Legionaries
Hydra
October 23, 2018
At 00.21
IN a dim light, the Juragan looked at me with a terrifying grin. From the look in his eyes, it seemed like he had just smelled something wrong. Something that doesn't go as he wants. After all, if this is for the purposes of a new mission, usually he only communicates through an envelope tucked on a frame. He wouldn't bother calling me upstairs just for that. Has he not kissed my closeness to Rama?
I don't know. I realized, sooner or later, the man whose age had exceeded half a century would soon find out, because all this time nothing had escaped his attention. I also realized, the Juragan will not tolerate the chaos of romance, which he thinks can potentially interfere with my focus and concentration on duty.
A few minutes ago, at exactly 12 p.m., the Juragan called me to face. If so, there's nothing else I can do but follow his orders. I owe him half my life. It all started with something that happened 18 years ago. An incident that caused trauma to my head. That said, when I was eight years old, I almost became a victim of the depravity of pedophiles. It was inconceivable how fate would have been, had Juragan not appeared and saved me.
In times of trauma recovery, Juragan— along with a doctor of foreign nationality even willing to care for and support me. The scribe has already regarded me as his own flesh and blood. He also raised and educated me to become a strong figure, galvanizing me with martial training and physical dexterity. This flats house is a witness to how he gave his affection for me, even if it was done in his own way. Juragan is not a gentle old man and likes to say sweet words. However, from the way he looked at me, it was enough to show his human side that was even more compassionate than most of the elderly people in the capital.
Suddenly, there was an erratic feeling appearing on my chest. It seems I'm starting to believe Juragan's advice that falling in love is a fatal mistake, that the issue of romance is a potentially mentally debilitating poison. So many times, Juragan warned me about it. Lately, I have finally understood what Juragan meant. Especially after I knew that my feelings for Rama could not be reciprocated as they should.
My face has not stopped bowing since entering this room, the room on the top floor of this bunk house. This is a room that is usually occupied by the Juragan. Not many people know what the Juragan do in this place. While I, who had spent almost my entire life living with him, had already quite grasped his habits. On a blind night like this, he never fell asleep. Highlight his eyes stay awake watching the situation around the flats. Regarding the highlight of his many eyes that became the talk of the residents, I am not too surprised because a little bit I know the background of the Juragan in the past.
In his youth, the Peter Scouts were one of the most reliable snipers the Republic Army had ever had. Although he had hung a rifle for a long time, it did not make him lose all his privileges. One of the perks that still remains in him is the ability of his pair of eyeballs to intimidate opponents. Although still unable to hurt physically, the two eyeballs always managed to attack the deepest side of man, namely mental. Realizing what the two eyeballs could do, I chose to lower my head to avoid direct eye contact with them.
Along with a thumping heart, I entered the Juragan's room. The gloomy nuances instantly burst forth. The air bubbled all over the corner of the room. The walls of the room greeted me with a grim face. On the ceiling of this room, the 15-watt light bulb that was the only lighting began to dim, as if squinting a glance to watch my movements. Juragan himself was ready to welcome me on his favorite rocking chair. The swing of the wooden chair made a creaking sound that gripped my sense of hearing. The vegetables sounded a sceptical sizzling breath.
"K ⁇ College, Gan." My voice wavers.
No response from the Juragan. He turned his eyes to the pocket of striped shorts he was wearing. Slowly, his palm slipped into the pocket of the pants and took out a piece of polaroid photo.
"There's a new prey for your dog" he said, as he turned the photo towards me.
My heart beats when Juragan's fingers touch my hand. The fingers were cold like the skin of a corpse as if to depict the attitude of its owner. Meanwhile, the uneasy feeling I kept tight remained dusty within my chest cavity. Juragan has not mentioned Rama, but I'm sure he already knows. So, after receiving the photo sheet, I immediately moved on. I tried to avoid Juragan not having time to talk about Rama.
However, I just turned around, "There's a problem?" Lothawat! Juragan started trying to lure me into admitting a mistake. "Speak."
Sooner or later, I have to talk about Rama, but not now. For the sake of staying away, I did not take the time to look at Juragan. I'm sure that right now a pair of Juragan's eyes are scanning my entire body, diving into all forms of my actions that are beginning to show awkwardness.
"Nothing, Gan," I said, forcing myself to smile knots. "If it's over, I beg you, Gan."
The photographer again did not respond. There was not a single parting sentence that sailed from his mouth. I ventured to glance at the look in his eyes that still rained down on me. His eyelids began to narrow in curiosity.
While the walls surrounding the room were still faithfully spreading gloom. Urgent stuffy air crowded into my chest cavity and pressed down on my heart. The creaking swing of the rocking chair again sounded with my steps that never reached the doorway. This time the creaking sound was getting smoother like a molar sound that collided with each other. It was like the sound of a hungry tiger.
