A few hours passed, and Felicia was still in the chapel. The sun had set long ago, and the only sources of light were the candles outside and the stars in the sky, visible through the wide hole in the chapel's roof. Felicia was deep in thought, surging with rage and anger.
"If I did it while he's asleep… I might be able to pull it off," he said, as his rage boiled. His face was red, veins bulging, and his eyes were empty of reason.
"Yeah, I'll kill him tonight," he said with a sinister smile—just before he was interrupted by Shu and Eva, momentarily snapping him back to his senses. But still, the anger raged on within him.
"There you are—we've been looking all over for you," Shu said as he slowly approached, but stopped, feeling the bloodlust emanating from Felicia. Meanwhile, Cleo stood at the back of the dusty pews, quietly observing.
"W-We brought you some leftover food," Eva said, setting a plate of bread beside him. "We also brought some beer… although Shu drank half of it," she added in a whisper.
Felicia remained unresponsive to the gesture.
"Hey… we're sorry about the kid," Shu said. But Felicia remained unresponsive. Shu took a deep breath, and after a few seconds of silence, he said— "We're planning to escape, and we want you to come with us!"
Shu, though subtle about it, realized he had grabbed Felicia's attention and continued,
"We're sick and tired of it all! All this crap! They'll just keep using us until we die!"
Shu grabbed the bottle of beer and took a swig before continuing.
"Our lives don't matter anymore! To them, we're just cogs in the machine—fueling their profits because huntsman services are in high demand! And when we die, they'll just find another innocent family to replace us!" Shu said, his voice burning with rage.
"He's right," Eva added. "Cleo and Shu could easily overpower the mercenaries and steal one of the vehicles. We've got a plan, and we've got the route—we just need a few more people for the job!"
"And then what? What do you plan to accomplish when you get there?" Felicia said, not turning to face them. "You'll either turn into a Decadent during the trip, or get executed by the capital soldiers—if you even make it that far."
Shu and Eva fell silent, until Cleo stepped in.
"I'm the one who planned it," he said plainly, "and I'll be blunt—"
"We're not planning to turn back. Our goal isn't to live—it's to deliver this," Cleo said, revealing a tonic. "I didn't use mine—neither did Shu or Eva. We plan to deliver it to the nearest capital, have them reverse-engineer the tonic, and expose Liba's entire operation."
"We've been planning this for a month now," Shu added. "The hardest part is smuggling the tonic."
"So, Felicia… do you want to take revenge on Liba or not?" Cleo asked.
"Who else is joining?" Felicia replied.
Cleo was silent for a few seconds. He took a deep breath before answering,
"Us… and Deborah."
Felicia stood still for a moment. Then it clicked.
He stormed toward Cleo, each step heavy with fury. Without warning, he grabbed Cleo by the neck and slammed him against the wall, his hand tightening with rage.
"YOU!"
Shu stepped forward to intervene, but Cleo raised a hand, signaling him to stop.
"This is why I hate aristocrats and politicians," Felicia snarled. "You! You took advantage of her grief to drag her into your suicide mission! For what?!"
His fury surged, and the wall behind Cleo began to crack under the pressure of Felicia's rage-filled grip.
Cleo gritted his teeth, grabbed Felicia's arm, and squeezed back.
"FOR INSURANCE!"
Felicia shoved Cleo harder against the wall.
"LIBA COULD EASILY KILL US WITH THE MERCENARIES' HELP! I'D BE WILLING TO SACRIFICE… MY LIFE TO HOLD HIM BACK—TO MAKE THEIR ESCAPE EASIER!"
He understood Cleo's reasoning, but he couldn't come to terms with the fact that Cleo had tried to manipulate them into joining.
Felicia took a deep breath, his thoughts racing.
He's right… His methods piss me off, but… I see why he needs more people. They're up against Liba, after all…
He finally released Cleo.
"I'm in," Felicia said, voice low but firm. "But please… don't let Deborah go."
"Like I said—I need insurance. We can't fail!" Cleo said.
"I'll distract him… I'll distract Liba for as long as possible," Felicia responded. "That way, you'll have enough time to get to the vehicles."
Cleo hesitated for a moment, but after seeing the resolve in Felicia's eyes, he finally nodded.
"Alright. We'll talk tomorrow morning before dawn—in Eva's room. Make sure no one sees you."
With that, the three of them left, leaving Felicia alone in the chapel.
Meanwhile, the rest of the laborers were inside a makeshift tavern, with bottles and bottles of beer provided by the mercenaries, as well as some meat for them to cook in exchange for the day's work. The tavern itself was just another crumbling house, redecorated with cloth and wood to cover the small holes and the broken roof—materials taken from other ruined houses.
The tavern was a patchwork of ornaments and baubles put together by the laborers, some of whom were already deceased, but their decorations remained to commemorate them. There were paintings, photographs, and toys hung up or placed on shelves. There were even odd items, like a Five hundred page script written by one of the deceased laborers about a man so smart he could catch a bullet with his hand, or a wooden plank nailed next to a painting by another deceased laborer, who claimed it was his favorite "plank."
The laborers were drinking and singing their hearts out. Peeros, with his weak tolerance for alcohol, was already asleep on the floor like a baby. Vina, on the other hand, was slumped over the table—head down and motionless, as even the slightest movement might make her puke.
The older laborers, like Arma and Igba, were well into their fifth round.
Nula, however, sat outside on a bench, staring up at the night sky. The stars were bright that evening, with no clouds in sight. He spotted a half-burnt cigarette on the ground, picked it up, and lit it. A single puff was enough to burn it down to the end.
"Yuck," Nula heard from behind him.
It was Shise, her white tank top stained with soy sauce and beer from dinner. She stepped up beside him, gazing at the night sky. Only she and Vina ever really approached Nula.
Shise, due to certain circumstances, had been Nula's first partner during the hunts. That was why she wasn't as distant with him as the others. Vina, on the other hand—well, she simply lacked any sense of self-preservation, always charging headfirst into danger without a second thought.
Shise was from the Far East and had once worked as a courier for trade routes between the capitals. That was before bandits attacked her caravan and sold her into slavery. She'd remained quiet—likely because of the language barrier, especially since she was sold to lands far from her own.
There was a time when humanity shared a single common language. But when the miasma forced them into isolation, each region began to evolve at its own pace. Culture shifted, transformed. Languages diverged. Some capitals thrived and advanced; others stagnated. And within a few decades, people had become strangers to one another—culturally, linguistically, and ideologically.
Shise held out a bottle of liquor.
"Uh... Uhm... Inom... uhh, fuck... shet... mmmm…" she mumbled, wearing a confused expression as she struggled to recall the correct word.
"Drink! Do you want to drink?" she finally exclaimed.
Nula nodded, happily obliging.
The language gap between them sometimes made things a little awkward, but Shise always tried to make conversation anyway. Most of the time, it ended in small talk until one of them awkwardly excused themselves. Still, Nula enjoyed her company, even if he wasn't very vocal about it.
He often wondered if she knew what he was like back in the capital—if the others had told her. Or maybe she just hadn't understood them.
At this point, he was too afraid to ask. It was easier to let things be.
After all, these people didn't mean anything to him… and he didn't mean anything to them.