The evening sun hung low, casting a reddish glow over Akeh's home, a modest building with walls that seemed to barely hold up against the elements.
Despite the obvious poverty, there's a sense of lived-in warmth, evidence of a family trying to make the best out of what little they have.
Beatrice stood hesitantly at the doorway of Akeh's room, her bare feet quiet against the worn floorboards. She clutched the hem of her faded shirt, twisting the fabric between her fingers like a child holding onto something steady. She had been standing there for a while, listening to the soft rustle of Akeh moving inside, trying to gather the courage to speak.
The weight in the room wasn't just his... it pressed on her chest too. This dambe match wasn't just another fight. It was their only shot to claw their way out of poverty. And Akeh knew it.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked lightly.
"Akeh?"
Inside, Akeh sat on the edge of his bed, wrapping his right hand tightly in cloth for the dambe championship that was just hours away. His brows furrowed in concentration, his hot temper subdued by the weight of the fight ahead.
"What is it Beatrice?"
He asked, not looking up. His voice was harsh.
Beatrice took a small step inside, her feet making soft sounds on the cracked floor. Her blue eyes... a very rare, almost startling shade in a place like Africa... caught the light as she finally stepped in. People always stared at them, unsure whether to call them beautiful or strange.
"I wanted to know if you were ready."
She said, her voice quiet but filled with sincerity.
"I know this fight is really important so you must be very nervous."
Akeh snorted, still focused on his hands. "Have I ever been nervous about anything?"
"Mhm… it might seem that way but I know you well. You hesitate when something is important."
Akeh finally looked up, his intense eyes locking with hers.
"I don't do that anymore, this is a chance to make our lives better. I won't fail because of some stupid hesitation."
Beatrice suddenly felt a sudden ache in her chest, hearing the weight of responsibility in his voice. She knew Akeh felt like the entire family's future rested on his shoulders, and that was crushing him, even if he would never admit it. She moved closer, sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, watching him wrap his hand with precision.
"If you win, I think I'll finally be able to chase my dream of becoming a webtoon artist…"
Akeh gave a low chuckle, "That's a small dream…"
Finally, he looked at her again, gaze steady.
"Don't worry about it, I'll make sure we get to do what we want."
Beatrice nodded, standing up and smoothing her shirt, the shyness creeping back into her demeanor.
"You better keep that promise. Now hurry up, or you'll miss your match."
Akeh stood up, rolling his shoulders and grabbing his bag as he exited his room. His father encouraged him as he walked through the small living room. His father always believed in him, and always saw the talent in Akeh. His mother peeked out from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.
"Be careful, Akeh. We'll be waiting for you here when you come back."
Akeh gave them a nod before heading to the front door. Beatrice stood by the door, opening it just as Akeh approached. Beatrice glanced up, her face unusually still.
"Good luck, brother."
Something about her tone struck him as odd, but he brushed it off. He had a fight to focus on.
The air outside was thick and humid as Akeh left the house, his feet carrying him to the venue. Hours later, after a grueling fight, he stood in the ring, his chest heaving, face bruised and bloodied. He had lost. The bitter taste of defeat clung to him as he limped home.
As he approached his home, something felt wrong. The windows were dark, and an unnatural stillness clung to the air. He pushed the door open, and the sight that met him made his blood run cold.
His father lay still on the floor, his body drenched in blood. His mother stood near the wall, her face pale, as if frozen in shock.
And there was Beatrice, kneeling over their father, a bloodied knife in her hand, stabbing again and again with a strange, eerie precision.
Akeh's breath caught in his throat.
"Beatrice!" he roared, rushing toward her.
His sister paused mid-stab, her eyes lifting to meet his. But something was different. Her gaze was cold, calculating, filled with an unsettling calm. It wasn't Beatrice looking back at him.
Akeh stopped dead in his tracks, heart pounding in disbelief.
"What… what are you doing?" his voice was barely above a whisper, torn between anger and horror.
Beatrice tilted her head, an unsettling smile creeped across her face, "He's dead already, Akeh." she said, her voice low and detached.
"I'm surprised how long it took to regain memories of my past life, but even so…"
Akeh stumbled back, his mind reeling. The memories she spoke of, the way she moved, none of it was his sister. Something darker had taken root in her, something that had lived and killed before.
His mother remained motionless, unable to move or speak. The weight of what had happened pressed down on Akeh, suffocating him, as he stared at the blood stained floor, unable to comprehend how everything had gone so horribly wrong.