GESTURES

In the test hall of the twelfth deck, Burton was inside a fifty-meter radius grassy ground, standing tall with a graceful build, staring fixedly at the white cat, lingering in the other half with his deep-set blue eyes that seemed like two garden-fresh berries, endeavoring to make the cat sink into the depths of the spring that were his eyes. Be that as it may, the cat did find itself looking twice at Burton, but it cut the eye contact whenever it felt even remotely uncomfortable, and thus resisted his pull.

Dozens of fellows watched from outside the circle of grass, some of whom were chattering whether Burton would win or not. The size of the hall itself was six hundred meters long and almost as wide. Compared to the test hall of the eleventh deck, this one was many times smaller and seemed a lot less lively as well, despite the two sets of paintings that graced the walls of this hall: cats doing their cat-things, and humans trying to interact with cats in various ways.

"You can't blame him even if he loses. This test is too damn hard in many respects, after all," one of the men in the crowd said in a thickening voice. "Not only did I fail to succeed in it for dozens of times, but I also lost all my money in betting. It hurts me to say this, but if not for 'Loose Booths[1],' my situation would have been equal to that of a beggar."

"No one has managed to get a headband out of white cats in the last three days as far as I know," another man voiced his mind.

"Yeah, as far as speed is concerned, white ones may be slow compared to the black ones, but these white ones are much harder to fool."

The deck test 'Cat Conflict' was quite simple: steal the headband from the cat while both the contestant and the cat stay within the ring. If the cat stepped out of the ring even once, the contestant would automatically pass the round. If the contestant stepped out of the ring without any external interference, then not only would they fail the test, but also they would not be allowed to climb any more decks and would be doomed to bide their time on the twelfth deck or lower decks.

There were two choices when choosing cats: the black and the white ones. Black ones were aggressive, and they were more prone to attack. White ones, on the other hand, were less aggressive, but they were highly slippery as they would run at the slightest movement of the contestant. If one chose a particular colored cat, they'd have to stick to it no matter how many times they fail. And any contestant would get only a single try per day, and in each attempt, one was given merely three minutes. Only rarely, at times when there were less than four-hundred contestants ready to take the test, one might get multiple chances per day.

Not surprisingly, the competition for the ticket was quite high here than on the eleventh deck. If not for Burton coming to the hall in less than a day after winning the test on the eleventh deck, he wouldn't have been eligible to get one of the reserved tickets from the referee. In that case, he would have been forced to buy the tickets in black. Generally, the smaller the number on the ticket, the higher would be its price as one would get to participate earlier in the day, but still, most sellers were always prepared to exploit the innocence of some entries. There were times when some naive people were sold tickets for as high as half a gold.

Customarily, the ones who were more likely to attract higher bets were the ones that referees favored.

As for the test rules, the contestant was permitted to throw food at the cat or use food as bait, but using weapons to scare the cat into submission, beating the cat, or intentionally hitting it out of the ring resulted in direct disqualification. And the contestant would later be forced to explain to the judge of the current sector—the decks comprised between eleven and twenty, including these two decks as well.

After trying his luck with his magnetic staring and failing to allure the cat, Burton then put a cup full of rose milk down at his feet, and the white cat did glance at it but looked away as if he meant no business.

"Ha-ha, forget about sniffing, it didn't even step in toward the bowl," one of the guys in the crowd sneered, feeling a lightness in the chest derived from needlessly interfering in other's business. "You chose a bad one, buddy. Also, fooling these raised cats with milk is too routine of a tactic compared to your grandma trying to fool you with chocolates when you were a kid. This sort of tactic is too easy to see through for these cats. Rose milk is better than normal milk, but these nasty things only fall for special foods no less coated with greatly smelling ingredients such as catmint."

There were a set of a hundred white and hundred black cats from which a contestant got to choose from, and Burton preferred to take on a white cat. Now, in case he failed this time, he would only get to choose from one of the hundred white cats for all his following attempts until he scored a victory.

Burton tried tossing some cat food—tiny meat pills he bought just for the sake of this test—around, hoping that the cat would turn to him, but it seemed more interested in observing an audience slurp on chicken broth. If not for the training it received, it probably would have stepped out of the ring in an attempt to persuade that specific person among the audience.

Burton stood still, trying to comprehend the reason behind its ear play, for he didn't have much experience with cats in the past. So their body language was a new subject for him to learn.

At the same time, seeing that the cat pills that Burton had wasted didn't work, some of the crowd laughed thoroughly. Most of them bet against Burton, so they were happy to see his efforts not get any response from the cat.

"How many cat points you think he'll earn?"

"At best one, so I bet three copper coins on it."

"Haha, I bet on one gesture as well."

Many people had already bet against unknown odds. Cat points were given only by the referee after the cat showed a gesture from the set of appreciated gestures—licking themselves or the contestant, headbutting, kneading, rubbing, mouth talking, tail talking, purring, scratching, biting, paw rocking, and so on.

Generally, cats would constantly lick their bodies if left alone, but these cats were trained from birth in a similar environment to not get captured, so it would be safe to say that they somewhat grasped the importance of the test as long as they were inside the ring. As a result, getting any gesture wasn't an easy thing. On average, almost forty percent of a day's matches would end without anyone witnessing a gesture. Still, most bettors chose to bet on seeing one cat gesture as most cats were prone to licking themselves often. If not, there was also the chance of the contestant managing to get a gesture out of the cat.

Burton picked up the cup full of rose milk and placed it at the border of the ring, making the audience wonder within limits. He had already wasted more than a minute in trying to get a positive impression using gazes, milk, and pills, so he didn't want to spend any more time on drawing its attention and instead just shot himself toward the cat at full speed, making it bolt away.

"The cat's on the move. There's no way he's going to catch that now," someone from the crowd purposely spoke in an attempt to demotivate the contestant.

"Hehe, it seems like this conflict is as good as done," another man voiced their opinion, being sarcastic with intent. His words garnered a few chuckles—ha-has and fu-fus—from the crowd.

Adding weight to the ploys of the audiences, the acceleration and agility that the cat displayed were leagues above Burton, and it kept circling the ring with relative ease, always sticking close to the border. All these things made it look as if Burton's loss was inevitable; however, he did not stop and kept on chasing it as if his life depended on it. As the cat traveled near the border, it came across the rose milk every time, but it didn't stop.

"What is he doing?" a man among the crowd covered his face with the hand. "He seriously can't be expecting the cat to stop and drink the milk. If that's the case, his stupidity is beyond stupid."

"Haha, time is running out, and he has no idea what he's doing."

"Yeah, it'd be more entertaining to watch if the cat were to claw his face into a bloody mess."

The audience voiced their opinions for whatever reasons they had. Killing a contestant's confidence or wasting their time through trash talk was accepted as per the rules, so some experienced bettors always tried to make good use of it.

"You've done enough, buddy, so why don't you try and bring a gesture out of the cat? We'll give a packet of bread with added jam if you can do that for us!" another one from the crowd vociferated, in an attempt to entertain other audiences, and he triumphantly caused a few sneers to bloom.

However, the very next moment, Burton kicked the cup toward the cat, forcing it to jump into the air in startlement. With a flick of his thumb and middle finger, he sent a cat pill flying at its nose, and the pill hit it hard, making it jerk its head in pain and confusion. And as the cat landed, Burton lunged at it, and though the cat was quick to react, he grabbed its tail before it picked up its speed. With a twist of the wrist, Burton whirled the feline by its tail, making it scream in fright.

Mwrravv~!

The terrified scream of the cat echoed in the hall and got response calls from many other cats living in the cat home—a spacious room for the cats to reside.

All the audiences, who had mocked Burton before, were now watching him in slackened jaws as he stepped past the spilled milk, making sure his shoes weren't spoiled, all the while twisting his wrist and causing the cat to cry at the top of its lungs.

Everybody went momentarily speechless, not because he won, but because of the way he won. If that cup of milk had hit the cat instead of the cat pill, the cat would have gotten bruised a bit, and Burton would have likely gotten disqualified and be forced to face the judge of the sector for a review.

"Meow! Meow!" the referee, Jehez, a man with messy brown hair, light stubble, long neck, and a broad build, hurriedly entered the ring, "Let the cat go!" He had a green-colored diamond earring adorning one of his ears.

"I didn't yet pull the headband," Burton said, his wrist still in action, "I won't be failing, right?"

"No," Jehez raised his voice further, his eyes emitting the coldness of the winter, "unless you want to die, stop spinning the damn hand, and let the cat go!"

"Okay," Burton let go of it, making the cat fly over the crowd, its scream trailing off in the audience's ears.

"Someone, catch the cat!" Jehez requested the audiences, albeit with a demanding tone, and a few men responded. What Burton did, especially the way he let go of the cat, truly irked Jehez because Burton's actions would likely scar the cat's behavior for long, and it might not behave in ways they would expect it to inside the ring. As Burton walked out of the ring, Jehez gave him a frosty look as if deciding whether or not to make him pay for his actions.

"I didn't think he'd pass..." Lirzod, who was in the back rows of the crowd, said, unable to hide the dainty disappointment on his face. With enthusiasm, he had expected the cat to fool Burton, but that didn't happen. Aside from that, his reddened ears still throbbed from the choleric twisting Sariyu had put them through after catching him in the hall.

"He's good at using his brain, unlike a certain someone," Sariyu said, her arms loosely folded across her chest, "so I expected this result, but still, I didn't expect him to kick the cup like that. Luckily, the cat jumped a bit too high, instead of jumping away. Otherwise, he wouldn't have caught it just like that. Anyway, it is my turn now."

"I want to wish you cat-proof skin, but that skin might feel a bit too rough, so I'm just wishing you all the best," Lirzod said, teasingly, already covering his ears with his hands to avoid any more twisting.

Sariyu raised her hands and blocked the space between her and Lirzod with her palms as if she repelled his wish. "Some say cats signify bad luck, not just the black ones but all of them, so you can try wishing for the cat-proof skin. You will need it more when you participate afterward." Saying that she headed toward the room of cats known as Cat Home, where there were so many white and black cats to choose from. There was the assistant referee as well, waiting at the door, ready to clarify any doubts at asking; however, as she closed in, a horrible stench came from the room, forcing her to shut her nose and also halt her feet. This smell wasn't as bad as that of the socks she previously experienced near the ice dumpster, but it was still close to that level of ghastliness, so she didn't dare take another step ahead and looked aghast at the cat home.

"What's wrong, miss?" the assistant referee queried, standing right where he was, at the door. His countenance and character had long changed for the better after knowing that the contestant this time around was a girl.

"U-Uh, can you please bring some random cat outside?" she requested, her creased forehead showing distress. If the smell was so bad before she even got into that room, she didn't even want to imagine how much worse it would be inside.

The assistant referee felt exceedingly excited upon hearing that and promptly entered the cat home and came out with a weak-looking black cat. "Is this one, okay, miss?" he respectfully asked Sariyu.

Seeing that gesture from the assistant referee, many contestants standing on the sides couldn't help but envy Sariyu, for she was receiving an indirect favor for whatever reason.

As Sariyu's turn came, the crowd who already were in down spirits now felt even worse. Most people lost money because they bet against Burton. Winning the round wasn't a big deal, but winning it without bringing a gesture of the cat was quite rare. So nobody ended up earning a coin, except for Jehez, who gained a couple of silver from just that one match. Maybe that was the reason Jehez held back his anger from barking at Burton, even though he pretty much wanted to.

Now, the assistant referee's gesture gently rubbed salt on the bettors' wounds.

"Yeah, I will take it," Sariyu nodded in response to the assistant referee's words, not minding the murmurs coming from the crowd, and though she initially hesitated a bit, she steeled her heart and tried to hold the cat. In addition to her hesitancy, the moment the cat landed in her hands, it shook out of her hands, then ran straight into the grassy ring and eyed her as if trying to make a statement.

Seeing the spiritedness in the cat, the bettors among the audiences felt a touch of hope snake up their spines.

"Did you see that?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe, the cat isn't as sluggish as it looks," one guy mouthed, kissing a copper coin. "I guess I'll bet on one gesture again."

"Nah, I'd rather not lose twice in a row," another man stayed behind, choosing not to bet.

"Fool! Look at her with your eyes open. She's the goddess of cats in the flesh!" one man passionately expressed his view, gazing at Sariyu, pointing his forefinger at her. "She will surely win. Just watch that red cat win with ease." His words affected some people into joining the bettings. He later sneakily glanced toward Jehez and secretly winked to which he got a subtle smile in return.

In the meantime, Sariyu stepped in the ring while the cat paced to the left and right in the other half of the ring. Also, the assistant referee had a staggered look on his face upon perceiving the energy levels of the cat and realized that he had made a mistake by choosing it, but all he could do was to curse himself on the inside for failing to help the arresting belle.

Seeing Sariyu enter the ring without even taking any supplies, the audiences, who just bet in her favor, almost pulled their hair out from frustration.

"She's not even using any bait," one man furiously said. "Is she confident in herself, or is this just some byproduct of overconfidence?"

"Who cares? She looks so slim and delicate. My goodness, look at the grace in her walk."

"Are you talking about the girl or the cat?"

"Of course about the cat, I mean, about the girl. I wonder what her identity is. Maybe she's nobility?"

"Come down from the clouds, would ya? A noble wouldn't be roaming alone like her."

"Haha, you're right. Anyway, I think I will bet a silver that she wins."

"Do that if you have no problem losing more coin."

"Wait, you don't think she'll do well?"

"Does she look like someone who ever stepped out of the home and spent a day under the sun? There's no way she can ever catch that cat."

"You certainly think so?"

"Just trust me and put that bet against her," he said as he chewed on a piece of bread. "She has a bonny set of buns, but she's too babyish to be catching cats just yet."

"Hehe, alright."

Since more bettings were taking place, Jehez forced Sariyu to wait inside the ring. All she could do was walk to the left and right, seemingly preoccupied with her thoughts while she mimicked the cat's movements.

A couple of minutes later, after most bets were made against Sariyu, Jehez finally signaled the start by meowing aloud, for meowing once signaled the initiation of the test, whereas meowing twice indicated its end.

As the initial seconds of the three-minute time limit began, Sariyu casually approached the black cat that was at the other end and was staring right at her with vigilance and with a downward sloping tail that implied potential aggressiveness. As she came within ten meters of distance, the cat bent its legs, seemingly ready to either defend or attack, but Sariyu suddenly stopped. Both their eyes were locked on each other this whole time, and she gently blinked once, got down to her knees, then placed her palms on her thighs and faintly smiled. The cat's gaze slowly moved from her face and down to her palms.

"The heck she's doing?" a man among the crowd was puzzled.

"Haha, that's a black cat for cat-sake. It doesn't matter what she does. She surely doesn't know how to handle cats."

"Well, that's good news for us."

As the crowd was going crazy from laughing and booing her, already feeling assured that they would win, the black cat started to walk toward Sariyu, deadening all the jeering and whitened most faces in the crowd almost instantly.

"A gesture!"

The audiences couldn't believe their eyes. In a few steps, the walk of the cat turned into pacing.

"Another gesture!"

Everyone's skin tingled as the cat neared her, and when Sariyu put her arm forward, the cat took a step back before it hesitantly advanced and sniffed her hand.

"Another gesture!" the audience stood rooted and gaped in natural responses: enlargement of the eyes, clutching of the mouths, holding of the cheeks, and other such gestures.

Sariyu momentarily blocked the cat's head from the audiences by using her hands. By the time she removed her hands, the cat was licking its lips.

"F-F-Fourth gesture!" at this point, most heartbeats of the men among the crowd rang in their ears, and even those in the middle of eating had to freeze. "Are you serious?"

"Who gives a shit about an additional gesture? Why isn't she pulling the headband?" an impatient member of the crowd spoke, for he was yet to participate in the test.

And the next second, the cat rubbed its head on Sariyu's palm, its eyes showing expectations for something.

"F-Fifth gesture!"

"T-This..." the audiences began to look at each other's faces, disbelief dancing on their faces through the expressions they made. "When was it the last time someone managed to bring five gestures?"

"She has the cat under her thumb."

"I can't believe she bent a black cat to her will."

"It hasn't even been a minute yet, and to lord over a black cat in such a short time... Too domineering."

As the cat kept looking for something in Sariyu's lap, she rubbed her fingers on top of its head for a few seconds, thereby ended up unintentionally calming the cat before she lifted the cat into her arms and walked out of the ring.

"She came out of the cat ring without taking the headband," a crowd member, who recently arrived at the spot, raised a question, "so that means she failed, right?"

"Idiot, she already passed."

"What? How?"

"Because she freaking tamed the effing black cat. If she desires it, she can even milk the cat, let alone take the headband off of it."

"But still, the rules clearly say—"

"Get lost—you rule freak! If you want the rules to be followed without even a bit of leeway, then you're on the wrong deck. Go to some other deck."

"What? Is it wrong to point out the thing, too?"

"It is. You can't ask for a good tea in a tea shop. You must assume whatever the tea they serve will be good because that's a freaking tea shop. It's the same case here. What the referee follows here are the rules. As long as he doesn't break them, he can bend them as much as he wants. Stealing the headband maybe the task needed to be done to win the test, but stealing the cat itself would not just be an equal but an even difficult task to achieve." Soon after the experienced fellows schooled that newcomer, he left the place, tears streaming down his blackened face.

Meanwhile, most of the crowd was still left with blank expressions on their faces, including Lirzod, for they had no idea how she had managed to tame the cat in so short of a time. What did she precisely do? Many wanted to go and ask her, but suddenly they all felt inferior from having seen her win gloriously, and as a result, none managed to step closer, let alone have the heart to clarify their doubts.

Whatever the true aim of the test was, whether it was trying to steal the headband or trying to tame the cat using various allowed means in under three minutes, everyone knew that neither tasks were easy to achieve. In the eyes of many contestants, just catching the cat was a daunting task in itself; as for taming the cat, that was just the people going overboard. Not one among the crowd bet that Sariyu would even bring three, let alone five gestures out of the cat.

Notably, one man among the audiences, who had bet one silver against Sariyu, was now in an utter rage as he began to badmouth the person who misguided him in so vulgar of a tongue that could bleed elephants' ears and even tongue-twisting masters would have trouble repeating his wretched words.

Jehez, on the other hand, was pretty happy. He profited a lot thanks to Sariyu's win, and in the profits, he would receive a share of fifteen percent, whereas thirty percent would go to the commander of the deck, and just five percent would go to the assistant referee. This profit distribution differed among these three individuals irrespective of the deck number, but no matter the deck, their total share never exceeded fifty percent as the ship management would take the other half of the profits.

"Well, I guess you can't expect any less from a beast tamer," Lirzod said and chortled.

"Oh, so she's a beast tamer," some of the crowd, who heard his words, now understood. "No wonder... She's got a bright future ahead of her." Compared to her, they could only take pity on their sorry selves.

"Of course," Lirzod said, keeping his emotion at bay, "she can tame Burton, so she deserves to be called a beast tamer."

"Burton? Who's that?"

"Is it another cat?"

"Is it a dog?"

"A pig, maybe?"

"No, it's for sure a bull's name."

"How strong is that bull? What is its level? Is it a tyrobeast, or..."

As the crowd got overly immersed in the chatter, Burton, who stood silently on the side, had an unfriendly look on his face but didn't move an inch.

"Well, Burton isn't a bull, but Burton is my big brother," Lirzod, concealing the thrill on his face, sported an innocent expression as he pointed his finger toward Burton.

"Oh, wait, what?" the crowd was surprised, and upon realizing that Lirzod was fooling around, some of them even approached Burton. "Sorry, brother. We thought Burton was a bull or pig or something. We didn't mean to hurt you. You didn't feel bad about it, right?"

"Buzz off," Burton coldly replied, not even casting them a glance.

The crowd angrily walked back to their previous spots. "What the hell's his problem?"

"No idea."

At that time, still holding the cat in her arms, Sariyu walked up to Burton and said in a low voice, "Why do you make people hope for this Burton to go for a burton[2]?"

Burton didn't reply and just portrayed an apathetic expression, causing Sariyu to smile and walk away toward Lirzod.

Meanwhile, on the twentieth deck, inside the surveillance chamber, Gorka was watching the whole scene on a smokecast.

"How do you classify her, sir?" the buck-toothed boy asked.

"She's like a rabbit," Gorka said, standing in a straight posture and formed an unfocused smile. "Even though a rabbit lives and survives in the wild, it still appears soft, susceptible, and weak, yet it's fast, smart, and talented. Well, maybe not that smart, but you get the point." His eyes were occupied on Sariyu and Lirzod as they stood next to each other. "Even if we leave out the other one, these two can become worthy candidates for the sect test if we show them the right way." He glanced at the subordinate. "Also, what about that amusing kid from the Big Tooth tribe if I'm correct?"

"Yes, sir, that kid is also fourteen years old, but his feats speak for himself more loudly after he out-bit a watchdog," the boy spoke with excitement.

Watchdogs were hollows appointed by the captain of a belt to watch over a sector and report illegal activities or impending problems directly to the captain. These watchdogs didn't have to answer to a deck's commander and could raise questions of favoritism or unnecessary prejudice if the commander, referee, or the assistant referee, or any other staff member were to commit to any such practices.

"Haha," Gorka laughed quite a bit. "You'd expect at least such wildness from a tribe like that. Which floor is he on right now?"

"It's..."

In the meantime, on the twelfth deck, at the entrance of the test hall, a massive turtle was munching on the tiny insects that streamlined from their food source to one of their hideouts, whose way in was but through a minute crack on the floor. With its noiseless intake of breath, it was able to pull in the insects straight into its mouth.

Though it would seem as if thousands of such insects wouldn't even suffice for the stomach of a four-foot-tall creature like that, the turtle still seemed somewhat pleased from snacking on the insects, although a snack in its dictionary would have been a grown rodent or some other equivalent.

Most tiny holes on the floors of the ship one would see were the work of bandicoots and other rat species. And these holes were unusually high in number on the twelfth deck because hollows sporadically fed rats to the cats in the cat home. Now and then, some rats would escape and eventually settle elsewhere, usually, on the same floor. Over time, snakes, squirrels, insects, and numerous other species also repurposed these holes.

So the turtle was searching around with its eyes to see if there were any decent holes around, but to its tragedy, it couldn't find any. After all, the management always patched the holes with some fillers regularly. Also, not many rats dared to drill holes in the proximity of the cat home.

Standing beside the turtle was a girl with a scrunched-up hat on her shaved head, wearing a tarnished, tattered brown robe, and holding a worn-out palm-leaf fan as she calmly conversed with a group of desperate individuals. Her round deep-blue eyes bore a resemblance to the depths of the seas. Her dry tanned skin would make one think of sapodillas.

"Madam, I have been feeling a pain in my back since I entered into my early thirties," a man with an overgrown nose pleaded, "please help ease that pain."

"Madam Monk, a few days ago, one rat ate away my finger when I was fully asleep," a man with sagging ears requested, showing what was left of his finger that had swollen into a sphere. "I still can't get over it because of the pain. Can you please do something and make this pain go away?"

"Madam, a nail got stuck in my nose," a man with a snake tattoo on his bald head urged, "please do something about it. I want it gone quick, please!"

"Madam, my tooth is hurting like hell," a man with a tall build and a big jaw said, clutching his jaw. "Take this pain away, I beg of you."

Everyone kept on stating their requests to her, not even giving her any time to respond. If not for the presence of the big turtle beside her, they would have probably surrounded her and pushed her all around.

"I have no problem healing you all, but I have one request," that girl, Everna, replied straightforwardly.

"Anything. We'll do anything!" the overwrought voices of the people rose once again.

"Don't spread negative talk on me after I solve your problems," she said, her expression a bit tight.

"Of course... of course," the crowd repeatedly said, nodding their heads together.

"Great, then form a line," she said, eyes closed, and her lips making a gratifying smile.

In a matter of seconds, everybody scuffled as they made up a line. The first person standing in the queue was the one with an extra-large nose, and he had a back problem.

"Please turn around," Everna requested him.

He nodded and turned back, his face showering a hopeful beam all this while. Afterward, he exchanged a felicitous smile with the second one in the queue—the one with the sagging ears.

"Lucky you, you are getting treated first," the second one in the line said.

"Hehe, wish me—"

BAM~!

"Eek!" the eyes of the second one in the line bulged out as the first one collided with him, carrying a great momentum, so great that he got lifted off his feet.

After all, Everna straight out kneed the man with the extra-large nose, sending him crashing into the rest of the people in the queue. Everybody in the line was affected, and especially the ones in the rear end fell backward, for they had no support.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Did she just kick him in the spine?"

As all the people stared at her, astounded and angered at the same time, the man with the back pain, who previously howled, now stood with a glowing face. He exercised his back for a moment and later had a shocked expression. "My, my back pain..."

"Oi—are you alright?" one man couldn't help but ask with eyes full of doubt. "It's a good thing that you are still alive after taking that cruel kick."

"My back pain..." the man with the extra-large nose was almost in tears.

"Look, he's crying," one man was greatly horrified. "Don't tell me, his spine fully broke from the impact."

"Idiot, how can he stand if it's broken?"

"Y-Yeah. You are right. Then why's he crying?" Everyone's faces were filled with doubt as they looked at him.

"My back pain..." the man with the extra-large nose roared in delight, "it's gone!"

Seeing him dance like a monkey on drugs, the people couldn't believe their eyes and could only slap themselves for thinking of scolding the monk for what she had done. "M-Miracle! This is nothing short of a miracle!" they all immediately reformed the line while the man, who just got cured, thanked her by kowtowing and touching her wooden sandals even though she was younger than him.

"Stop doing things like these," Everna stepped away from him before he could say or do anything else. "I'm not your guru or anything, so a simple thanks is enough."

Hearing her words, everyone's impressions on her spiked and broke through the thresholds of many prudent hearts.

The next one in the line was the guy with the sagging ears who had his little finger chewed away by some rat. He welcomely smiled as Everna approached him, to which she responded with a comparable smile; however, the very next second, she grabbed his finger and twisted his whole arm with it, causing the man to spring on his toes like a rabbit while crying crazily. Her actions petrified the others as seconds went by, and especially, the chilling cry of the man was what really unsettled them.

Still and all, before the people could say anything, Everna let go of the finger, and the man stopped screaming soon after. When everyone observed his hand intently, they saw that the swelling was gone, and the brightening look in his eyes told them everything.

"I-I can't thank you enough, madam," the man, who got his swelling healed, bowed with all his heart.

Everna let out a teeth-exposing smile, one that smoothly stretched her lips up and outward, causing a spasm in the eyelid muscles that resulted in the twitching of the eyes as she walked past him. The smile her lips forged was like the swaying of a flower, for it was never hard on the eyes, yet it had an immense weight behind it. Whether or not one could swim through the depths of her smile or not depended on their perceiving abilities, for it was known as the Monk Grin—a smile that attracted goodness toward all those who witnessed it. Many exaggerated rumors floated around the world regarding this smile that if one saw it, then even their enemies would speak well of them, or one wouldn't be hearing bad news for many days and so on. As a whole, this was a smile that something only monks could pull off, whether it be due to secrecy or the sheer difficulty of the technique, so the monks considered it sacred.

The next one in the line was the guy who had a nail stuck in his nose. He leaked out a hesitant smile before murmuring to himself, "I don't know whether to feel good or bad about this kind gesture she's showing toward us." He had mixed feelings as she approached him, smiling just like she did for the previous cases. "Madam, my problem is—"

BANG~!

A thundering palm strike to the crown of the man's bald head made everyone except the patient jump in startlement. Even the snake tattoo on his head changed shapes from soreness. The next moment, the sound of a nail bouncing on the floor reached everyone's ears, enlarging their eyes further.

Everna ignored the reactions of the people and moved on to the next patient, a guy with a tooth problem. A deep chill crawled up his spine as she pleasantly smiled at him. "Madam, you kicked one's spine, squeezed another's finger, hammered the third guy's head... Are you gonna punch in my mouth now?" he couldn't help but speak his mind. Given his big build, he refused to believe that she'd treat him likewise, and after hearing his words, the others standing behind him also held similar beliefs.

"Monks don't like punching patients, so, swatting became their solution," Everna slapped him hard upon which a couple of teeth flew into the air, leaving everyone in bafflement and worriment at the same time, for it was a slap that reminded one of their fiery grandmothers. A mouthful of blood also gushed out of his mouth. "Oops, got carried away a bit. Sorry."

The man could only collect his bloody teeth and leave with embarrassment written all over his face. Though he didn't even thank Everna, she didn't mind him anymore.

"Oi, did you see that? She swatted that dude as if he were a fly," the other big guys standing in the line were having second thoughts.

As she moved on to the next patient, everybody in the line showed visible discomfort like the farm chickens that could only wait for the butcherer to put their necks under the knife. Slowly but surely, they started to somewhat understand as to why she was called 'Mad Monk' Everna.

At the same time, not far away from the hall, Viktor was sitting on the floor in a pool of blood, a fox laying lifeless in his lap, for he had slit its throat not long ago.

At that moment, a narrow-chinned man with a broken leg was hurrying to the hall with the help of a walking stick. Seeing Viktor, he strained his throat to speak aloud, "Hey, Viktor, what the heck are you doing here? I thought you would already have gotten yourself healed."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Viktor said and smirked. "You know that I don't have enough money for that to convince anybody to care for me."

"I wasn't talking about that. Don't you know that the monk, Everna, is currently healing people at the hall for free?"

"WHAT?" Viktor's eyes bulged spontaneously. "Are you speaking the truth?"

"Of course, dude. Why would I lie? I'm heading there, too."

Viktor shoved the slain fox aside and sprinted straight to the hall, even though the man who just helped him with the information was asking him to help with his walk as well.

In about five minutes, Viktor reached the hall when Everna had just sat on top of her turtle, and the people in the vicinity were scattering away. Most of them had bright faces as if they got their problems solved, but some of them still looked in pain. Viktor immediately went and knelt before the turtle, blocking its path. He joined his closed fists and spoke in a heavy voice, "I have heard about your service multiples times already, ma'am. Please show kindness on me, too, and heal this wound on my face."

Everna, who looked somewhat pale compared to how she did just minutes back, scanned him from top to bottom and saw his reddened clothes and arms, "What's that blood on your hands?"

"Ah, nothing, ma'am," he replied, his head still bowed a little, "it's just the blood of a fox that I killed."

Everna squinted her eyes a bit, "Did you kill it for food?"

"No, ma'am, it was bothering me a lot by lingering around my booth, so I took care of it, and I sure as hell will either eat it or sell it for a good coin," Viktor's voice sounded certain.

Everna paused a moment. "Did you see the fox in the eyes before you slew it?"

"No, ma'am. Why are you asking me that?" Viktor lifted his head and looked at her in puzzlement.

"Because if you had done that, then things in your life may have turned out differently," she closed her eyes. "Let's go, Belu."

The turtle turned its direction and began to leave, startling Viktor. "Wait!" he stood immediately, "Ma'am, are you not going to heal me?"

"With you covered in barbaric blood, I don't feel like coming close to you much less heal you," Everna said, eyes still closed, and her voice exuding calmness. "Clean yourself and come find me again."

"Thank you, ma'am," Viktor bowed once more, "I'll come back quick." Saying that he left in haste, after which, the turtle resumed its walk at its usual pace.

Elsewhere on the same deck, a group of five people just stepped foot on the floor in a synchronized stomping while also rearranging their wigs to make them look perfect so that no eyes could easily doubt.

And the first thing the five of them examined were the faces of people who also recently got onto the deck and were holding their laughter as best as they could. It was apparent to those five as to why every new person they saw would later giggle behind their backs. After all, given the stature of the five men, not just anybody could dare directly laugh in front of their faces; howbeit, it was still quite embarrassing for those five brothers, in fact, it was arguably the biggest embarrassment they've ever faced but couldn't do anything about it with ease. It was only natural that their anger piled up in the past few hours like never before, and what's more, they were wholly fixed on whom to vent all that rage. It was also that hunger-killing hate which had made them breeze through the ice dumpster in their very next attempt, although the event got delayed because of the ruckus that happened in the hall.

One of them, the youngest one, momentarily rested his butt on a nearby sandy knoll while the others were busy exercising their eyes.

The five brothers were Hardy Brothers in the flesh, though they all carried minor wounds all over their bodies and looked considerably different from before thanks to the new wigs. Still, many people recognized those five not-so-distinctive faces with little to no effort.

To all those who sneered at them behind their backs, they responded with the no-look middle-finger gesture.

While at it, they stopped at no place and kept on looking for one and only one person—Lirzod. Upon finding out about his whereabouts from some hollows, they headed straight to the test hall.

......

[1] Loose Booth: A type of ownerless booth where free foods were stored at. Their quality is generally lower than that of Bread Booths, but sometimes the leftovers from upper decks get parceled down to these booths. Only in those times, everyone feasts in these booths. Generally, these booths were almost always filled with their own share of rotten food, so not just anybody could go near those booths. Animals, though, frequented these booths.

[2] Go for a burton: It means to die or to be missing(as per British Slang.)