Ahmadi: [The mosque is on fire, but we can’t get out.] 12:50
Asha: [Someone set a fire. None of the doors at the mosque will open.] 12:51
Ahmadi: [Chazra, I think I’m going to see Father. I love you.] 13:15
Bashira: [The fire is swallowing me.] 13:11
Raina: [I’ll make it out alive, I promise. Mom loves you. 13:07]
Ahmadi: [I don’t think I can protect Asha. I’m sorry.] 13:18
Asha: [Chazra, you can live without me, right? I’m sorry.] 13:12
Bashira: [Allah in heaven, we are coming to You.] 13:01
Asha: [We’re not going to make it, so you have to live strong.] 13:16
Asha: [Ahmadi says the door is blocked. What should I do?] 12:49
Asha: [Chazra, I miss you.] 12:53
Ahmadi: [People are dying, and there is nothing I can do.] 13:11
Asha: [What about our Little Love? Dad, Mom, I miss you.] 13:10
Asha: [Chazra, thank you for marrying me.] 13:17
Asha: [Ahmadi won't say anything to me.] 11:14
The jumbled timestamps only added to the chaos.
Chazra wasn't even sure if he was seeing what he was seeing, or if he was seeing it correctly.
As he crumbled under the weight of the unbelievable,
one last message caught his eye, piercing through the blur.
Asha: [I’m breaking up with you now. You’ve been such a jerk lately.] 13:21
The world’s switch flicked off.
The biting wind slapping his cheeks,
the raindrops mixed with sleet,
the peaceful sound of hymns drifting out from inside the church—
none of the noise reached him.
His senses evaporated into a white void.
When consciousness returned, he was gripping the steering wheel of a speeding car.
Fragments of memory surfaced here and there.
Someone seemed to have tried to stop him.
A sharp, high-pitched ringing pierced through his ears.
But none of that mattered.
Like a madman, he called his family again and again.
Silence, without even a dial tone.
Chazra stomped on the accelerator as if he meant to crush it.
Artistea’s calm voice echoed inside the car.
“Reject.”
“Reject!”
“I said reject it!!!!!”
Chazra screamed, slamming his fist onto the steering wheel.
“Jerome? If it's Jerome... pick up for now.”
“Chazra? You crazy bastard!!!
Where are you?
What the hell are you doing?
You dared to point a gun at a civilian?
You even fired live rounds?!
Hey! What are you doing!
Where are you going, abandoning your men like this?!”
The stream of curses and shouts from Jerome barely brushed the surface of Chazra’s eardrums.
“Jerome. I’m sorry. I’m in a hurry right now.”
“That’s why! You have to! Tell me! What the hell! Is so urgent! So I can! Understand!!! You idiot!!!
GPS tracking is starting on you, so be ready! Your own men are coming to hunt you down, you bastard!!”
“Sorry.”
Click. Chazra hung up just like that.
Only then did the gaps in his memory begin to stitch back together.
A deserted church parking lot.
A civilian about to get into a car.
Himself running toward the man and pointing a gun.
When the man hesitated, he had fired a live round into the air,
snatched the car keys from the terrified man, and climbed inside.
The scene of his soldiers, startled by the gunshot,
restraining church staff and forcing them to stay down,
and the sight of his subordinates,
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
horrified as they witnessed their CO threatening a civilian,
turning their muzzles toward him.
“Captain! Captain! What are you doing...”
Leaving their cries behind, he simply hit the accelerator.
That was it.
“Arti, set the address to the mosque where my family is and give me directions.”
“Damn it!!!”
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Chazra slammed the steering wheel like a madman.
“From now on, do not take any calls that aren't from my family. Don't even say a word, just hang up. Got it?”
Chazra accelerated until the needle on the speedometer looked like it would snap.
Dark clouds loomed outside the window,
and winter rain began to fall—softly at first, then turning into a downpour.
Just a moment ago, he had wished for the rain to stop for the sake of his men.
Now, Chazra desperately prayed for this rain—this cursed rain—to pour down over that mosque.
'Harder. Even harder.
Pour down enough to swallow all the flames.
Pour harder, even harder.
Pour until everything is swept away.
Please, please, please...'
This couldn't be happening.
The world shouldn't be this cruel to him.
The faces of those who had bullied him flashed through his mind.
He had spent his whole life enduring their words and actions.
If he resisted, he was hit; even if he stayed still, he was hit.
They never came alone.
He was always alone.
Again. And again.
In his hellish life, his family—and Asha—were the only salvation he was ever granted.
'Are You going to take even that away now? God?
Just what kind of a being is He to be this cruel to me?
Filthy bastard. Arrogant jerk. You son of a...'
Did He hear his inner thoughts?
The rain was gradually weakening.
Chazra had no choice but to fall deeper into despair at that fact.
'Does a thing called God even exist? If He does,
He’s nothing more than a voyeur.
What has He ever done for those who cry out His name and scream for salvation?
What more am I supposed to do?
Not believing?
If He’s going to punish me for that, shouldn't He be punishing me?
Why is He punishing the people who pray to Him?'
“Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!”
The sound of Artistea’s voice reached him just as Chazra was losing his sanity.
“Yeah, that. Artistea? What did the person who made that call it?
A God for a new era? What can that thing even do?
What the hell can a piece of junk like you!! actually do!!!!”
“I said reject everyone who isn't family...”.
Chazra’s bloodshot eyes finally recognized the name on the screen.
Zaydan. His brother.
“Ah, con...nect it.”
Chazra’s voice cracked as he realized who was on the other end.
“Chazra!! Why is it so hard to reach you! Where are you? Are you in the middle of training?”
Zaydan’s urgent voice erupted through the receiver.
“Brother!!”
Chazra felt as if he might vomit from the surge of rising emotions.
“You heard, right? I’m on my way. You get here fast, too!”
Zaydan’s voice, too, was unable to contain the overflowing emotion.
“I’m going. I still have about an hour left. How much longer for you?”
Chazra pressed the accelerator even deeper.
The engine screamed.
“About 40 minutes. Please, as long as there's no traffic... please.”
The short call cut off with a click.
“Arti! Keep calling until someone in my family picks up!”
But all that came back was despair.
Artistea’s clear, gentle voice was hacking away at his sliver of hope.
“Damn it!!”
Bang! Bang!
No matter how hard he slammed the wheel,
he couldn't even feel the bone-shaking pain.
The sense of helplessness,
that he could do nothing at a time like this, was driving him insane.
The advancement of civilization, a great being that would shake human life—
what use were all those grand descriptions now?
Just a collection of scrap metal that couldn't even deliver the voice of his own family.
It was then.
“Is that you, Chazra?”
A gruff, low voice echoed inside the car.
Chazra’s eyes rolled back.
“I told you not to connect anyone who isn't family!”
“It’s been a while, Chazra. It’s me.”
It was a familiar voice.
The man he had searched for and longed to see for the past year.
Zahir. His father.
Chazra forgot how to breathe for a moment.
His brain froze, and his tongue went stiff.
At that voice, reaching his ears after a year,
the world that had been spinning out of control came to a halt as if by a lie.
“...Father?”
“Yes. It is me. You seem busy.”
At that one nonchalant sentence,
Chazra forgot where he was going and why.
His feet reacted before his brain.
Screech—!
The tires screamed, clawing at the asphalt.
The car swayed violently as it came to a halt.
If the seatbelt hadn't tightly pinned him to his seat,
he would have smashed his head into the windshield.
“Shut up!”
Chazra’s heavy breathing was the only sound in the car.
Then, a low sigh came from his father over the phone.
“Is that Artistea?”
“Father! What on earth happened! How much we searched for you...!
Where are you now? Are you okay?
And right now... something terrible is happening!
The mosque is on fire! So right now...!”
Chazra poured out his words through his sobs.
There was a mountain of things he wanted to say and ask,
but for now, the fear that his family was dying in the inferno had swallowed his reason.
There was also a mix of blind expectation that if it were his father, surely there would be a way.
But the answer that came back was utterly dry.
Chazra bit his lip, waiting for what his father would say next.
“I cannot speak in detail. I am sorry.
It seems you have something urgent,
but I don't have much leeway on my end either.
For now, as you can hear, I am alive.
I am still in CIA custody, but it seems I won't be able to leave for a while.
By the way… did you find the treasure?”
Chazra’s thoughts came to a standstill.
Treasure?
It was an incomprehensible word.
While his family was on the brink of being wiped out,
he was talking about treasure.
“I don't know about that! Right now, Grandmother, Mother, Ahmadi, and Asha are dying in a fire! What on earth are you doing there!”
Chazra screamed at the top of his lungs.
It was then.
From the other end of the line, very faint but clear, another man’s voice was heard.
(He doesn't know about the treasure... hang up.)
Click.
The call was cut off.
“Father? Hello? Father!”
Chazra tried to press the call button again with trembling hands,
but not even a dial tone would go through.
A number that no longer connected.
There were so many incomprehensible things in the world.
He felt as if a giant wall were closing in around him.
Still, the calls to the rest of his family remained dead.
He had to pull himself together.
If he broke down now, it was truly the end of everything.
Chazra roughly wiped his tears with his sleeve and pressed the ignition button again.
Screech, bang!
With a metal-grinding explosion, the engine screamed back to life.
Thank you for being here.