"I can’t look."
Someone in the crowd turned away, squeezing their eyes shut, unable to bear the heart-wrenching spectacle the governor was forcing everyone to witness. Others wept openly, not only because of what unfolded before them, but because they knew, deep in their bones, that this was also the fate awaiting them someday.
The suffering that Old Lady Himari and her grandson, Hajime, endured under the public eye was not unique.
It was merely one tragedy among countless others buried within this territory.
This was not an isolated case, but a story each and every one of them carried. And tonight, the governor made it painfully clear just how powerless a person could be—how he, the governor, could toy with people’s lives simply because he could.
Because he could get away with it. Because he was the law.
His entertainment was the life of each and every one of them. And while he reveled in it, everyone else could only endure the sickening twist in their stomachs.
Yet, not everyone looked away.
Quite a few kept their eyes fixed on the stage, fists clenched at their sides, trembling with suppressed rage. Their hearts burned, pulsing violently in their chests. They knew just one push, one reckless move, and they would doom not only themselves, but everyone they loved. So they endured. They swallowed the anger clawing at their throats and stood still.
Even when staying still felt torture in itself.
"Till when are we going to live like this?" someone whispered through gritted teeth. "Until when...?"
His breath hitched, chest tightening as if his heart might burst from fury alone. Those around him lowered their heads, expressions dark and hollow.
"Damn it!" one hissed, punching his own leg out of frustration. "This is why it was mandatory attendance."
The governor had ordered them to come—willing or not—for this very reason. This was how he set examples. By showing them this, he reminded everyone that Gehran was the absolute law.
"This thing... when will it ever end..." the man murmured, trailing off as someone brushed past his shoulder.
He turned, startled, as he saw a massive figure squeezing through the crowd.
"Sorry," the big man muttered without stopping.
The onlooker frowned, eyes dropping to the heavy sledgehammer scraping loudly against the concrete ground behind the stranger.
"What the hell is wrong with that guy?" he muttered.
"He’s probably one of the governor’s mercenaries," someone beside him replied quietly.
Others nearby also stared after the towering man. He was far too large to ignore—broad shoulders, thick arms, every step heavy and deliberate.
"Is he the executioner?" someone whispered, eyeing the sledgehammer the big man was dragging.
"He looks like one."
Those who overheard nodded grimly. In every public execution, there was always an executioner—big, intimidating, meant to inspire fear. Still, this was the largest they had ever seen.
With that assumption made, the crowd dismissed him from their thoughts. After all, no one could walk into the square carrying a sledgehammer without the governor’s approval.
Meanwhile, on the stage, Haji and Himari remained locked in each other’s gaze.
The noise, the crowd, the threat of fire—none of it existed for them in that moment.
Haji’s lower lip trembled. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision.
"Don’t..." His voice cracked. "Don’t make me do this again." His chest tightened painfully. "Nana, please."
Himari smiled softly at him.
Her eyes were calm, accepting, and reassuring.
She tilted her head slightly, as if etching his face to memory—every sharp line, every familiar expression.
If there is one regret I have, she thought quietly.
It’s that I won’t be able to cook your favorite dish one last time.
*****
[Short Flashback]
Years Ago...
"Nana, are you out of your mind?!"
Haji’s voice thundered through the dilapidated brothel where Himari now lived. The walls were cracked and stained, the air thick with stale smoke and cheap perfume. He slammed his hands against the worn table, standing abruptly, disbelief etched across his face.
"What do you mean you’re staying?!" he shouted. "You can’t stay here anymore! Why would you choose to stay in this wretched place—there’s nothing left here!"
His eyes swept across the narrow room. He hadn’t understood it when he was younger, but now—now he saw it clearly. This place wasn’t just broken.
It was rotten.
"Haha..." Himari sighed, lifting her gaze to her furious grandson. "Our people are still here—"
"Screw these people!" Haji snapped. "These people are the same people who turned their backs on you! On Pops! Nana, have you forgotten? When Pops was working in the tunnels, they wouldn’t even open their doors to give him water! They stood there and watched him get beaten like an animal!"
"Hajime," she said gently, "your language."
His jaw clenched, his anger flaring hotter.
"This is what you’re focusing on right now?" he demanded.
"Hajime, do not hold hatred for our people," she said calmly. "They did nothing wrong. Our land is sick, and so are the people living in it. The disease is the system that rules Ravah."
He froze, eyes blazing. "It’s not your job to cure it."
Himari pressed her lips into a thin line.
She rose slowly and stepped toward him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Hajime," she said, smiling softly, "even after I lost my title as First Lady of Ha, I never lost the oath I made to your Pops."
"An oath to support his legacy," she continued, "and to place the people before ourselves."
"That oath didn’t end when Jarvis overthrew your grandfather," she said quietly. "It doesn’t disappear just because I no longer live in a palace. This is our responsibility."
Her eyes shone with quiet resolve.
"I don’t want to face your grandfather again someday and tell him I abandoned the people we vowed to protect."
Haji staggered back a step. His hands clenched into fists, shaking.
None of it made sense to him.
If anything, it only hurts.
"Why..." His voice trembled, thick with frustration. "...why do you always choose these damn people over me?"