I couldn't find my uniform anywhere. Then I remembered why.
It had been completely soaked by the rain last night, and considering the state I had been in, I wouldn't be surprised if it was still lying somewhere, torn and miserable.
So, I had no choice but to wear my own clothes.
I put on a plain black shirt and a pair of loose blue jeans.
While changing, I had completely forgotten about how sore my body was. Mostly because a far more terrifying thought had taken over my mind.
What if the general gives me more laps?
My legs would probably die just from hearing the number. I quickly got dressed and headed outside. Well, quickly might be an exaggeration.
My intention was quick. My body, unfortunately, had other plans.
I was walking painfully slowly, not because I was afraid of hurting my wounds, but because I simply couldn't walk properly. Every few steps felt like my legs needed a moment to reconsider their life choices.
By the time I reached the training grounds, a whole twenty minutes had passed.
A few people were practicing archery while the rest were doing push-ups. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business. Or at least, they had been.
The moment I arrived, heads started turning in my direction. Now what had I done?
The back of my mind told me to ignore them. So, for once, I listened to it.
I made my way directly toward the instructor, nearly stumbling a few times along the way.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come late. I just didn't..."
The instructor smiled. Why was he smiling?
I was definitely doomed.
"It's okay," he said. "You should have rested. The General told us everything."
My mind immediately froze.
Everything? What did he mean by everything?
I was freaking out internally. What exactly had the general told them? Was that why everyone had been looking at me so strangely?
"Um... what did he say?" I managed to ask.
"He told us that you had completed your punishment."
I stared at him. "Just that?"
"Yes, just that." He looked slightly confused. "Was there anything else?"
"No. Nothing."
Why wasn't he telling anyone about me?
"You don't look very happy about it."
The instructor took a step back, leaving me to decide what I wanted to do next.
Happy?
I was extremely happy about that. But obviously, I couldn't say it.
"Why should I be happy? After all, it was a punishment."
I gave him a small smile before turning to get myself a bow.
My speed at that point could easily be compared to a crawling baby.
I was genuinely tired of moving this slowly, but what could I do? My body simply refused to cooperate. Walking like this was completely against my style.
Then I heard it.
The sound of boots approaching.
Oh no.
Why was he coming in my direction? Think!!
I immediately looked away. Please don't come here. You've already bothered me enough last night.
"Why are you here?"
I looked at him.
Why can't I be here? What kind of question was that?
"Who told you to come?" he asked.
Yet another question I didn't understand.
"Shouldn't I be here?"
Why did he look angry? Seriously, what had I done this time?
The general answered in that particular commanding tone, the one usually reserved for when the other trainees were around.
"Go back to your room. You are not needed here."
What?
And more importantly, why?
I gave him my most confused expression, which clearly meant, Please elaborate.
"You need to rest. Your body is not in any condition to be doing this. Now go. Consider today your day off."
A sigh followed.
Well.
I was really happy.
Only on the inside, of course. There was no way I was going to let him see how pleased I was. My body was in this condition because of him in the first place.
I handed the bow back to the instructor, turned around, and began my painfully slow journey back to my room.
I hadn't even made it halfway.
Suddenly, someone lifted me off the ground.
"You're walking too slowly."
His grip tightened around my legs as he picked me up.
And that was my fault?
Why did it have to be him?
The more I tried to avoid this guy, the more I somehow ended up with him.
The entire way back to my room, I didn't even raise my head to look at him. I couldn't think of a single thing to say.
What was I even supposed to talk about?
He opened the door, carried me inside, and carefully placed me on the bed.
"I'll get you some breakfast. I mean, lunch."
And with that, he left.
Please don't come back.
Actually, I needed him to stay away for a while.
The moment he left, I reached for my phone, which I had left inside the drawer, and called home. I needed to hear him.
As soon as the connection went through, I spoke.
"Aunt May, how are you doing? It's Rosen."
From the other side came a very unamused laugh.
The actual Rosen.
"Ha. Ha."
Looks like he wasn't buying the joke.
Honestly, neither was I in the mood for joking. He still hadn't explained why his voice had sounded strange the last time we spoke.
"Last time we talked, I asked about your health. I clearly remember that your voice didn't sound right. Now tell me, how are you?"
Silence.
Of course.
I had to try again.
My brother never gave in easily.
"Tell me."
"Forget about it." I heard him sigh from the other side.
Why was he testing my patience when he already knew I wasn't exactly known for having a calm constitution?
"Tell me, or have you forgotten about my threat? If you don't remember, let me remind you. I said I won't call again."
Come on. Just tell me already. At this point, something other than my patience was also being tested, though I wasn't entirely sure what.
Probably nothing.
Then I heard it.
Cough.
He never missed an opportunity to scare me.
"Okay," he finally said. "I have a slight fever. It's getting better now, though. Let's end the call."
Of course he wanted to end the call.
Most likely because he didn't want to reveal anything else.
Knowing about the fever was apparently more than enough information for me.
"Really?"
Rosen sighed again, clearly hoping I would just stop.
"Yes. Really."
Fine.
Change of topic.
I was letting him off for now because I wasn't there to personally deal with him.
"Do you miss me?"
There was a brief pause.
He must have been surprised by the sudden change of topic. Then again, he knew I changed topics the way other people changed clothes.
"You wouldn't believe me if I said no, so what's the point in asking, Rose?"
I smiled.
I knew how much my brother appreciated me.
"I love you. Please take care of yourself."
"I love you too." His response, as always, made me want to be better for him.
"Bye."
I quickly ended the call.
Not because I wanted to.
The general was standing at the doorframe.
And judging by the timing, he had probably heard at least some of the conversation.
I'll pretend I didn't see him.
Act naturally.
He walked inside with a plate full of food and placed it on the bed in front of me.
The moment I looked at it, my mouth practically started producing enough saliva to embarrass me.
Thankfully, my stomach didn't rumble in its usual dramatic fashion.
At least it saved me from losing the little dignity I had left in front of the General.
"Who was on the phone?" he asked.
Why do you care?
"My aunt."
"Really?" One of his eyebrows rose slowly.
"Yes."
Why did it feel as though he was suspicious of me?
I needed to change the subject before this turned into another interrogation. Every conversation with this man somehow ended with me sitting in the witness box.
"Wow. You brought me food. Thanks."
No thanks.
"Are we going to share?"
I wasn't sure whether that was my politeness speaking or my embarrassment trying to cover itself up.
"No."
Such a straightforward answer.
Good.
I didn't think much about it and lowered my head, starting to eat. Honestly, I had wanted him to say no. Sharing food meant sitting here with him for longer, and I was already having enough difficulty existing in the same room as him.
I hated this. I still couldn't look him in the eyes.
Should I ask him about last night?
I needed to know. At least then I could stop creating a hundred different theories in my head.
After gathering what little courage I had left, I finally spoke.
"Was it you... um... last night?"
Say it properly, Rose.
"Yes."
A sigh of relief escaped me.
Wait. If it was him, then... He must have changed my clothes.
My relief immediately packed its bags and left.
Just thinking about it made my face heat up.
Maybe I had changed them myself. Please let it be that.
"Did you... um... change my...?"
I couldn't even finish the sentence. I could already feel a certain color creeping onto my face, and I absolutely refused to look up at him.
"Yes, I did."
My mouth fell open.
My sanity had officially resigned.
"Now that you've brought up this topic," he said calmly, "I need to ask you a few questions. Are you willing to answer them?"
Gulp.
Why did our conversations always turn into a question-and-answer session?
He had asked whether I was willing, and I clearly wasn't.
So, logically, he wouldn't ask. Right?
"As you're never willing, I'll just start asking."
Wait. What? What happened to my willingness?
He started immediately.
"What's your name? What is your relationship with the Nightingale family? How old are you? You don't even look twenty. And why are there so many scars on your body?"
Every single question felt like a bomb being dropped directly into my lap.
Especially the last one.
He had seen everything.
"If you don't want me telling anyone about you," he continued, "then at least answer two questions."
Wow.
Rose Nightingale, who had always had the upper hand when it came to blackmailing other people, was now being blackmailed herself.
And I couldn't do anything about it.
What a twist.
I mentally looked over my options.
It felt like I was sitting in an examination hall, answering a paper that had been prepared entirely from outside the syllabus.
Not that I had ever sat in an actual examination. I had been homeschooled.
But I imagined this was how unlucky students felt.
My name?
Absolutely not.
My relationship with the Nightingale family?
Even more impossible.
My age didn't seem particularly dangerous.
And as for the scars...
Well, I could tell him about those. They wouldn't be of much use to him anyway.
He suddenly snapped his fingers in front of my face.
I blinked and looked at him.
"I can tell just by looking at you that you're not the kind of person who likes being ordered around. Or blackmailed. Am I right?"
One hundred percent!
Which also meant that he should seriously reconsider doing either of those things.
"So?" he asked. "Have you decided?"
He sat down beside me. And there it was. That evil smirk.
He looked as if he had been waiting his entire life for this moment.
"I... um... can tell you my age and why I have these scars."
The general sighed.
"Still not your name."
Only a few people knew my real name. Even in my own district, hardly anyone knew that a girl named Rose existed in the Nightingale family.
"Fine," he said. "How old are you?"
"I turned eighteen this year."
I answered without giving it much thought.
"You're eighteen." He paused. "Hm. You're five years younger than me."
So?
What exactly was I supposed to do with that information?
So what if I was five years younger than him? It wasn't a big deal.
"Please finish your lunch."
He pushed the plate slightly closer to me. So, he had finally noticed the food.
"You don't need to tell me. I'm already full."
After having no lunch, no dinner, and not even breakfast this morning, I was obviously completely full.
"I don't have an appetite anymore."
"Wow. You lose your appetite pretty quickly." He quirked.
You should know why I lost it.
"When I leave," he said, "I know your appetite will magically return. So let's get back to business."
Here we go again.
"Why are there so many scars on your body?"
For a moment, I stayed quiet. No one had ever asked me that before. Then again, no one had ever seen me like this either. Would lying help? Probably not.
And strangely, telling the truth didn't seem like it would hurt either.
"Well... whenever I made mistakes, I got beaten for them."
I shrugged.
"And trust me, I made a lot of mistakes."
I even smiled a little at the memories.
But there wasn't a single trace of amusement on his face.
"Who used to beat you?"
"Hey." I glared at him. "You said only two questions."
"Tell me."
And apparently, he could glare too.
I had only just realized that.
I tried reminding him about our deal, but the way he was looking at me made my confidence slowly crawl into a corner and die.
"My dad and my teacher." I paused. "But both of them are dead now, so it doesn't really matter."
"They both used to beat you?"
I nod.
"After Dad died, my teacher continued it. Sort of... on his behalf."
Old memories came rushing back, and I smiled faintly.
But the expression on the general's face told me that he didn't like my answer.
Not one bit.
"Didn't your mother stop either of those bastards?"
There was a sharp edge to his voice.
"Don't call them that," I snapped.
"I had no choice but to respect them."
He stared at me.
"Are you sick or something?"
Excuse me?
"They beat you brutally, and you respected them in return?"
I could see the tension in his face. Even the nerves along his jaw seemed tight. Was he angry? But why?
I had never held anything against them. Which simply meant that I had deserved whatever punishment I received.
"One was my father," I said. "The other was my teacher. Whatever they did, they did for my benefit."
I looked at him.
"At least... that's what I understand now."
I really didn't understand his problem. Did he pity me?
The room fell silent. I hated silence.
Especially this kind of silence, where two people sat together and suddenly didn't know what to say. There were so many other things we could talk about.
His eyes.
His family, although I wasn't particularly interested in that.
His future plans.
Literally anything except this.
But before I could drag the conversation somewhere safer, he spoke.
"My father used to beat me too."
I looked at him.
His voice had changed.
"I hate him for it."
He paused, as if something from the past had suddenly appeared in front of him.
"I used to beg him to let me go. But he never did."
It was difficult to imagine. The general sitting in front of me, who looked as though he could destroy anyone who challenged him, had once gone through something like that too.
And the way he spoke... I knew he wasn't lying.
But why was he telling me this?
"My father is the reason I chose the army permanently," he continued.
"I'm sorry." The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Wait. Where had that come from? Why was I suddenly talking to him like this? Did I pity him now?
"Now you know," he said quietly, "that not every father is the same. You respect yours. I hate mine."
Before I could say anything else, he pulled me into a hug.
What?
Why?
I froze.
I'm not your therapist. Please maintain some distance.
But despite every sensible thought screaming inside my head, I felt something else.
I felt sorry for him. And just like that, I hated his father more.
But then... Something even stranger happened.
In his arms, I felt secure.
Secure? Why?
That feeling was completely unfamiliar to me. I knew I had never felt anything like it before.
Rose. Pull away.
I slowly tried to move back.
He didn't let go. So, naturally, I tried talking instead.
Maybe he would release me if I distracted him.
"What about your brothers?" I asked. "Did they go through the same thing?"
"No." His answer was immediate. "And they're not my brothers."
"Why?" I acted curious.
Even though I already knew the answer.
"Stepbrothers. Nothing more."
"Out of the two, Mason is nice." I had to give my opinion. "I don't like Kyson."
"Hm. Mason's okay?"
Apparently, we were both on the same page when it came to Kyson.
I had talked enough now.
Surely, he would let me go.
Except... He still wasn't letting me go.
Please. I have received enough security for one day.
Finally, he began to pull back.
Thank goodness. Except, apparently, I had celebrated too early.
His hand reached toward my face.
He gently moved my hair aside. My forehead was exposed. He stared at it. Intensely.
Then he leaned forward. And kissed my forehead.
My entire body froze.
I was one hundred percent sure that he had kissed my birthmark.
I tried to pull away. Useless. Before I could properly react, his hand brushed against one of my injured knees.
A perfect excuse.
I screamed and shoved him away as hard as I could.
He pulled back.
For several seconds, I couldn't even look at him.
Rose, you should hate this guy from the very core of your heart.
Just like you hated his father.
Not sit here and let him hug you.
Definitely not let him kiss your forehead.
Idiot.
No matter what happened, I needed to stay away from him.
He would always be my enemy.
"Please leave."
The words came out much quieter than I had intended. Almost squeaky.
But he listened.
He stood up and walked toward the door without saying anything. I didn't look at him as he left. Actually, I couldn't.
I shouldn't have let him get that close. A small part of me felt guilty for shoving him away so hard. But that guilt was nothing compared to the hatred I felt toward District One.
I would never get close to him.
I couldn't. I shouldn't.
He was an enemy.
So why was it suddenly becoming so difficult to remember that?
And there was something else. Something I thought I had seen in his eyes. I hoped it was only my imagination.
Please let it be my imagination.
Not him. Not someone from District One.
Not my enemy.
Was it wishful thinking? Or had I really seen something there? Something I probably wasn't ready to understand?
Nah.
It was probably nothing. I got up, walked to the door, and closed it.
Then I returned to the bed.
The plate of food was still sitting there, patiently waiting for me. But after everything that had just happened...
I had completely lost my appetite.