard. It wasn't even the most violent. But it was the most chilling.
Because monsters kill for power. Fanatics kill for belief.
But this man? This man killed for the sake of watching history unfold.
And what do you say to a man like that?
You don't.
You just pray you're not in the next chapter he decides to write.