Night had fallen. It was quiet eerily so. Just the gentle hum of insects in the background, the occasional murmur of soldiers exchanging hushed words, and the crackling sound of distant fires. The camp was still alive, but subdued. There were still patrols soldiers marching silently around the perimeter, watching, waiting. Another day of marching would come soon. But tonight, just for tonight, the air felt different.
It was oddly pleasant. A breeze passed through the camp, light and crisp, carrying with it a strange sense of stillness. The kind of stillness that felt unnatural.
The Major stood some distance away, conversing softly with the same Captain Aman and Mei Lian had noticed before the large, hulking man who rarely spoke but seemed constantly alert. The two officers were close, it seemed. And tonight, there was something in the air between them. A quiet understanding. A weight.
Aman and Mei Lian glanced around from where they sat among the prisoners. Most had already collapsed into exhausted slumber, huddled together for warmth and comfort, though there was none to be found. No one dared move, let alone run. Escape wasn't a thought anymore it was suicide. They all knew that now. Death wasn't the threat. It was what came before it. Torture. Degradation. Despair. The Japanese officers didn't kill prisoners outright. That was too easy. Too clean. No, they broke them slowly, until even death felt like a gift. That was the real punishment.
Suicide, to some, felt like the only way out. And in some twisted part of their minds, the soldiers probably considered it a mercy when a prisoner finally gave up and ended it themselves.
Aman and Mei Lian were kept with the rest, but their treatment was clearly different. They were better fed. Not bound. Still had shoes. It felt unfair, even to them. But what were they supposed to do? Refuse it? Complain? In war, when survival was luck, any small mercy had to be taken no questions asked.
Why feel guilty? Who were they, really? Just two more survivors in a long chain of the desperate. If given something better than others, you took it. You didn't ask why. Because tomorrow, you might be dead.
And that was the haunting thought, wasn't it?
What if tonight was your last night? The last time you heard a voice. The last time you saw the sky. The last time someone called your name.
And then gone.
That was the world now. And nobody would remember you. Not the ones who kept you here. You were no one to them. Just a body. Just another number. Another mouth.
But to someone else, maybe you meant something.
...
"If I die, what are you going to do?" Mei Lian asked suddenly, her voice soft, too calm.
Aman looked at her, startled. "Can we not bring this up now?" he said, brushing off the question, trying to stay grounded.
"But it could happen," she continued. "Any one of us. Tonight. Tomorrow. Doesn't matter if we're young. Healthy. Death is near."
She gave him a smirk, but there was something unsettling behind it.
"Mei? What's going on?" Aman asked, leaning in, concern blooming in his chest.
"You know..." she laughed lightly, eyes glassy. "Tonight's kinda peaceful, right?"
Aman studied her more closely. Something was off. Her expression. Her tone. Her posture. It wasn't just exhaustion he knew her too well for that.
He reached out and slapped her gently, then again. Nothing. No reaction. Her smile just stayed.
"You know, if you die," she said suddenly, her voice dropping low, "then I don't have anyone else."
She stared down at her hands. "My mother... she was the only one I trusted. They took her. Touched her with those filthy hands. And now you're the only one left. If you die, I'll find the nearest cliff and jump. If I live, I live. If I die, then I die. What's the loss?"
Aman's breath caught. Her pupils dilated. Too wide. Her tone erratic.
Drugs.
Something was in her system. Something strong.
He scanned the dirt near her feet. There faint traces of a white powder clinging to her hand. Not much, but enough.
Panic began to rise in his chest.
He had to find the Major. The soldiers wouldn't care. Not really. The only reason they were even still breathing was because the Major found them... entertaining. Like pets. Or toys. And when toys became boring, they were thrown away.
Still, Aman knew the rules. You couldn't just ask to see the Major. Not whenever you wanted. But this was different. Mei Lian needed help. Even if it meant groveling, even if he hated every second of it he'd do it.
He stood, slowly. The guards didn't stop him. The Major had told them "no" when it came to hurting the two. It was the only order they followed without question.
Aman slipped past them, heart pounding, eyes scanning the rows of tents.
The night air was cool, but his body was burning with urgency. Every second mattered.
And yet, for a brief moment, he felt something strange. Like someone or something was watching him. Following.
He shook it off.
Mei Lian was the priority.
He crept further into the camp, trying not to make a sound. He didn't know where exactly the Major's tent was he moved it often. Another one of his unpredictable habits.
Still, Aman pressed on. He had to try.
But then...
He stopped.
A tent up ahead was something, its flaps fluttering slightly in the breeze.
Curiosity won.
He peeked inside.
And froze.
His blood ran cold.
The scene before him was nightmarish but not because of gore. He had seen gore. He had lived in it.
This was something else.
A man's limbs had been severed cleanly, surgically. Both eyes were gone, empty sockets staring into the void. But it wasn't just a killing.
It was... an arrangement.
The body had been posed, arms twisted inward as if he had stabbed himself. A grotesque mimicry of suicide. The blood, the positioningnit was staged. Intentional but clearly someone kill him.. and arrange him into piece of arts if he the Major probably he already smiling and admire watching this.
Aman stepped inside, hands shaking.
And then he saw him.
Carter.
Standing calmly near the body. Smiling.
The same man they thought was dead. The same man the Major had spoken of.
Scarred neck. Empty left eye socket. The ghost.
"Carter... what are you doing?" Aman asked, voice hoarse.
Carter turned, face blank. "Well. Seems we finally meet."
His tone was disturbingly casual.
"I knew you'd come. Your little friend's not doing well, is she?" He exhaled, long and slow. "I drugged her. Figured it'd get you moving. And here you are. Even a rat like you is loyal, huh?"
Aman stared, horrified. "You... what?"
Carter grinned, stepping closer. "I thought this was the Major's tent. I really did. He moves them every night. Clever bastard. I wanted to leave him a present."
He gestured toward the mutilated body. "Captain. Always by the Major's side. Until now."
Aman said nothing. His mind was reeling. The smell. The blood. The implications.
Carter continued, voice faster now, agitated. "I was supposed to meet him. Finally. You know how long I've waited? And now? Wrong tent."
His eye twitched.
"I wanted it perfect. And now it's just... a failure. I didn't even get the right one."
Aman clenched his fists. "You're insane."
"No," Carter replied coldly. "I'm awake."
He stepped closer, shadows casting over his face. "But you're not, Aman. You still believe in people. You still care. That's what makes you weak."
"And yet," Aman replied, trembling, "here I am. Risking everything. For someone."
Carter paused, expression unreadable. "You really did change."
Aman shook his head. "You haven't."
Silence fell between them.
Aman knew what had to happen now.
Only one man could stop Carter.
The Major.
He hated the idea hated the very thought of relying on that monster but now, Carter was worse. This wasn't survival. This was something far more terrifying.
Aman turned and ran.
Carter didn't follow.
"Run, rat," he whispered. "Lead me to him. Lead me to your owner."
Because now, the storm was coming.
Two monsters one of madness, the other of morbid curiosity were about to meet.
And between them?
A battlefield drenched in blood.