Chapter Six: The Death of Pam

Even under martial law, I could still sense the undercurrents, danger lurking everywhere. Anxiety gripped the villagers: on one hand, the mushroom fields’ yields had plummeted; on the other, only scavengers deemed loyal to Orchid were permitted to leave the village, and even they had to rotate shifts—one day exploring outside, the next on patrol within.

During one such patrol, I discovered Aunt Orlai’s house abandoned and in disarray, as if a struggle had taken place there. The fear in my heart only grew when I thought of the kindness Orlai had shown me. Lately, I hadn’t seen any sign of Chatterbox, Junk, or the others—they had vanished from the village without a trace.

Searching for clues inside, I found a diary beneath the bed, dusted only on the surface—a sign it had been hidden there recently.

Flipping through it, I read: “A miraculous recovery has occurred in Orchid’s illness; the tumor I once felt in his abdomen has disappeared. And yet, I suspect something is amiss. His blood type… is completely different from his last examination. It’s now type O, but he was certainly type B. So I drew another sample, and that was type AB. What’s going on? Are the machines broken? They are over a hundred years old—I suppose it’s not surprising.

In any case, I must talk to Orchid, make him admit that killing was wrong, and have him apologize to everyone. Perhaps we can still regain trust. As long as we’re united, there’s nothing we can’t endure. If all else fails, we can seek help from the Sword and Shield Society.”

The last line was scrawled in haste: “He’s come for me, right outside the door. Oh God! Oh God! What should I do? He’s not Orchid anymore!”

A chill seized me, as if my soul had been cast into a wintry void. Suddenly, I noticed a shadow at the door. I leapt up, the blade in my hand catching the faintest light.

Dali whispered, “Lance, it’s me.”

I relaxed a little. “Orlai is gone too,” I said.

“I know,” Dali replied, “I checked the surveillance footage. Aunt left the village late last night and hasn’t returned…”

“But how did she get permission to go out?” I asked.

“She seems to have stolen my father’s token.”

Relief washed over me. “At least she left of her own will. It’s cold comfort, but it’s better than being murdered by my foster father.” The thought made me shudder. Was my foster father truly so cruel in my eyes now—a ruthless tyrant?

Dali asked, “May I speak with you?”

“Of course,” I answered.

She followed me to my room, where her gaze fell on the fish tank. She covered her mouth in shock as she saw the three fish bones. Red for Courage, white for Purity, gold for Faith—all devoured, all gone.

Her body trembled. “What happened?” she asked.

I sighed. “It seems this fish tank… has an uncanny sensitivity. It reflects the state of the village. Courage, purity, faith—all lost, and so the fish have died too.” The recent chaos had even made me superstitious.

Dali stared at the tank. The blue fish remained, swimming carelessly. Suddenly, the black fish emerged from the shadows, heading straight for the blue one. Dali shrieked, but the black fish merely bumped the blue, then swam past.

She murmured, “Kindness… and Hunger, they’re still alive. If the village recovers, will the other three fish come back to life?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe in resurrection. No matter how magical the tank is, I doubt it can manage that.”

Dali nodded. “I want you to know, my father loved my mother deeply, and he misses my uncle. He’s not the kind of villain who schemes for power—far from it. He had a bright future in the Sword and Shield Society, but he sacrificed so much for this village.”

I told her I believed the same, that the Orchid I knew was a man of greatness and integrity.

Dali said, “My mother’s dying wish was for my father to protect the village and care for me. That’s why he treasures this place so much—because he loved her deeply. You know, he didn’t cremate her, nor did he bury her in a culture chamber. He preserved her body using techniques from the Sword and Shield Society, and keeps her hidden in his house. It’s our secret. I can still pay my respects to her face.”

I was stunned; I had never thought my foster father capable of such passionate devotion.

Dali stepped closer, took my hand, and said, “I’m willing to marry you, just as my father married my mother. I want to stay in the village with you, cherishing each other as they did with their faithful love.”

Once again, I was speechless. She asked, “You don’t want to?”

“Do you want the truth?” I replied.

She frowned. “If the truth would hurt, then perhaps not.”

“I… I always thought you and Milsay were meant for each other.”

Dali laughed. “Do you think it’s noble to pass me around like a prize?”

“Even if we married,” I said, “wouldn’t you still think of Milsay? If you were me, how would you feel?”

Dali shook her head. “Once we marry, I won’t think of another man. That was the folly of youth—I’ve grown past it.”

I smiled wryly. “Just a few days ago, you were about to elope with him.”

Her cheeks flushed. “And you were ready to die to save me. Lance, in that moment, I realized how childish I’d been. I understood that I need you, my father needs you, our home needs you!”

I embraced Dali, kissed her forehead; she did not resist, but allowed me to kiss her. I realized then she was making herself love me, as if she were one of those ancient Greek maidens offered to a sea monster—willing to trade her life for the village’s peace.

She wasn’t unwilling, but neither was she entirely willing. She was sacrificing herself, moved by her own selflessness.

I hated that she thought this way, hated that she saw me as some greedy, shameless beast of legend. But at the same time, I knew she was a good girl—the very best in the village, perhaps in the world. To marry her would be my greatest fortune.

But so what? I didn’t want such fortune, nor did I wish to serve as a foil for her noble spirit. I am Lance. I cannot match my foster father’s ideals, nor can I rival Milsay, but one day I would surpass them both! I would not confine my life to this small village.

In that moment, my mind was clear. I would help my foster father through this crisis, and when his illness was cured and all was settled, I would leave—alone, with my provisions, to seek the skyscrapers and achieve something beyond their wildest dreams. I would not marry Dali, nor inherit the village. I would live for myself and no one else.

Suddenly, the alarm blared. Dali and I parted. She shouted, “Another escape?”

We rushed to the exit elevator to see Meizer lying there, his throat slit. Newt was holding his old comrade’s hand, tears welling in his fierce eyes, his grief and rage palpable.

“It was those… those cowards!” he roared. “They attacked him while he was resting! They actually hid knives!”

“Who did it?” I asked.

“Pam! That little bastard—he killed Meizer, then escaped. The elevator took him up automatically. And… he has an accomplice!”

“I’ll bring Pam back,” I said. Aside from me, Pam was the fastest among the scavengers—Newt would never catch him.

“Kill him for me!” Newt demanded.

“Take care of Dali for me,” I replied.

Dali brought me the token, and I stepped into the elevator.

Even without Pam’s footprints, I knew where he would go. I raced after him, catching up at the cliff’s edge near the great bridge.

Pam was gasping for breath; I was exhausted too. He stared at me in terror. “Pam, what are you doing? Why did you kill Meizer?” I asked.

“I wanted to leave! Meizer was in my way! Only a fool can’t see the truth—the Waterless Village is finished! Orchid has lost his humanity, turned into a brute! The mushroom fields yield nothing. I’m a scavenger; I know the terrain for forty kilometers around—I can survive on my own. I won’t go down with the village!”

“But the village raised you, gave you what you have. How can you abandon it in its darkest hour? What about your wife and child? Will you leave them behind?”

Pam cowered, showing signs of madness. “I’ve seen things you haven’t—maybe you think I’m crazy, but I have to tell you!”

He paused, then continued, “Just before dawn each day, Orchid goes out to wait for the sunrise. I’ve seen him holding a red statue, absorbing the sunlight with it, then… shining it onto himself.”

I recalled that strange statue, and Orchid’s recent bizarre behavior—my unease grew.

Pam went on, “I lay hidden; he didn’t notice me. But he wasn’t just Orchid—he became Chatterbox, became Mr. Junk, became Nona, became Damo…” He was breathless, his voice rising to a wail.

“That’s impossible! Nona and Damo are dead!” I shouted.

Pam looked at the sun with a haunted expression, as if it were hellfire. “They are dead—I saw it myself—but they still live inside Orchid. He’s no longer alone; many people dwell inside him. Their faces emerge from his skin, talking, laughing, arguing, each voice and tone exactly as before! I even saw Dalia’s mother…”

I too began to shake. “That’s absurd! You must be mistaken!”

Pam started to weep. “I’ve seen Sara many times—she was just as she was in life: kind, beautiful, gentle, alluring. I saw a three-headed demon barking inside Orchid…”

In that instant, I remembered the scene in the tunnels: the beast’s paw swelling from Orchid’s belly, his swollen body, the missing corpse of the three-headed dog-man. I’d never told anyone about it—Pam couldn’t possibly know.

He wasn’t making things up; what he described matched exactly what I had seen.

Pam said, “They—Orchid and all of them—were laughing together, so happy, so content. All the differences between them gone, they’d become the best of friends. They praised this state, regretted not fusing sooner. Listening to them, I… I nearly wanted to join them. Their words echo in my mind, never stopping, calling me to become that… that kind of being.”

Pam drew a gun, pressing it to his temple. I cried, “Pam! Stop!”

Pam smiled. “Better death than that existence. Compared to that, death is exquisite. Farewell, my friend!”

I could not stop the gunshot. I could only watch as Pam’s body tumbled from the cliff.