The Devil’s Cage

In a coffee shop outside the museum, Kieran met the curator.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. 2567.”

“I’m Porl Nelson, the curator of the exhibition. I apologize for meeting you earlier than previously agreed upon.”

A well-dressed man with neatly combed white hair and beard stood in front of Kieran, extending his right hand politely.

“It’s okay,” Kieran shook his hand and invited him to sit.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“Should we proceed with the interview like we previously discussed, or have you changed your mind?” Eckart asked.

“Plain water will do.”

“We’ll just proceed with what we have agreed upon. Changing the time is already my fault; if I were to change anything else, I’m afraid my guilt will prevent me from sleeping,” the old curator joked.

The little joke instantly reduced the distance between the curator and everyone around the coffee table. The slightly strange and unfamiliar atmosphere was swept away as well.

“Waiter, here.”

“A glass of warm water, a cup of tea, and a black coffee.”

Eckart called the waiter and ordered drinks for himself, Kieran, and the curator.

After the beverages were served, Eckart signaled for the lights and camera to be ready.

The lighting man and cameraman quickly got into position.

Eckart looked at the old curator again, and after the latter gave the green light, Eckart moved his microphone over.

Eckart once again acted as a temporary host for the show again.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t find any suitable host on the TV station though.

In fact, as the ‘Shaman’ show gained popularity, the number of hosts applying for the position was as many as the carps moving down the stream.

Eckart, however, would not simply hand over his show to someone else.

In simpler words, there wasn’t one of his ‘own’ among all the applicants.

Mistakes shouldn’t be repeated. Eckart reminded himself not to make the same mistakes twice.

Likewise, to play the role of temporary host properly, Eckart spent quite the effort in learning as well, at least his manner of speech wasn’t as stiff as it was in the first episode.

“Good day ladies and gentlemen, today our show has the pleasure of inviting the curator of Rain City Museum, Mr. Porl Nelson…”

After a standard introduction, both of them started to converse, and the topic was quickly shifted to the Curseman Vase.

Porl Nelson then talked about the history behind the vase in front of the camera.

Eckart would also ask questions from time to time. Of course, the subjects were selected beforehand, they wouldn’t place the curator in an ugly position, but they were also enough to satisfy the curiosity of the audience.

The interview progressed at a decent pace.

However, throughout the process, Kieran didn’t utter a single word. He sat on the sofa in black clothes, his hand was on the armrest, and the other hand was supporting his face. He looked like an outsider or an observer from the start, but the camera never left Kieran out of frame.

It was Eckart’s special request, though. He and the curator were just garnishing, Kieran was the main dish. So, the lights and camera mostly focused on Kieran.

Because of that, Kieran, who seemingly casually sat on the sofa, looked like he merged with the darkness under the backlight and yet his facial features were visible, making him look extraordinarily mysterious but not hateful.

After the recording session went on for about 20 minutes, Eckart, who noticed the tiredness in the curator’s face, called for a rest.

The show this time wasn’t a live broadcast but pre-recorded.

This means it had to go through editing and post-production before it could be aired, so it was much more flexible.

“Do you need a break?” Eckart asked out of concerned.

The curator was almost as old as his grandfather, so it was natural for Eckart to show respect and care.

“I’m sorry, my age is getting the best of me,” the curator said in a bitter smile.

“We’ll take half an hour rest then.”

Because the recording was moved ahead, the process was actually entirely free as time was abundant since Eckart wasn’t a strict person, he knew how to arrange the time.

“Take a rest, huh?”

“Well, this place suits me more.”

Kieran shook his head at Eckart’s invitation to go out of the coffee shop and closed his eyes.

Eckart shrugged. He was delighted with his collaborator, other than the scary expressions occasionally, Kieran was living an apostolic lifestyle.

If Eckart didn’t know that Kieran had no religious beliefs, he might take him as a devoted believer of some kind.

Now?

A ‘weird’ person was all he could comment on.

As Eckart’s footsteps went away, Kieran, who seemingly closed his eyes, was actually having questions in his heart.

He left a seam opened on his eyelids and could clearly see the curator, Porl Nelson, across from him, closing his eyes for a rest as well.

However, his eyelids were moving, meaning his eyeballs were also moving. The curator was thinking, not resting.

Similarly, Kieran didn’t sense any tiredness in the curator, he was just pretending to be tired.

“Why would he do it?” Kieran thought in his heart.

Kieran’s mind then reminded him of that scrawny man who ran from security and the several malicious gazes he picked up from the visitors.

Could it be…

A bold thought appeared in Kieran’s mind.

“Curator Nelson, can I ask you a question?” Kieran spoke suddenly.

“What is it? And, just call me Porl.”

“But if you must address me by my surname name because of some rules, it’s also fine. It’s my first time meeting a shaman, I don’t know what I should do.”

The curator opened his eyes and smiled at Kieran.

“Porl, shamans are just like everyone else. Other than some particular gifts, there is nothing special about us.”

Kieran sounded casual, but his hand on the armrest subtly sent a signal to Eckart.

When Kieran spoke, it captured Eckart’s attention, who was resting close by, and after he saw Kieran’s signal, he stopped chatting with the handsome waiter before he pulled out his phone for a phone call. He also signaled the lights and camera to get back to work.

The makeup artist even went along with the crew and quickly wrote something on a notepad, showing it to Porl Nelson.

‘Don’t worry, it’s an easter egg at the end of the show.’

‘Just be yourself.’

After Porl Nelson saw the words on the notepad, his slightly surprised face returned to normal.

‘If a shaman is nothing special, then nothing is.”

“2567, do you know how famous you are now? A lot of my friends are talking about you.”

“If I could swap identities with you, I would not hesitate at all.”

Porl Nelson was still talking with his joking tone.

“Is that so? I wouldn’t do it if I were you, because it will bring you into something that you wish you’d never see.”

“Darkness surrounds you like the air, suffocating you, and plunging you into despair, mocking your fall.”

“They become ‘them.'”

“Warmth becomes cold, just like…”

“The Curseman Vase!”

Kieran took a deep breath and turned around, he saw the museum through the window of the coffee shop.

The crowd was getting smaller under the sunset.

He seemed to be staring at something, thus luring everyone’s gaze to that single direction.

But other than the museum, there was nothing.

Kieran, however, was concentrating too hard, to the point that he was like really observing something.

And with his concentrated stare, the people around him started to think Kieran could really see the things they couldn’t.

After all, he was a ‘shaman.’

Then…

The hoarse and heavy voice sounded again.

“Do you believe in misfortune?”