Chapter One - 8

8

 

After the sun set, we were transported by truck to a nearby dormitory. The dormitory was a beautiful whitewashed building. After our shifts were over, we were allowed to rest in the dormitory. While many soldiers were unable to find accommodations, we were fortunate enough to be provided with this fine private home. That was because the owner of this house just so happened to be a strong patriot. He had gone to Paris with his family and was planning to move further into the country's central region in the near future.

Inside the dormitory, a medic from the Red Cross and a pastor were kneeling together, discussing something. When they noticed us, they stopped talking to each other and welcomed us. They offered us their prayers and compliments with an extensive vocabulary. I didn't really listen to them, though. They weren't bad people by any means, but I'd much rather have been arguing with Hale and the others. These people had no sense of humor. I left early and went upstairs to my bedroom. I immediately fell into bed. Maybe I was tired. There was nothing I appreciated more than being able to rest in a bed.

As I looked up at the abstract art hanging on the wall, I thought about my fate to reincarnate. I knew the legend of the Six Headless Knights and the six cursed daggers. I also knew that the daggers may have been the origin of my curse. However, I had no idea why I had been saddled with this chain of reincarnation.

I keep getting reincarnated. There is someone I need to kill. Those are the only things that remained clear in my memory.

The sound of shelling had ceased, but the rain outside was still noisy. I lay on my back and turned my head towards the window.

Someone was looking at me.

I jumped up and grabbed the pistol off the table. I turned the safety off. I pointed it at the window. There was no one there. I slowly approached the window and was shocked. The room was on the second floor, and there were no footholds for a person to use to look in. I put my face right against the cold glass and looked outside. I thought I saw something white moving below me. But it soon disappeared.

I clutched the gun to my chest and went back to bed. I turned off the small light on the side table. I couldn't imagine a German soldier dressing in white, but better to be cautious.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, the door opened and Jean entered the room.

“Sorry to trouble you. We'll be sharing a room tonight.”

“Better you than Hale. He talks in his sleep constantly.”

“Oh, he's busy arguing with the pastor. When I left, the poor man was on the verge of crying. In 30 minutes he'll be ready to renounce God. But in 40 minutes, all will have been forgotten. Everyone down there will be singing and dancing and have forgotten all about God,” Jean said cynically, sitting down on the bed next to me. “By the way, a message arrived for us. We have to go back to the trenches tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“They're short on manpower. They want our help repairing the communication trench. It'll only take a day.”

“Alright. I'll tell the others.”

I felt disgusted. The repairs were just an excuse. We'd be holding guns, not shovels.

“I always wondered, why don't you ever complain when we talk to you like we're not your subordinates?”

“I wonder the same thing, but now you always talk like you're my equals.”

“Hmph,” Jean snorted, giving me a sly grin. “By the way, there was a woman downstairs who said she knew you.”

I sat up.

“I'm going downstairs.”

“'Kay.”

I put the gun in the holster at my hip. I always carry a gun when I'm on my feet.

“It's always a pleasure to see each other again.”

“Save the poetry for the lady. Now get out of here.”

I left the room and went downstairs. In the living room, a group of soldiers were acting rowdy, wine in hand. They were enjoying themselves to the fullest in what little time they had. I stepped out of the room and walked away from the noise.

In front of the kitchen, someone had set up two small easy chairs. The chairs had been placed quietly, as though they'd been left out of all the hustle and bustle.

She sat in one of the chairs. She looked up at me, wide-eyed.

“Raine!” 

She jumped on me and threw her arms around my neck and shoulders. I hugged her back.

“I'm not Raine right now.”

“I know. I'm not Marie, either. But we're still Raine and Marie.”

I stroked Marie's long hair. She looked up at me with her clear chestnut eyes.

“The game has begun,” I whispered in Marie's ear. “Either the dagger wins, or we do.”

“Where is the dagger?”

“In the attic. It belonged to the owner of the house.”

“I'll be the one to die,” Marie said with a sad expression on her face. “I'll always be the one to die. Even if I die, it'll be fine, as long as I can see you again. I'll die over and over again.”

“Marie...” I shook my head. “For us, death itself is no longer the problem. The problem is that the moment of death is the most painful, most agonizing, and most tragic thing left in this world. If you're stabbed with the dagger, you'll start bleeding. You'll definitely cry. You're a crybaby. That's why there's no way I can kill you.”

“I'm not a crybaby.”

“Alright, then, a pushover,” I laughed. “In any case, I'm going to resist that dagger to the bitter end.”

“That's a pretty boring plan.”

Marie and I sat down in the chairs. The two lonely seats suited us.

“I'm surprised you made it here.”

“Yeah. It's a strange story. If I search for a dagger, I always find you.”

“It's ironic. The daggers are the indicator. Thanks to them, we can meet each other intentionally. We can discuss how to resist our fate. But the dagger will always be there at our side.”

“Can we destroy the dagger?”

“I don't know. I've done a lot of research on how to rid the world of the daggers. But most of them are just mystical rubbish. Ancient Celtic rituals, white magic from English mystics, dubious things like that. And there are six daggers around the world. It's hard to imagine we could destroy them all at once.”

“If only the Earth itself would disappear.”

“Good idea.”

“But then we wouldn't be able to see each other. I'd miss you.”

“We're always reborn. But what if someday, when we're reborn, we lose all our memories? Will we still reunite and kill each other with the daggers, without knowing why?”

“That would be okay. It would be a tragedy if only one of us were to lose our memories. Maybe you wouldn't believe me even if I explained it to you. Or maybe you'd find another woman. What could I do if that happened? I couldn't abandon you, but I couldn't approach you either. What could I do?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you tired, Raine?”

“It seems so.”

“You should get some rest.”

“Don't worry about me.”

“None of that, now. I'm a nurse. Tired soldiers listen to nurses.”

She stroked my head as though she were soothing a child.

“Marie, who am I right now?”

“You are an honorable French soldier.”

“Ah. Yes. That's right. I'm not a knight in shining armor. I carry a gun. My memory has been so hazy lately. Is it the dagger?”

“Sometimes I'm not sure who I am either.”

Marie slowly shook her head. I stood up and kissed the back of her hand. Marie smiled at me shyly.

“Yesterday was war. Today was war. Tomorrow will probably be war, too.”

“You won't die. Because I won't kill you.”

“Good night, Marie.”

“Good night.”

 

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