Hidden behind the concealing foliage, the child and his mother observed with bated breath as Kian's sudden eruption of laughter rippled through the air. The giggle made the enigmatic man lingerie near the cave's entrance tense and on high alert. Distressed yet seemingly relieved at the perceived absence of any onlookers, he pressed on along the rocky facade of the cavern. Despite his concerted effort to shield his impeccable attire from the insidious touch of water, fate dealt a swift blow, leaving his once-pristine clothes drenched.
"I told you so!" Kian's voice burst forth in Sor's tranquil refuge. This time, Kian's enthusiasm manifested silently, his voice a secret shared only with the smirking Sor beside him.
Compelled by circumstances, the newcomer, with no alternative but to forge ahead, leaped from one stone to another, ultimately finding himself beyond the pond's confines.
Upon reaching solid ground, exuberant about his aquatic triumph, he confidently planted a firm foot on the lake's edge, oblivious to the deceptive nature of the seemingly stable ground. As his foot made contact with the shore, the ground betrayed its solidity, and he descended into muddy, marshy waters up to his knees, transforming his prior elation into a spectacle of muck and dismay.
Suppressing their laughter, mother and son stifled their amusement with covered mouths. Meanwhile, the hapless fellow, now covered with swamp moss and inky black roots, faced no recourse but to divest himself of his once-elegant attire.
Closer to the forested expanse now, the captivating features of his face came into view—striking green eyes and lips tinted a seductive cinnamon hue. Without hesitation, he shed his well-polished leather boots, followed by his velvet cloak, coat, shirt, and even his pants. Under the layers of opulent garments lay a robust, sculpted physique molded with bulging muscles and biceps, his porcelain doll skin unmarred by imperfections.
"Check out that body...! And that thing… How colossal and monstrous!" Excited Sor blurted out unconsciously, her passion escaping her in a barely restrained volume. Kian hushed his barefaced mother, the duo exchanging panic-stricken glances as the outsider, now aware of their presence, turned his attention towards the dense shrubbery.
Sensing that something was amiss, the young man, his gaze penetrating the thicket, hastily donned his undergarments, piled the rest of his clothing underneath the bushy branches on the lakeshore, and abruptly plunged into the water, submerging himself completely except for his head.
"He knows we're here!" Little Kian declared with unwavering certainty.
Kian's questioning mumble hung in the air as Sor contemplated the stranger's peculiar behavior. "Why would a distinguished gentleman, adorned in such opulent attire, resort to hiding his clothes?" She wondered. The urgency to conceal his flashy garments, juxtaposed with his plunge into the pond, hinted at an underlying fear, a secret he was desperate to protect.
Inquisitive Sor, drawing from her life experiences despite her youth, pieced together the unfolding drama. "A gigolo slave!" she exclaimed in her mind. "A beautiful man fleeing from a cruel, wealthy master, seeking sanctuary in the forest. Now that I think about it, It's so obvious!"
Immersed in her deductions, Sor was abruptly yanked back to reality by the bare man's voice echoing through the forest. "It's no use hiding anymore! I know you’re there! Come out!"
Kian looked to his mother for guidance, and with a subtle gesture, she signaled him to reveal themselves. The duo stepped forward, their footsteps breaking the tranquil hush of the surroundings.
"What are you doing in the water?" Sor questioned directly, her curiosity overcoming any lingering amusement.
The audacious young man retorted, "And what about you? What are you doing here? Don't you know it's illegal for slaves to approach this property belonging to the king’s offspring?" His tone dripped with arrogance. "You know what fate befalls those who cross that line? And if they find you here...!"
Sor, incensed by the insolence of a mere gigolo slave, interrupted boldly, "Let's set that aside for a moment because what I want to know is who you are and your business in this land. Lurking around the jungle with no clothes on! My guess? You're a spy! An enemy agent working for neighboring countries."
Even as she uttered these intimidating words, Sor couldn't shake the nagging realization that a genuine spy wouldn't waste time soaking in a pond, exposed and vulnerable. No, he was undoubtedly a lowly slave, kept for his beauty by a wealthy master.
Unfazed by the bold accusations, the arrogant man, bombarded by the verbal onslaught of a seemingly meek slave woman, felt a twinge of threat. But Sor wasn't finished. "Tell me exactly who you are right now, or I'll report you to my master immediately."
The stranger, initially composed, now pale and fearful, stammered in response, "What do you mean by spy? I am not a spy!"
Sor pressed on, her tone unyielding, "If you're not a spy, then tell me who you are this instant! You seem to be an important person." The forest echoed with the weight of the confrontation, a dance of power and secrets unfolding beneath the canopy of ancient trees.
"Important person? Not at all! I am not important at all! I... I... I just." Lost for words, the man was stammering. Facing the impossible act of revealing the truth about his status, dazed into creating a false tale, he finally composed words into sentences: " A wandering traveler! "
The suspicious declaration hung in the air, mingled with the palpable skepticism emanating from Sor. Her mind, ever sharp and perceptive, had already stamped its approval on the notion of the stranger being a fugitive slave.
"Yeah! He is unquestionably and irrevocably a fugitive slave!" Sor affirmed in her thoughts, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place in her mind.
The agitated man, caught in the act of conjuring a false narrative, finally mustered the courage to affirm, "That’s it! I am just a wandering traveler!"
Sor, not one to be easily convinced, retorted with a chuckle, "Are you sure? Because you don’t sound all that genuine! There's something fishy!"
In response, the unfamiliar man, his frustration escalating, began to shout presumptuously. "How dare you? I’m going to make you regret..." His words remained unfinished, yet another reflection of his erstwhile status as a rich master's gigolo, the young woman wondered. Sor couldn't help but grin at the irony of his attempts to assert dominance in the current situation.
With a sidelong glance yet daring tone, Sor mocked, "How dare I? What do you mean?" The regretful man, unable to find words, lowered his head, his demeanor reflecting tangible frustration. Sor, despite her initial suspicions, couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for him.
"Okay! I take your word for it! You are not a spy!" Sor conceded. "But what is a lone traveler doing here, stuck in the middle of the forest?"
The man, now adopting an air of vulnerability, began his tale of woe. "Bandits attacked our caravan, looted all our property and everything we had!" he claimed, attempting to convey a sense of horror. "They slaughtered all the passengers and convoy elders. It was a horrifying experience! And during the chaos, I was the only one able to escape, as I was taking a leak in the wilderness, and that is the only reason I’m alive right now!"
Sor, attempting to hide her cynicism replaced by sympathy momentarily, exclaimed, "Oh my God!? How horrible and scary!"
"I was the sole survivor of their terrifying assault. And I didn’t know anyone in this area, so I had to find shelter here," he continued, weaving his narrative.
The woman, now softened to some extent, expressed sincere compassion. "I'm sorry to hear that! You must have struggled a lot! Poor...! Actually, you haven’t told me your name yet… What should I call you?"
"My name is Rib... Raman..." the man lingered in his reply.
"Rib Raman? Is your name Rib Raman?" Sor inquired with curiosity.
"No! Only Raman!" he stressed.
A faint smile appeared on the corner of Sor's lips. It was evident to her that he was deceitful, yet carrying a heavy burden, refusing to even divulge his true identity. She was well aware of the severe consequences of collaborating with and aiding fugitive slaves. Reporting him to his masters could fetch her a substantial reward, a tempting prospect hanging in the balance.
As Sor observed the man before her, his past life echoed through the affluence of the clothes he had shed minutes ago. A rich and influential master undoubtedly sought his return—a powerful lord willing to expend a fortune to reclaim this handsome slave.
Yet, an internal struggle raged within Sor. Despite the potential rewards of turning him in, her compassionate heart recoiled at the thought. The smug boldness that cloaked the man now seemed a fragile facade, and Sor found herself pitying this creature who, despite his outward health, bore the invisible scars of untold hardships and psychological torment.
Sor could sense the profound pain that lurked below the surface—a man who had experienced a lifetime of suffering and traded the comforts of opulence as a slave for the harsh reality of life. Because, a cage, no matter how grand, remains a cage when one is bound against their will. His decision to forsake the trappings of wealth and choose this desolate existence spoke volumes about the hell he must have endured.
"So be it!..." Sor declared resolutely, her decision firming. "Okay! That settles it! I’ll Help You Out!"
Comments (1)
See all