cHApTEr 8. THE DATE (3 of 3)

At the end, the credits rolled. The lights turned on, driving out the darkness from the auditorium. There weren’t many people at the movie. It was midday on a Monday. Just twenty or thirty, including Mioray and Erinel. He had chosen the middle seats so they could fully enjoy the experience, but he didn’t pay enough attention and missed almost everything that happened on the screen. It was a shame, because he had really been looking forward to it. The premise was catchy. Maybe he’d go again, alone next time.

During the movie, Mioray kept getting distracted by sneaking peeks at Erinel, trying to guess her thoughts. She watched the screen intently, but her expression never changed. It was the same as always, serene, with a vague hint of curiosity. During comedic scenes, she didn’t laugh; during dramatic ones, she didn’t frown; and during intense ones, she didn’t hold her breath.

The only way to know she wasn’t spacing out was to watch her eat the popcorn. Mioray had bought it for her before the movie started, and for obvious reasons, he couldn’t eat it himself. Erinel ate alone, and when the bag was emptied, she set it on the floor, and folded her hands neatly on her knees. With the movie failing to squeeze any emotions out of her, she became like a lovely statue, one with a blinking-eyes feature.

For this date – or rather, outing – Erinel – or Farah, technically – had chosen to wear a white blouse with short sleeves and a long, sand-colored jeans skirt. She looked like a normal human being, and a pretty one at that. Her image changed drastically depending on what she wore. At the bar, she was mysterious and charmingly enigmatic. Then distant and cold in the black dress she wore every other day. At the museum during the charity event, she radiated elegance and magnificence. Now, she looked kind. But that didn’t help Mioray much. He still couldn’t read what she was hiding behind the mask.

Mioray himself wore a checkered shirt, slim chinos, and white sneakers. Farah had picked the outfit too, except for the black cap he wore nowadays just in case. He didn’t want to be recognized on the street, and being a guy with one arm, he already stood out.

“Are we waiting for something else?” Erinel asked suddenly, finally breaking free of her statue-like stillness.

Mioray blinked a few times, then looked around the auditorium. While he had been wondering what Farah might wear for her own date, considering how both he and Erinel looked today thanks to her, he had missed the moment everyone else left. Only a janitor remained at the front, cleaning up scattered popcorn and occasionally throwing Mioray a judgmental glance. He didn’t know Mioray wasn’t alone. The credits had finished, and the projector had gone dark, leaving only a blank white screen.

“No, the movie’s over,” Mioray whispered quickly. He was supposed to be leading this. Erinel had never been to the cinema before. She couldn’t possibly know when they were supposed to leave. Well, the other people were a good indicator of that, but she wasn’t with them. She was with him. “We can go now.”

Feeling a little embarrassed, he took Erinel’s hand and led her to the exit, murmuring an apology to the janitor on the way. Outside, it was sunny. Perfect for a slow, pleasant walk. A little chilly, maybe, for what Mioray was wearing, but it didn’t bother him. He felt no discomfort. But what about Erinel? Did greanrips feel cold?

He turned to her, only then realizing he was still holding her hand, and she wasn’t objecting. It was just like when the same happened at the museum. She still didn’t give it any importance.

“I’m sorry,” Mioray said, letting go of her hand.

“For what?” Her hazel eyes looked at him, curious.

“I didn’t mean to hold you. Not like that.”

“How did you mean to hold me, then?”

She asked sincerely, as if it were a simple question that deserved a simple answer. Mioray sighed. How could Erinel be so naive, yet so self-aware at the same time? He didn’t want to take advantage of her, but it felt strange to be the one explaining things. She should’ve been far more experienced than him. And she was, in some ways. Just not in life, specifically, but in death, the afterlife, and their affairs.

“Are you cold, Erinel?” he asked, dodging the question.

“I am, but it’s alright,” Erinel said, rubbing her hands together. “Greanrips are more resistant to cold than humans, although it does make us weaker.”

That was a shame. Not that her body was sturdier than it looked, but that Mioray didn’t have a coat to offer her. It would’ve been a nice gesture, to put it around her shoulders.

They walked along the river, which flowed swiftly in its predetermined direction. As if on purpose, they passed plenty of couples, all of them clearly on sweet dates. It was like the universe was mocking Mioray. Not because the weather forecast said it would rain in the coming weeks, but because it felt like everyone had chosen the riverbank to spend their time. It made him wonder if he should have brought flowers for Erinel like others did for their dates, or told her funny stories with a full-toothed grin.

And even though no one could really see that Mioray wasn’t alone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that people would give them curious looks, because he was clearly younger than Erinel.

He knew he was worrying for no reason, yet he couldn’t help it. Mioray had never been on a date before. Frankly, this wasn’t supposed to be a date anyway. Just two friends watching a movie together. Although… their dynamic wasn’t exactly typical of friends. He looked at Erinel, and she smiled at him. Mioray quickly turned away, catching a nearby couple glancing at him with pity. He brushed it off, still overwhelmed by the fact that Terry, Farah, and everyone else had put the idea of a “date” in his head. And now he couldn’t get rid of it. He was so easily influenced by others!

Not the best example of a man experienced with life, huh? he thought. Then again, he had only just turned twenty-one. That was barely a fifth of a lifetime. He had a legitimate excuse for not knowing what he was doing.

“So, how did you like the movie?” Mioray finally mustered the courage to ask. They were alone by the riverside now, and it felt like the right moment. He wanted to know what she thought. Maybe he could learn more about what she liked. Or didn’t like.

Erinel stopped, gazing at the sky.

“I’m puzzled,” she said. “I didn’t know demons like that existed. Quite a few were still alive when we left. One of these days, I’ll have to seek them out to learn more. Looking for the two siblings who fought the demons could be a good start. However, I don’t know where that country or city is where they live.”

Erinel said it with such a straightforward face that Mioray started laughing. She was so convincing, too. Who knew she could joke like that?

While bursting with laughter, he looked at Erinel and noticed her slightly confused expression. There was polite amusement in her eyes. She was glad that Mioray was in high spirits, but the reason for his laughter was unclear to her.

Mioray froze with his mouth still open in mid-laughter.

“Wait, no way,” he managed to squeeze out, trying to stifle his outburst. “You’re not serious about what you said, are you?”

“Why would I lie?”

And that’s how Mioray learned there was no such thing as common sense with Erinel. She might be wise and knowledgeable in specific areas, but anything related to normalcy was out of her expertise. When it came to modern culture, she behaved like a toddler.

“No, Erinel, you’ve got it wrong. That story in the movie wasn’t real. It was fiction. Someone came up with it, shared it with others, and then it was transformed into a film for the whole world to see.”

“But it looked so real,” Erinel said, still uncertain. “Is there a reason why they try to deceive those who watch it?”

“Well, actually, people usually know it’s not real. I’m sorry, I should have explained it to you before we watched the movie.”

“I don’t understand,” Erinel said, unconvinced. “If everyone knows it’s a lie, why would they willingly watch it?”

She wouldn’t let it slide, and Mioray couldn’t dodge the question. But explaining to her why humans produce and watch movies? That was tough. He could try explaining it to a kid, but Erinel wasn’t one. She might have no understanding of how humans lived nowadays, but she had her own views, experience, and critical thinking, which made explaining concepts learned in childhood even more challenging. Erinel was no child. She was thousands of years old. Compared to that, Mioray was a newborn.

“It’s entertainment,” he said, unsure whether Erinel even understood what that meant. “It’s something people like doing in their free time. Reading books, watching movies, that sort of thing. It lets us experience worlds that don’t exist, and adventures that are impossible in real life.”

“But human lifespans are already too short. Why would you waste it on something that doesn’t exist, when you can focus on what’s within your reach?”

Her question reminded Mioray of Andrew. That guy was hooked on a TV show that aired for years, and every week he looked forward to the next episode. The show helped him cope with routine. Helped him feel alive.

“Because it’s in our nature,” Mioray said. “People always dream about things outside their reach. It helps us push forward and create miracles. We sacrifice parts of our lives for impossible dreams, and in turn those dreams give our lives goals and meaning.”

Erinel’s next question came quickly.

“How do these movies fit in with goals and meaning, if they don’t hold any meaning at all?”

She wasn’t going to make it easy, was she?

“You should ask artists about art,” Mioray replied after a moment’s thought. “It’s more complex than that. Some movies are inspired by real-life events. In fact, there’s a whole genre – documentaries – that focuses on presenting historical events, famous people, scientific breakthroughs, and all kinds of real topics. But documentaries usually aren’t valued for artistic vision. Not all fiction movies strive for that either. A lot of them are just made to entertain. They give us a break from the problems we face every day.

“But in general, movies help us think about ideas and perspectives we may have never considered. They can have a philosophical angle. They can teach us empathy by helping us understand the feelings and motivations of characters. And they can even teach us how to interact with others in our own lives.”

That made Mioray wonder, what did Erinel usually do in her free time? Did she mostly search for souls needing guidance, like Farah had speculated? If she was that focused on her work, maybe she’d never really experienced leisure. How hard must it be for someone like her to understand it?

Art, in any form, wasn’t clear or objective like science. It had dozens of definitions, all different from each other, and all correct. And wrong, too.

Mioray could only share his own view of art with Erinel. But that wasn’t fair. She had to form her own opinion. How could he help her do that without forcing his own interpretation onto her?

Old as she was, Erinel listened to everything he said as if it were absolute truth. She took his words for granted, something no well-informed person would do. She really was oblivious to humankind’s cultures, despite interacting with the souls of the dead for ages.

But if her attitude toward Andrew was any indication, maybe she’d given up on connecting with humans a long time ago.

They approached a flock of pigeons blocking their path. Usually, the birds would scatter in all directions, waddling away on their little red feet instead of flying. But this time, they stayed still. Mioray stopped, but Erinel kept walking; she only paused and turned around once she was standing among the birds. They didn’t mind her, as if they took her for one of their own. Or maybe they couldn’t sense her at all, like humans couldn’t?

“How come you don’t know about art and the things that drive people, but you’re educated on alcoholic beverages?” Mioray asked, recalling the cocktail Corpse Reviver No. 2 that Erinel had made for him when they first met.

“I find the process of making them rather sophisticated,” Erinel said as she squatted down and gently petted the pigeons. They cooed complacently in response. In her presence, the birds were unusually meek. And they were definitely aware of her. “It’s intriguing how your kind invented these beverages. Even now, humans find ways to mix something new and special. This trend has continued since the beginning of humanity. A fellow greanrip introduced me to these drinks about three hundred years ago.”

Mioray glanced at the jewel on Erinel’s ring, shining in the sunlight. So she was fascinated by a part of human culture after all. But the fact that she brought up another greanrip overshadowed that small revelation.

“Is that the one who gave you the ring?” he asked.

“Yes,” Erinel lowered her head, brushing the ring with her fingertips. Losing her attention, the pigeons scattered, waddling off in search of someone who might feed them.

She had once mentioned that a dear friend gave her the ring, and that she would never see them again for reasons she hadn’t explained.

Mioray wasn’t sure what to make of it. What kinds of relationships did greanrips have among themselves? Were they similar to human relationships? He could imagine another race having customs like humans – getting married, having children, growing old together. But beyond that, he couldn’t imagine anything different.

He still knew so little about greanrips. For one, how many were there? He’d only ever met Erinel. Did they all serve the same purpose, to guide souls to the afterlife?

“Like humans, greanrips can reproduce,” Erinel said as she stood up and fixed her hair. “But for a long time now, it hasn’t interested us. There’s no point in having more of us when the planet doesn’t get any bigger.”

Oh, wow. He didn’t know much about greanrips, but he wasn’t ready to learn about them starting from the most intimate parts. That escalated quickly from an innocent question about a ring.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Mioray said with an awkward smile.

“It’s alright. I can see from the way you look at me that you’re interested in my kind,” Erinel said with a soft shake of her head and her usual tender smile. The heat almost melted Mioray’s brain. That was only one side of what interested him. Hopefully, she would stay oblivious to the other. “It’s only fair that I tell you more about greanrips, since you’ve told me more about humans.”

“We lived on this planet long before humans,” Erinel leaned on the railing by the river, watching its waters sparkling in the sun. “We weren’t the first to inhabit it, but we’re a part of what your kind calls Those Who Were Before.”

The term was familiar to Mioray. It referred to a civilization that had prospered and faded away before humankind spread across the planet. Nobody knew what Those Who Were Before looked like, although old structures, even entire cities, had been left behind. That was before the Era of Survival began. Now, there were no traces of their architecture left.

But the legend still lived on. There was a belief that fifteen hundred years ago, people lived in a country called Emporium – a legacy of Those Who Were Before. Everything there ran on electricity, long before humans learned how to generate it on their own. Sadly, the country fell during the Four Wars, along with everything it could have offered the world.

“We are beings of nature, and our purpose was to guide Mother Nature – Spirit of the Forest – on her quest to enrich the planet. Unfortunately, she ceased to exist, and we lost our purpose. Greanrips, once united in one goal, split onto different paths. Some continued to search for the Spirit of the Forest, refusing to believe she was gone. Nobody knows where they went. Some chose to abandon their physical bodies and become one with nature itself. Finally, those who remained made a deal. Death gave them a new purpose.”

Erinel fell silent, waiting for Mioray’s response. The sun shone directly behind her, catching the gold in her eyes. Everything she said, it was a lot to take in. He didn’t know how to respond. But silence wasn’t an option either.

“Do you like it?” he asked. “Your new purpose?”

Erinel took a long pause. A cold breeze stirred the violet shades in her black hair. Her smile looked… lost.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t regret it,” Mioray said, breaking the silence. He also leaned on a railing with his one arm next to Erinel. “I’m glad I get to see you and help you. You’re not like anyone I know, Erinel, and it’s not just because you’re a greanrip. You’re just… I like being around you.”

He started off confidently, but ended up murmuring. His dead heart beat like crazy. Making a real move on her would take most of his courage. Mioray was conflicted. It didn’t seem entirely proper; him being dead, her being non-human. Then again, Erinel was special to him, no matter where she came from.

“It’s refreshing to have the company of humans,” Erinel admitted. “Moreover, it’s possible to share my powers with you, so you can help me. Recruiting living people is impossible, considering how limited our ways of communication with them are. And piercing the hearts of living people with our power has proven to be… lethal. Don’t look at me like that,” she added with a frown. “I wasn’t the one who tried it.”

Mioray nodded. He was willing to believe her.

“Your powers are mysterious,” he admitted.

“Not all of them are mine originally. All the spiritual powers I have were granted to me and other greanrips. The ones connected to nature, we’re born with those.”

“Ah, so that’s how you turned your room in the storage facility into a literal garden? Because of your affinity with nature?”

“Yes, that is right.”

The flowery gas, the meadow-like room, the way she commanded animals – it all reminded Mioray of the druids from myths. Who knew, maybe the stories of druids were inspired by greanrips themselves? Once legends, now they could easily pass as superheroes

“I wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid,” Mioray grinned sheepishly.

“A superhero?”

“Yeah, a person with superpowers. There are plenty of movies about that kind of story.”

Erinel stepped closer and touched his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to watching another movie with you.”

“You do?” Mioray exhaled, surprised.

“I don’t understand the appeal just yet, but maybe I need to give it another try. I want to find out how it’s possible to find meaning in meaninglessness.”

Mioray chuckled.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but… yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll check what’s showing in cinemas soon–”

A phone call cut him off. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. He clicked his tongue. Kevin.

“Is Erinel with you?” was the first thing the lawyer said when Mioray answered. No ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’. Straight to business.

“Yes.”

“Give her the phone.”

Mioray sighed. His hostility toward Kevin grew a little more every day, and he had no doubt the feeling was mutual. He just couldn’t get that guy with the glasses. He handed the phone to Erinel. She had never deemed it necessary to have her own.

“Yes, Kevin. I’m listening.” She paused, listening carefully to what Kevin was saying. “Are you sure? They think they know where to look for him? Okay. Yes. When are they planning to go in? Tonight? We must find him before they do. Call the others and make sure they’re ready. We leave immediately.”

“What was that about?” Mioray asked when Erinel handed him the phone back.

“The police figured out where the Dismantler is hiding,” she said, her voice suddenly firm. The gentle tone from earlier was gone. Her eyes flashed with a predatory gleam. “They’re gathering forces to lock him in. But if he really is Impact Corpse, they’re walking into a suicide mission. Worse, they might scare him off. I want to get to him before they do.”

“Last time, he was the hunter,” she added, moving away from the railing. “But today, he’ll be our prey.”