Epilogue
The summer sunrise dawned on him like the light of truth, as he dragged his assignment up the mountain side, with only a horse to carry one body. That body was definitely not going to be him, considering the fact that he always wanted to look his best when visiting new villages, to cast the illusion that he was of high class, and lugging a body around would make him break out into a sweat. It was too obvious to see that he was nothing more than a commoner who did a master's dirty work all day, while his master lounged around sentencing people to their dooms. The pay was good though, so in order to support his rather large family he endured the regret, and pain that came with the painstaking jobs he was assigned, illegal or not. He pulled the horse to the right walking over a steady bridge to the nearby town for something to eat. There were no delicate woman in expensive silk kimonos, no nobles, and nor upper classman, just nothing but farmers, hoarders, and merchants. The town itself was one big market place that never rested until a full day's work. He stopped at the nearest noodle shop to grab a cheap but filing meal. It was empty except for two or three people, he couldn't tell which since a curtain covered the upper half keeping the steam in, and the costumers out. He tied the horse's reins to a pole outside the shop, pulled away the curtain and took a seat at the bar. A middle-aged portly man came to him. He scanned the hanging menu and pointed to the item he wanted, not wanting to use his voice, giving away more of his identity. The man nodded and walked to the kitchen yelling at the cook to hurry up with the order. The man looked at the other customers who were emerged in deep conversation about sales at their business, and financial problems. The man came back holding a steaming bowl of ramen noodles in a hot broth, with vegetables scattered every which way. He handed him the money and gulped it down. He couldn't understand why the place was so deserted, the food was of great quality and the taste danced on your tongue minutes after it settles in your stomach. He considered it was because most of the men had wives to cook for them while they were doing business, and it was a way to save money, the man also figured the only customers the noodle shop had were travelers in search of food to satisfy their hunger. It explained why it was so close to the village bridge. The man pushed the bowl away from himself and walked through the curtain, taking the horse by the reins once again leading it onto the bridge and back onto the mountain trail. He picked up his pace when the sun became higher in the sky, he didn't want anyone to see him doing his job, he could risk everything by doing his job in the middle of the day. After a long walk up the steep mountain, he slowly pulled the body off the horse. He opened the top to look at the victims face, just in case. His guilt pressured him to blow it off and forget it, but there was no turning back. He wasn't the one to kill the young woman but he was part of it, which was high treason itself. He examined her face, it was powdered to perfection, with bright red lips to compliment it. Her eyes were wide open with fright, remorse, and pain. Whatever his master did, he felt sorry. She must have a big family, with more victims for his master. Then again she wasn't exactly hard to lure into the trap set before her, all he had to do was place everything into a emotional, love poem, that asked her to meet his master in his private garden. He closed the bag smoothly. He dragged it to the cliff and tossed it over, escaping over to the horse, and plummeted down the mountain on the horse, so that he didn't have to watch the body fall into total darkness.