yam.laure

I laughed so hard reading the comments from last chapter. My imagination doesn’t meet the hilarious solutions you guys proposed, but I hope you enjoy this chapter regardless.

“If I tell you, will you leave me alone and stop reading my mind?”

“Alright.” He nods seriously. “I swear on my mother’s life.”

Hahahah you think I was born yesterday? What if your mother’s already dead?

“Swear it on your life.”

“… You really should learn to trust people more.”

If I did that I would have been dragged into one of the plots a long history ago. I glare at his attempt to waste time.

“I swear on my right hand. I’ll even cut it off and give it to you if I didn’t meet the promise.” He continues, “I’m only telling you this because you seem to not know who I am, but my life is something too precious to bet. Giving you my right hand is already a large achievement.”

Yeah I really don’t care who you are.

“Fine I’ll tell you what you want to know tomorrow. So let me go.”

He raises his two hands in a surrender and moves away from the door. Once I enter the room, the frustration rises again and I slam the door in his face.

Lying on the bed and facing the dusty wooden ceiling, I wonder how mind reading works - Is it passive or active ability? Does it have a range within which it works? Does he ‘see’ or ‘hear’ thoughts? Does he percept only conscious thoughts or can he read the unconscious parts as well?

Mind reading is a cheat superpower; no one knows the exact mechanics because the authors never explain. They just think it’s a cool thing to spice things up so they’ll add it in their story. That makes it hard for mobs like me.

Whenever I plan something, he’ll know. On the other hand, I have no idea what he’s thinking. It’s like a botched game of poker where he knows all my cards and I know none of his. What kind of absurd broken power is this?

Should I just tell him what he wants to know and be done with?

><><><><><><

The next early morning, the travellers each leave their room to wait on the cart driver to finish preparing horses to continue the journey. I recite multiplication tables in my head, hopefully deterring one particular person from reading my thoughts. The air is freezing, I shiver underneath layers of clothes and wrap the scarf tighter around my neck. My fingertips are numb from cold, so I push them deeper into my pockets.

“I hope I get the answers to my questions today.” The man whispered into my ears, the warm wind tickling my ear canal contrasted against the cold surrounding. Goosebumps rise on my forearms from his words.

The change in his personality from aloof, mysterious man to creepy privacy-invading pervert is simply astonishing.

…... Where was I again? Right. 12 x 12 = 144… 12 x 13 = 156…

The journey swiftly continued, carrying the silence similar to the day before. I hug myself in a corner to reduce heat loss. The cart came to a stop when the night descends. The days are shorter in winter, so the driver sped up considerably during the day to make up for the longer nights.

“We’ll take off 4am tomorrow.” The cart driver reminded and the travellers enter the inn and check into separate rooms.

I stare at the creep before separating ways to our own room. Let’s just tell him. What he does with the information is none of my business isn’t it? Maybe he’ll think I’m insane. But what he chooses to believe and what he thinks of me is not my problem.

It was near midnight, when the whole inn is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, two figures sit opposite each other with a small wooden table in between. Candle light flickers on the table and its soft glow lighting up the corner sets a calm ambiance. You can hear a wolf howling from a far distance. The stray dogs in the village would bark every now and then.

The man's expression sitting across me mirrors my seriousness. Well, there's no turning from this now.

“You can ask 3 questions and I’ll answer. But you must keep your promise.” I pull a cleaver out of my bag and put it on the table with a wicked smile. “Your right hand depends on this after all.”

Yeah I don’t care I’m chopping this man’s hands and balls off if he continues bothering me.

“The balls wasn’t in the deal.” He reminds, yet I retain strong temptation to neuter him. He pales, probably from seeing my imagination of continuously stabbing his crotch.

I should've thought of this earlier. That way I could've tortured him the whole day on the cart.

He coughs, breaking my line of thoughts. Since he removed his mask, his unnecessarily handsome features are fully exposed.

“You can just think of me as a person who collects interesting stories. I’ll be on my way after I’m done hearing.”

Yeah you'd better. I glance at the cleaver again and at him with a knowing smile.

“You probably already have an idea, but the answers I give will sound strange. Regardless, I’d like you to keep this discussion a secret.”

"Fine. I more or less have an idea but I want to confirm." He nods, then continues with his question. “You grasped the personality and identity of the girl on the cart quickly despite no interaction. Your power to come to a conclusion about my abilities was also a feat that hasn’t been done before. It’s like you’ve seen prophecies about what will happen. How did you do that?”

“That’s your first question? I read it from books.”

It was not a lie. I did read these from books.

He stares, waiting for me to continue my speech or my thoughts. Too bad, I’m not going to expose myself further. At this point, he probably realised he needs to ask more specific questions.

“What’s a ‘mob' and why do you label yourself one?”

“That’s technically two questions, but okay.” I smile, tapping on the wooden table top slowly before phrasing my answer.

“I’m not sure if you read fictions, but suppose there was a story. Main characters are the ones who have a predetermined life, with set goals and destinations by the end of the book. They are extraordinary in one way or another, go through several difficult trials to reach their goals.

Meanwhile, a mob character is someone forgettable; someone whose purpose is to help the main characters shine brighter. Once their objective is fulfilled, they’re thrown away to never appear again. I’m a 'mob' because I wasn’t born with anything special to make me stand out.”

By this time, he’d also probably figured out that I’m referring to this world as something I’ve read in a story book. His expression quizzical, probably deciding on how to use his last question. Maybe he’s wondering where the book came from. Or why the hell I’d want to remain a mob character if it was such a shitty role.

I grin at him, and stop my thoughts altogether, switching to sing a song in my head instead. Thinking any further will give him more information I don't want to leak.

He smiles bitterly when he realises what I was trying to do.

“This is the last one... Why are you adamant on being a ‘mob’?”

“I don’t want my life to be bound by a rule. I’ll decide on my own goal, my own destination, and I’ll carve my own path.”

Now that sounded as if I have a grand objective in life, but really all I want is to avoid the drama and hassle which comes with the title of “main character".

“Now that we’re done, I hope you can leave me alone and stop reading my thoughts if you want your right hand intact.” I stand up from my seat and grab the cleaver, giving it a small wave. The dull cleaver slice the air with a slash. The rusting end shows it would really hurt if you try to chop a body part with it.

I stare at him and then my eyes drift to his crotch. “Your balls aren’t safe either.”