A Pretty Enemy Is Safer
Mira’s hands trembled under the table, but her lips stayed sealed.
The silence between them stretched thin, like a wire ready to snap.
Mira didn’t dare to eat anything on the table until Talia dipped into all.
Talia, oblivious to the storm raging inside her, only smiled softly and reached to clear the plates.
“Eat a little more,” she urged gently. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re not starving yourself.”
Mira nodded, though her appetite was long gone. She kept her head bowed, hiding the flicker of suspicion in her eyes. Every gesture of kindness from Talia felt heavier now, layered with the question that haunted her—could this be part of the steps to finish her?
Finally, after some minutes that seemed like an hour, Talia cleared the plate, washed all, prepared all the necessities for Mira, and set to leave for work. Mira sat there thinking to herself—sheep in human clothing, green snake under green grass, trying to sway my feelings and caring but wanting to kill me later.
She was jolted back to life with the sound of Talia approaching.
Talia walked closer to her and gently held her by the shoulder.
“Don’t strain yourself, okay? Don’t try to force out memory or force yourself to do what you’re not strong enough to. Rest. I’ll be back before evening.”
Mira forced a nod, her lips curved in a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She muttered to herself, “Back by the evening after a day of killing.”
The moment the door clicked shut and Talia’s footsteps faded down the street, the smile fell away. Her hands tightened against the armrest of her chair.
She stood by the window and watched Talia’s traces disappear.
She pushed herself up, her legs trembling under her weight. The ache burned with every small step, but adrenaline steadied her. She reached for her crutch, and with it tucked under one arm, she managed to stand straighter than she had in days. Each movement was slow, deliberate, but she felt alive in it.
“I can’t keep sitting here like a trapped bird and wait for my death. I have to act fast before they take the next step,” she whispered, sweat dampening her brow.
She changed into plain clothes, draped a jacket over her shoulders, and tied a disposable mask across her face. The mirror reflected someone almost unrecognizable a shadow of herself. That was good. That was what she needed.
By the time she slipped out of the apartment, the sun was already warming the village. Mira kept her head low, her steps uneven but determined. She didn’t stop or look back until the winding path began to slope downward. Her chest tightened when the cliff came into view the same cliff that had almost been her grave.
Yellow tape stretched across the base like a warning, fluttering lightly in the breeze. The big “No Entry” sign board placed there by the police. The ground was scarred where she remembered falling, the dirt churned and scattered by searchers. A few villagers lingered nearby, gossiping in hushed voices. Mira approached slowly, keeping her voice casual.
“What happened here?” she asked, her tone soft, careful not to draw suspicion.
One woman shook her head. “They said a big chairwoman threw herself off. Suicide, poor thing.”
“Has her body been found?” Mira asked, leaning closer, trying to fish out more information.
Another leaned closer, lowering her voice. “But the strange part? They never found her body. Police searched for days. Nothing. Some say the sea swallowed her. Others think she might’ve been eaten by some animals, since it has been days she died, and it’s obvious it’s a suicide ’cause she left a suicide note.”
Mira’s grip on her crutch tightened until her knuckles whitened. “Her body reported missing? Declared dead? Suicide when she was still alive…”
Her chest rose and fell sharply. She turned away from the women, her heart pounding as she forced herself down the slope toward the barricade. But as she drew closer, she froze.
Two men lingered near the tape, blending in with the villagers, but they didn’t look like villagers. Their eyes swept the cliffs, the bushes, the rocks like wolves sniffing for prey. Their stance was too rigid, too practiced. They weren’t mourning or gossiping. They were searching. Hunting.
Mira’s pulse stuttered. Her crutch dug into the dirt as she backed up slowly.
“Maybe if I ask the police for help… tell them I’m alive… maybe I’ll survive,” she murmured under her breath as she moved toward the group of policemen combing the area.
But then her eyes caught one of the officers standing near a car. His face burned into her memory.
“I’ve seen him before…” she whispered, tapping her head as if the name would fall out. Then it hit her, the recognition exploding like thunder. “The… the… the driver,” she gasped, her words trembling.
“The man who had impersonated my driver that night. The one who had driven me to my death. Now he stood in a police uniform, laughing and talking like he belonged there.”
“Could he be… a policeman?” Mira whispered, stammering. “No… no wonder he got easy access to LBH that night. If he had the uniform, he could get anywhere. Are the police… are they part of this too? Then what is my offense that warrants going through all this to kill me? Who did I offend?”
Her legs shook violently as she drowned herself in questions.
Her knees nearly gave out. Panic swallowed her whole.
“So it wasn’t child’s play. It’s an adult scheme. Even the police are tied into this. Who’s the mastermind powerful enough to buy even the police over? No wonder that assassin boss said my death was already written. All that was left was for me to die without justice.”
Her throat tightened. “Then who can I run to? The police? How… when they’re the ones waiting to finish me?”
She thought of screaming for the onlookers, but her body froze. If she called out, those men lurking nearby would just fire a bullet and end it all.
“No…” she whispered, trembling. “This isn’t small. It’s bigger than I thought. They mean business. They won’t stop until I’m gone completely.”
Her mind raced. If she lingered, they might see her. If she ran, she would draw attention. The disguise on her face felt paper-thin, like one gust of wind could tear it away.
Only one choice remained.
She turned sharply, forcing her weak legs to carry her back the way she came. Step after agonizing step, the path blurred in front of her. There was nowhere safe. Nowhere to run.
Nowhere except back to the very woman she feared might be part of it all.
Yes… go back to Talia.
“Since there are still people hunting me in the crowd, then maybe… maybe they don’t know I’m alive. Maybe Talia didn’t tell them yet. Or maybe she belongs to another group of killers… or maybe she doesn’t want to kill me now and is probably saving me for later. If she hasn’t killed me yet… maybe she won’t.”
Mira swallowed hard, her throat dry. Her own voice came out as a whisper, as though she was trying to convince herself:
“Stay close to the wolf… it’s the only way to keep the other predators away. A pretty enemy is safer than an ugly one. At least if she later ends up killing me, I will die looking at that pretty and handsome face.”
And with that, she disappeared from the cliff path, limping back toward Talia’s home back into the jaws of her doubt.