Undoing it? Is it a prank?

Kôra kept himself seated. His tea was halfway finished; it would get lukewarm soon. No need to fall into this man’s scheme, he thought.

“Chickening out? I thought you were curious,” Keane mocked. “Reaching the truth requires courage, you know?”

How the man tilted his head and smile boiled Kôra’s blood. That belittling face deserved a punch. After the spurious claim he made the boy believe, Kôra thought he might deserve two or three punches. Counting how he acted two days before and it rounded into five. Yet, the man was right; no matter how willing Kôra was to uncover the truth, it all measured to nothing without courage. Provoked to prove himself, Kôra put down his cup and finished his lemon puff biscuit. The boy stood up, albeit feeling nervous; he needed a second affirmation before making a move. Kôra approached Keane across from him and started undoing the bandage from the side. It felt awkward, unnerving; it discomfited him. He could feel the breath, the warmth, and all living signs from the man.

“Excuse me."

“Careful, it might fall off.”

That boy found the warning menacing, but Keane might be bluffing. He kept unwinding the gauze until it became loose, looser, and. . .

Thump!

The head fell down to Keane’s lap, a whole decapitated head. It turned up on its own facing Kôra, smiling.

Kôra sprung back like a terrified animal by the abhorrent surprise. He sat with his knees up on the sofa in a defensive position. Holding the cushion pillow as a shield, while he pacified his rushed breathing. Keane’s amused sound of laughter followed it.

“What are you?!!”

“I’m a fairy,” Keane answered after his laughter faded. The head’s jaw was unmoving, but Kôra could hear his voice clearly. “Didn't she tell you about us?”

“The headless dark fairy who curses people and makes things from dead bodies?”

“I am, but I’m not,” he declaimed. “I’m half human.” Before Kôra could question how the hybridization works, the creature then made his head vanish in a blink of an eye. Nothing that Kôra realized except that the head is gone.

“Where is your head at?!” Kôra panicked, wary that this man would play a jump scare trick.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Would you please look for it?"

“Enough joking!” Kôra turned his back to leave. “I am going to—”

Only to find Keane’s floating head already right in front of his face. Just one inch from the boy’s nose, grinning with his prominent fangs. A close-up of a frightful creature; frigid and breathless. 

“AAH!” he cried from pure shock. His heartbeats nearly exploded. Kôra knocked the head with a cushion pillow nearby, it was sent flying for a meter or two before his eyes lost track of it. As the head disappeared once again, the boy secured himself on the sofa to catch some breaths. 

“Huff. . . Lucky I have no heart problem! Is this fairy culture? Hah. . . Are you proud?!” he chastised the headless body sitting in front of him, still panting. “Where is your flying head?! Do put it back and stop joking!!!”

“Why? It’s called entertainment. Never refuse a fairy’s hospitality,” Keane taunted, only the voice without a form. “You worked in a farm and led a boring life,didn’t you? You must be sad like that cabbage in your farm."

“It is not funny, I am not cabbage!”

“Anyway, this is my truer form,” Keane closed. His head was already cradled in his arms. “Get used to it.”

Kôra stared at him aghast.

“Come on, prepare yourself! Some real heads will roll later like this! I guarantee!” Keane rolled his on the carpeted floor, posing as if he did a bowling throw. “Or —this is the most exciting part— you make them roll!”

“No! I have seen enough dead and horrific scene because of earthquake, it is never something to be make normal of,” Kôra contemplated. “Suffering is not good for people and being calm about it is against God's virtue! I want less suffering."

“You can’t; that earthquake is just a happy beginning, Cabbage,” Keane remarked while moving his head on the sofa. “I appreciate your noble outlook, but prepare for the worst.”

“The earthquake is just the beginning?” Kôra reiterated. “What do you mean? Do you know about it?”

“The official statement said it’s because of tectonic plate activity.”

“I know?! Many of these lines do not make circle. Do tell me another version!” the boy insisted. There must be more than what meets the eye about said tragedy.

“Somebody caused it for sure, we all know; Haren doesn’t want you to overthink it,” the head answered, inciting a questioning face from Kôra. “Who? Who knows! Maybe the spirits, maybe not.”

Or maybe. . . It has something to do with me? Kôra looked down at his hand, he remembered the chaotic incident two days ago. Control my ability; l am capable of destruction, correct? What if it was me, but I cannot remember? What if. . .

"It wasn't you." There was a sound of Keane clicking his tongue to Kôra’s dismal look. “That’s one reason he doesn’t want me to tell you everything.”

“Just because of it?”

“Just it.”

“You are disappointing,” the boy complained.

“Haren told me to do so for your sake,” Keane uttered. He picked up his head and put it on his neck, then started talking like a human being. “You’d like to obey him, wouldn’t you? Else you’ll be a disappointment.” He fastened the bandage, smirking.

Kôra nodded weakly.

“Right," he dejectedly agreed. He was right. After all things happened to Uncle, it felt wrong to disobey him.

“For now just don't think about it.” Keane picked up his smartphone. “What do you want for dinner, Cabbage?”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Tonight’s dinner was extraordinary, Kôra wanted to eat pizza as he had never tried it before. It tasted up to its reputation, and he greatly appreciated this richly topped round flat bread. Keane too feasted upon the Italian dish. He even explained at a great length to the boy what are the ingredients used to make it, and the fusion of Tôryaemaen food reflected in some topping options. For example, Kôra’s pizza consisted of smoked salamander meat combined with Italian pizza sauce and cheese for the topping. The fairy went to grab a bottle of liquor and a can of carbonated petal tea for Kôra from the refrigerator. Kôra thanked him. As they interacted more, he felt similar humanity beyond judgment of exterior and pretense. It bore some thoughts in his mind; as he gazed at his freshly changed bandage.

“Well, Keane. . .” Kôra stacked the pizza boxes and picked up the spicy sauces that he could keep for later use. “I am going to tell you something, do you have time?”

“Go on, Cabbage,” Keane allowed him to talk while opening a bottle of whiskey, serving it neat into a rocks glass.

Kôra knows a bit about the alcoholic beverage, a common one in his mother’s homeland. It surprised Kôra a little of how the Earth beverage was that common in the city. Another bigger surprise was how he just drank it in the middle of talking in front of a minor; Kôra wondered if it was a different culture or just a different manner. The boy did not really mind, as long as this guy can handle it well unlike his uncle.

“Keane, are spirits real?”

“I don’t know, is god real?”

“I am serious!” Kôra grew impatient. “Do dead people really have power to torment living people because of their grudges?”

Keane thought for a second after his sip. “You can answer it yourself.”

“I realized it is maybe about myself; something is trying to get me,” Kôra opened the explanation, setting his annoyance aside. “Yesterday evening, he made me choke myself.” He touched his neck.

“How?”

“He tricked me just by look, he showed himself as hanged man,” Kora continued. “He is human exactly looks like me but I think he can change, uncle saw him changing into man with long hair and two color eyes.”

“Please elaborate,” Keane seemed attentive. Kôra noticed the guy taking note on his phone, before taking another gulp of his liquor.

“That something playing foul with Uncle too, he caused nightmares and uncle got his mind hurt over it. Uncle told me to ignore the man, and saying things about the spirits,” Kôra expanded his story. “I think that’s the other reason Uncle trusting me to you, be careful.”

Keane nodded. “He won’t be a problem for me; you though, be careful.”

“I actually have bit of question. Um. . . More exactly, something to say,” Kôra stated. “I afraid to tell Uncle this not to stress him.”

“Go on.” Keane put the empty bottle below the coffee table.

“I do not know his goal, Uncle said not to trust him but he said something. . . He tried to convince me of a thing.”

“What is it?”

“He said I am not one of you. I am not one of what I thought as my people,” Kôra rubbed his left eye that gets itchy all of sudden, before continuing. “He said we are the same people. . .”

Keane listened with a tense face.

“But my people—my real people, they are all dead he said. . .” Kôra recalled. “He is dead and I look familiar to him. He wants me to cooperate.”

Keane nodded, his eyes widened.

“That means I am dead too. . .? Am I?”

The fairy took another sip before answering: “You are.”

“Is he telling the truth?”

“Most likely.”

Kôra’s eyes lightened up. It was expected yet still exhilarating to him that this creature might have vast knowledge about his background. The brown-haired boy did not mind being pranked and duped anymore, as long as he has a knowledge resource to extract from.

“. . . Then you know him? You must know who am I? Why I was dead? Why I am alive? You know, right?” Kôra barraged with questions. He stood up and leaned towards Keane, up close to the liquor-smelling face.

“I don’t.”

“Do not hide things. . . This is important very! Crutical!” the fervor made him mixed up words.

“I do not. Why would I do something against my mission’s success?”

It sent Kôra back dejected, falling flat faster than a blink. The silence got swallowed by the sound of liquid pouring, while Kôra left with nothing to chew on. Everything left enough marks for the confounded boy, who was trying to digest the empty expectations. It was all not what he thought; this man knew many things, but not everything, and nothing of his needs.

“Does he only appear from the mirror?” Keane’s question broke Kôra’s thought.

“Yes.”

“Good. Avoid looking at any mirror.” He kept drinking.

“Why good? What is actually about mirrors?”

“Mirror or any reflective surface is their only known medium to our world. Spirits will tether easier to those who are related to them, remind them of something important in their lives, or just weak,” he explained. “They can’t harm you, but they can influence you to do harm. The longer they’re tethered, the stronger they are.”

A drop of cold sweat ran on the boy’s cheek. The last part was worrisome. “What do I do, then?”

“Don’t be weak,” he said this one with a teasing smile. “Do as your uncle said, control yourself.”

“What if he appears again?”

“Ignore his advances but listen to his words carefully, never act or decide from it, and report everything to me,” Keane instructed. “No matter how convincing it is, take everything he says with a grain of salt.”

“But you said he tells truth.”

The fairy showed his dumbfounded expression for a split second, as if the boy uttered something brainless. “There must be other intentions behind his words, you twit,” he elaborated with a pressure in his voice, and in how he put his glass down. “Good liars make their lies sound like the truth, great liars use the truth to convey their lies.”

Kôra nodded, those sentences made a point. He thought Keane probably used the bogus backstory to test him, which he failed. There are numerous aspects between speculations and calculations to him to think of; . How vacuous he was to think everything will be straightforwardly unraveled for him. He started with confirming a thing.

“If I can ask, what are your intentions with me? Why did you let me stay even you do not want it first?”

“I’m just doing my mission to help two pathetic things,” he replied before a finishing guzzle straight from the bottle.

"Mission? What kind of organization are you in?"

"A non-profit organization;  like those that save animals or prevent human trafficking," he answered between gulps.

Kôra raised his eyebrow. “And what kind of liar are you?”

“A mediocre one,” the fairy lifted his empty bottle with a smile of an artificial sweetener, before putting it below the table.