Rokah decided to be honest with himself. He actually never hated Mr. Hendrickson. He never felt the string of loathing violently vibrating in his presence, as much as he sensed his organs torn apart whenever he thought of the Aractanthrope or the hairy magus.
Was he biased?
Was it because Mr. Hendrickson was physically weaker than him? And he could get rid of him whenever he wished.
Maybe it was because of the circumstances of their meeting that made Rokah feel superior to the latter?
That day, he couldn’t stop himself from following Mr. Hendrickson. And he still wonders why he tried to stop him. Why did he even think that the man was going to take his own life in the first place?
The scene of him forcibly working his way under the blizzard in the direction of the cliff, fighting the cold wind, was nostalgic for Rokah’s memories and deeply resonating in his foreign ruptured self.
Mr. Hendrickson was a strange and complex individual. He didn’t resemble anybody Rokah had met before. He was physically weak, disabled, yet his presence was overwhelming, like a mountain peak penetrating the passing clouds.
When he observed him a few more times, he got the impression that this man can see through everything standing in front of him, be it a thick wall, closed doors, or a conscious being hiding deep, inside a self-made inner fortress. He made Rokah feel insecure, exposed, even behind his mind’s iron fences.
All of that activated a degree of awareness and stress. Rokah grew to experience another kind of fear, the fear of being naked, the fear of his ugly self getting bare in front of the whole outside world.
The decision to finally confront this man, face to face, without masks, he has taken a long time ago. But the courage to realize it was a force he reared simultaneously with his search for the truth about this village and its residents.
He just needed a push and Lady Savannah’s odd early arrival tied the knot of this decision as well as the village elder blessed it.
Rokah long had this strong belief that he won’t advance in the journey to find himself, to get to salvation until he will face someone like this man, and he needed to face him, defenseless without a shield.
However, when he saw him today, the image of a demon with broken horns slashed in his imagination. In this scene of Mr. Hendrickson, as he struggled to sit on the chair and had difficulty bending down to remove his shoes, Rokah figured it out at once; this man was distressed, insecure, exhausted and above all, he was in pain. This agonizing view of this man was extremely delightful and made Rokah’s soul strangely satisfied and happily dancing above the azure.
Deep down in the darkness of the room, Rokah speculated about the reaction he will get if he intimidated Mr. Hendrickson’s life. The very life that the latter wanted to cast away on that cold day.
When he placed the blade near his neck, the reaction he got was boring.
For a moment, Rokah perceived the notion that Mr. Hendrickson knew that he was not going to be killed. Not in this quick, peaceful way. Since Rokah got the illusion that this man thought that he deserved a painful, outrageous death.
“You have told me that I resemble your father?”
Where was Rokah lost in when the conversation turned this way?
Resemble your father?
Rokah vaguely remembered he had said that.
Well, it was a lie…
Sometimes he forgot about uncalculated white lies that he formulated under the pressure of a given moment. Though, what did Mr. Hendrickson truly mean by mentioning it; right here and right now?
Was it his manner to tell Rokah that he knew that he was just a hollow collection of white lies dressed in an appealing mask?
Rokah smiled, maybe this was his first, not misbegotten smile, in like… He doesn’t remember.
But Rokah was determined this time. He even took the risk to sneak into the manor. Now is the time to have an honest talk. It was the time to put off the mask:
“I was lying, Sir, and I wasn’t alone in that. We were both lying to each other… and the two of us knew that we were lying to each other.”
A cracking noise comes from the bed. From the corner of his eyes, Rokah saw the maid starting to wake up. He will not allow this brave confrontation to be disturbed by any person. He moved near her, then he tilted his head close to her ear and whispered: “rest assured, I am not going to hurt you. ¨ After, he closed her mouth and nose with a piece of wet fabric. The maid fumbled, trying to take off his hand, but in the end, she fell unconscious. At the time she was resisting, Rokah was looking at Mr. Hendrickson, closely observing him, and Mr. Hendrickson looked back at him with eyes full of indifference.
“I do not understand you, you are not mad because I pried into your business, neither you sympathize with me because I resemble someone dear to you. Why did you come here then?” Mr. Hendrickson said after the wave of the tranquil spread through the room.
Rokah adjusted the position of the maid, wiping his hands on each other. He glared at him; it was the moment he was waiting for. He said, his voice was earnest: “The truth, Sir, I am here for the truth.”
“The truth is not without a price…”
“I know,……… then, name your price.”
Rokah didn’t know what had happened to Mr. Hendrickson that instant. He saw the light of salvage shine on his darkened, discouraged face. As if he gave him the keys to heaven, or he sent down the ropes to fetch him from his grave.
The sparks that lighted the fire of satisfaction in Rokah’s heart a few moments ago got smoldered to ash. Mr. Hendrickson returned to his assured self. This was the demeanor of the terrifying Mr. Hendrickson that Rokah beheld on many occasions.
“I want you to work for me.” Mr. Hendrickson said with that awful smirk on his lips. And with his statement, an invisible lightning bolt struck Rokah’s body, rendering him senseless like a dry tree trunk ready to be burned to ashes.
” You do not need to answer me now. Have your time. Think about it. And no matter what your answer will be, I will tell you the reason behind the inducement of the inbreeding in the village.” Mr. Hendrickson continued while his fingers were tapping restlessly on his cane’s handle. He knew that this offer will raise Rokah’s curiosity, and regardless of which decision Rokah will choose, he will end up seeking to meet him personally a second time.
This must be his real motive. This must be the reason behind his brightened visage and that awful smirk. Rokah thought.
How came the situation did turn upside down in a blink of an eye?
This man was certainly a master puppeteer, and he thought he can wrap his threads around him as he wished.
Even so, Rokah didn’t hate him or despise him. On the contrary, his way of playing with words kindled a blaze of reminiscence that slightly illuminate the closet of his confused memories each time he sees this man without his mask.
Was there someone from his past that has a cunning character and a smart-mouth personality that resembles Mr. Nicolai Hendrickson?
