Chapter 81: PAUL: Loser

The wooden shogi board was a nine by nine grid, and the pieces were carved with kanji characters denoting their rank. John took a sip of his ale, then leaned in to study the board, his weathered gloves on the verge of his picking his next move. His opponent was Kazi. Everybody watched with rapt interest.

Who was winning? Paul certainly didn’t know. Their pieces clicked and clicked onto the board. Each move cemented just how little Paul understood the game. Sun-young and John had explained it to him and William, but only Kazi understood the gist the rules.

William leaned over to whisper to him, “Any idea what’s going on?”

’Something, something, lances, gold generals, and silver generals. Hell if I know.’

Paul just shrugged and William pursed his lips.

Click-clack! John took one of Kazi’s pieces.

Unaffected by the move, Kazi said, “Guess who I saw on the way?”

It wasn’t John who replied but William. “Who?”

“Nash. One of his cronies was there with him too. But only one. Tony, the bald guy.”

William snorted. “I guess they couldn’t afford to get everyone in.”

“I wish Marta was here with us.” Casually, Kazi moved another piece. “Alas, this gate was really expensive. Say, John, how did you get all your points?”

John didn’t immediately respond, too focused on the game. “I had some luck in Gates 1 and 5.”

“Nice! We did pretty good in Gate 6. Oh, and checkmate.”

John inhaled sharply. “It’s Tsumi.”

Kazi grinned. “Good to know. Tsumi!”

He played Sun-young next but that match lasted less than a minute. In the aftermath, Sun-young was muttering to himself, something about, “This is totally different from janggi.”

Yeah, Paul didn’t know what was up with her. During play, she would often make errors involving the movement of pieces. There was a good chance she was stupid.

Leather boots stomped beside them. Thick cologne buzzed their noses, belonging to a masculine source in a thick red tunic with undone buttons at the top, revealing a small portion of his hairy chest. “Yo.” Hugo Sánchez arrived and nudged at John to move. “Can I try?”

John got off his seat and let Hugo replace him. “By all means, try and beat the master.”

“I will,” Hugo replied.

Slicked back hair and those damn earrings. It was like a fickle light that wouldn’t go away. The last time Paul saw them, there was one on each ear. Now there were three. What was going on? And why did Paul feel so uneasy?

“I’ve never played so you’ll have to teach me.”

Kazi blinked twice. “Uh, sure, I don’t mind.”

’What was with the bravado if you didn’t know how to play?’ Paul asked in his head.

“Trust me.” Hugo smirked. “I never lose.”

Ten minutes passed. Pieces were moved and noises of frustration came forth.

“This is rigged.” Hugo shook his head and back handed the air. He avoided looking at the picture of defeat in front of him. “Yep, rigged.”

“I think you’re just not good at this,” said Kazi.

“Wow, you’re…blunt.” Hugo leaned back and crossed his arms. “And I refuse to accept that. I’m a winner. I don’t lose.”

“Except just now.”

“Except now,” Hugo agreed. “This doesn’t count. Is there another game we can play?”

“There should be some at the conductor’s,” said Kazi. “Wanna come in and see which you can play.”

“By all means, amigo.”

Kazi seemed to pull everyone to his whims. It was like everyone couldn’t help but enjoy his presence. Left alone, the atmosphere dimmed again. If Sun-young hadn’t raised a question, it might have died off entirely.

“You know him?” she asked.

John smiled. “Indeed. I have encountered many players but there are few that I would claim to be truly powerful. Hugo Sánchez is one of those players. He and I and one other player fought against the Slime Queen together. We split ways after the battle but I will never forget them for as long as I live. I have met a lot of fighters in my life. I have boxed and fenced. In everything I have seen in my life, Hugo Sánchez stands above the riff-raff.”

Sun-young and William glanced over at Hugo’s direction.

’Okay?’ Was that supposed to be impressive? He did look old. Tall and gentlemanly too. ’What, was he like a spy or something?’

John looked the part, that was for sure.

“You mentioned one other,” William pointed out. “Is he here?”

“Why, yes.” A twinkle appeared in his eye. “But perhaps it is best for you to figure it out.”

“Aw, come on! That’s cheating!”

“It’s called being careful with your information,” John replied.

“Attention, attention passengers, this is conductor Danzaburou speaking! Listen up carefully because this is very important. Ahem!” Paul leaned back, listening closely. “Dessert is ready! I repeat: dessert is ready! Come to the dining compartment to be served cake and other goodies.”

Looks were exchanged, following sighs.

“Sweets, hm? Anybody going?” asked John.

Sun-young immediately stood up. “I will.”

“Meh, might as well,” William chimed in. He looked to Paul and John. “You two?”

Paul enjoyed eating sugary stuff. However, he preferred to eat it alone. “I’m okay,” he said.

“Pass. I have diabetes,” said John.

William’s face scrunched up. “Wait, does that even—”

“I would rather not risk it,” John interjected. “Now, move along. I see others are also vying for it.”

A man in a tuxedo walked past them, hands in his pockets. Sun-young took a second to wait and then followed. William wasn’t too far behind.

Now it was just Paul and John, side-by-side. The awkward silence was palpable. Thank god for Kazi. He and Hugo arrived in the nick of time.

“Hey, yo! Guess who I saw?” Kazi sat down with a grin, as did Hugo, the latter looking almost disoriented. “Guess, guess!”

“Uh…” Paul went blank. “Obama?”

“No, not Obama. It’s Ari!”

Crickets. Paul looked at John for help. Nothing.

“Sorry, I don’t keep up with celebrities,” John admitted.

’Me neither.’

“Ari, the singer! She’s a Korean idol!” Kazi looked at the two like they were crazy. “No? Aw.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it. People were asking for her autograph, especially the tanukis. Really weird.” Hugo shrugged. “Her eyelashes were super long though. Like sheesh, I was almost tempted to see if they were real.”

Kazi gave him a judgy side-eye. “Really, dude?”

“Oh, come on! You can’t tell you’ve never wanted to splash a bucket of water over a chick to see if she was made of makeup, o-or to see if her hair is a wig!”

John looked concerned. So did Paul and he didn’t think himself the type to get invested in stupid conversations.

“Stop looking at me weird!”

Everybody turned silent when the compartment door opened and who Paul presumed was the aforementioned idol.

It was strange though. While she was bright and pretty, he didn’t think she came close to Kazi. There was something missing in her eyes.

“Hi!” Kazi waved at her. Ari smiled and waved back. Otherwise, she didn’t speak and went on her way. Porcelain skin, expressive eyes, lustrous onyx hair framing her face and falling over her back, and delicate features and clothes. Her gaze regarded each of them, with Paul noticing the small beauty mark under her left eye.

She was a vision. She radiated a kind of energy an ordinary person like himself would never be able to imitate. In a crowd, she would stand out. In this world, in this train, she stood out. Even so…

’I’m not going crazy, am I?’ He peeked at Kazi, then back to Ari. ’There’s…something missing in her smile.’

She left without a word and Paul watched her every step of the way.

“I’m going to get a bucket of water,” Hugo said. “She’s gotta be plastic.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t.” A sigh. “I believe I am going to get some dessert, after all.”

“Me too,” Paul muttered.

Ignoring Hugo wasn’t difficult when Kazi had him occupied. Thank god for him, he was a life saver. Since they were in the fourth high-class compartment, the dining compartment was a single door away.

There was Ari, the dark man in the tuxedo—Booker Davis Jr—William, and of course, Sun-young. She carried with her a massive double-sundae that was melting by the second.

’Yep. She’s a certified weirdo.’

That much ice cream was suicide. His trucker coworkers used to make fun of this one overweight man that ate too many brownies. If Sun-young was in his stead, they would have been rolling on the floor trying to insult her.

Hiding behind John, Paul joined the line leading up to the bar counter where the ice cream was being served. A black tanuki with the name Kintaro leapt up and down between sections as he mounted a cone.

“Here you go.” Jesus, Kintaro’s voice was deep. “Double scoop, chocolate and strawberry, for the wonderful Pauline.”

The thin woman with the silky black hair, Pauline, appreciated the hand out and went back. Pauline’s eyes flickered as she went past Paul, probably recognizing him from their time at Gate 2.

Next up to replace Pauline was Ksenia Stárová, the woman with the muscular arms and shoulders. Ahead of Paul and John were two familiar Templars, Emma and Samuel. Helmets hid their faces. He wondered how they would eat.

“I want the mochi stuff. Twenty of them.”

“Mochi,” Kintaro repeated. “Consider it done, ma’am.”

Coolly, the tanuki hopped down, opened what sounded to be a mini-fridge, and came back up with a bowl of small round confection. It didn’t look like ice cream, that was for sure.

“Perfect! Is this authentic?” Ksenia asked.

“As authentic as my fur,” Kintaro replied. “Enjoy.”

Ksenia grinned and swooped the bowl away. He didn’t mean to but he caught a better look at what was inside. Twenty confections, decently sized, and way too much sugar for a normal woman.

Unfortunately, Paul looked for too long and Ksenia caught his eye. She squinted, judging him, and then went along on her merry way. Paul pretended nothing happened even as he felt her glance back at him repeatedly.

He also pretended not to notice when Ksenia approached Pauline and whispered to her. “Hey, that guy…”

He tuned them out. He pretended that they weren’t gossiping about him. He pretended they weren’t pointing out all his little flaws.

Bad poster, dead eyes, Paul felt out of place here. Everywhere Kazi went, he brought light. He brought joy and forged connections. Paul…was just baggage. The shadow weighing everyone down.

He could hear Ksenia whisper to Pauline, “He’s such a loser…”

Paul shut his eyes. ’Yeah, I know. I’m ugly, I’m stupid, I get it, I get it—’

“…he’s just my type.”

’Wait…what?’

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