Emerald was hunched over his pending records when a hand landed on his shoulder. "What brings you here this early? Don't you have any business to take care of?" he asked, not looking up.
"You know it's me, that's creepy," Genna replied, her voice soft.
"You know what's more creepy? A girl like you crawling around a teenager's life," Emerald shot back, the lingering anger from last night evident.
"Oops, that's surprising. Never thought I'd hear that. Got work, I guess," she said, her tone as calm as ever.
"If you have those 'so-called eyes,' I'm sure you can see what the fuck I'm doing," Emerald snapped, his frustration boiling over.
"Bro, come on, I was just joking," Genna said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"I don't feel like it."
"Why?" Genna pondered.
"Why did you run amok in my phone, madam?" Emerald asked, his voice now dangerously calm.
"I was just curious, that's all, and I sincerely apologize for that, kid. Anyway, I've got a place to hit. Tag along. Unlike yesterday, this one's no joke."
"That's the same old shit you said yesterday."
"No... I don't think so."
"Anyway, it's not an ordinary place. It's something peculiar to your interest."
Even though he hesitated at first, Emerald found himself standing, half-asleep, in front of a colossal, crumbling castle that seemed on the verge of collapsing into the earth. Genna, with a flourish, invited him inside to begin their tour. As Emerald followed her, he asked, "What's so interesting around here? It's just an abandoned castle in the middle of nowhere."
"Well, this is an old estate that belonged to some family, or rather, a couple, who met a rather tragic end," Genna replied, her voice echoing slightly in the grand entrance.
"Oh, another romantic tale," Emerald stated, his disinterest palpable.
"It's more than a romantic tale, if you can understand a little bit of what I'm about to say, then I'll agree you actually have a brain," she retorted, firm in her resolve to pique his interest.
"Hmm, good, I like it," Emerald conceded, just going along with her.
"In the eighteen hundreds, a man stumbled upon a ship carrying slaves. He was a man of high morality, so he intercepted the vessel and took the slaves into his custody. But they weren't slaves anymore. Continuing his journey, he eventually arrived here."
"So, where exactly are we?" Emerald asked, looking around the decaying interior.
"Oh, about that, we're in the forests of Virgin Komi," Genna replied.
"Where's that?" Emerald was utterly clueless.
Genna gave him an exasperated look. "What the hell do you even know? It's in Russia, one of the untouched forests in the entire world, dumbass! Pathetic, you are."
"Don't get so heated, madam. You should continue your narrative for me; being a lesser at some things doesn't mean you're a total loser," Emerald said, offering a surprisingly pleasant smile.
"He started a village here, a man who believed in eternal life. He had a wife. The harsh truth was that he was running from people who threatened his harmony with his beloved. Sadly, his wife died halfway through his journey to eternity."
"What happened? Did he kill her, or did the guys chasing him finally catch up?" Emerald pressed.
Genna merely looked at Emerald and continued walking, leading him down a long hallway past what looked like a grand dining hall. They reached a room, and Genna kicked open the rusted door. She walked further in, paused, and then showed him a picture. "Do you think the Dutch guy really killed her?" she asked.
Emerald looked at the portrait. "No, I don't think so," he replied, his voice thoughtful.
The picture was a magnificent portrait of the lady of the house. Unlike the decaying interiors of the castle, it was perfectly preserved, as pristine as it had been two centuries ago, and remarkably, it hadn't been burned. Emerald walked closer, trying to comprehend its beauty. It wasn't as aesthetically pleasing as he initially thought, yet it possessed something truly special… a heart within it. A heart filled with rage, pain, and much more. The entire portrait was dominated by a red, black, and white theme. But the red wasn't ordinary paint; it was pure blood, warm blood that had dried out over millions of seconds.
Emerald took a few steps back, his eyes still fixed on the portrait. "Those are not from a single source; there are too many," he murmured, his voice filled with a newfound intensity. "Tell me the truth, Genna, who was this Dutch man, and what happened to the slaves?"
(To be continued)