Chapter 14: The Cursed Left Hand

“I know you want to understand what happened here. Actually, I don’t know either. I only know that I did it,” Poirot said to us. His eyes were dull and gray, carrying a terrifying calmness.

“I was born in the countryside of Pindter County in the south. My parents were both farmers. Originally, I should have had a poor but warm home like all ordinary children, a pair of loving parents, a few siblings, and a group of friends my own age.”

“But that was impossible, because I was born with it.”

As he said this, Poirot took off the odd-shaped glove on his left hand, and we saw a black birthmark on the back of his left hand.

The birthmark looked like an eye, covering about one-third of the back of his hand. I looked at it carefully, and at first I didn’t feel anything special. But just as I was about to put his hand down, I suddenly felt that the eye on the back of his hand seemed to move, staring straight at me.

My heart turned cold, and I suddenly felt sick. I felt the hairs on my body stand up, as if the mark carried a terrifying evil power that could see through my soul.

I quickly closed my eyes and raised my head. When I opened my eyes again, I was covered in cold sweat. I turned to look at Fred, and he was also pale, his face full of shock.

“My father saw this birthmark and invited monks from the Temple to ask for guidance. They didn’t know what the birthmark meant. They only said that this mark was very evil, that I was a cursed person, and advised my father to abandon me.”

“My parents couldn’t bear to give up their child, so they kept me. Nothing happened until I was five years old. I grew up like any ordinary child. Apart from people being curious about my birthmark, I had nothing different about me. Everyone even forgot the monks’ prophecy, until the year I turned five.”

“That year, I fell seriously ill. My father carried me to see a doctor. On the way, we were attacked by a wild dog. I fell to the ground, completely powerless. The wild dog pounced at me, opening its mouth to bite me. I was terrified and stretched out my hand to block…”

“The wild dog died, torn to pieces.” Poirot’s voice reminded me of the horrible state of that Winston officer from earlier, and I shuddered again.

“My illness was cured without treatment. But from then on, whenever a person or an animal died, I always seemed to be able to feel the soul of the dead — fearful, satisfied, relieved… What’s more, all animals would act strangely when they passed by me. Small animals like rats and birds would quickly run away. And fierce beasts or trained hunting dogs would attack me.”

“I killed several hunting dogs on the street. Those were fierce beasts that dared to fight wolves and tigers head-on, and many people saw it. From then on, no one would get close to me anymore, including my parents. Everyone ran away from me like they had seen a ghost. My former friends, following their parents’ advice, no longer wanted to come near me.”

“You’ve probably never seen parents like that. They were afraid of me, afraid of their own five-year-old flesh and blood. The moment I came home, they would shrink into the corner, not daring to look at me directly. Whenever I moved my left hand, they would run around holding their heads, afraid I would kill them. Poor me — at the time I knew nothing. I thought everyone was playing hide-and-seek with me.”

“Parents hating their own child — do you understand? Hate. I brought them misfortune, even though I had done nothing. From age five to twelve, no one spoke a single word to me. Fortunately, I was a child and didn’t understand anything. I thought that was just how things were supposed to be. Otherwise, I probably would have gone mad long ago.”

“Later I understood that they hated me. When I was twelve, I accidentally overheard my parents discussing killing me while I slept at night. My mother cried and screamed that she couldn’t take it anymore, that raising a demon by her side had pushed her to the breaking point.”

“In the end, they didn’t do it. Not because I was their child, but because they were afraid they couldn’t kill me.”

“I don’t blame them. Indeed, just as that monk said, I am a monster, a cursed being.”

“I once tried to get rid of this birthmark. I soaked it in water, burned it with fire, and even cut at it with a knife. But it never faded in the slightest. In fact, the more I tried to remove it, the clearer it became. I even thought about cutting off my entire left hand with a cleaver, but it wouldn’t have worked. It was afraid of no harm at all.”

“I covered this mark up, not wanting anyone to see it, and not wanting to see it myself. I often dreamed that when I woke up, the mark on my hand had disappeared, and I had become an ordinary person, together with my family just like everyone else. But every time I woke up, all that greeted me was disappointment.”

“Later, a wandering mage passed through our village. I secretly asked him. He only knew that it was a magical mark I was born with, and that it seemed to have some connection with Tefreelimeilansi, the goddess of death and darkness. But he told me that this mark was not impossible to remove — it just had to be done through magical means.”

“I left home and studied magic with some mages, hoping that one day I could erase the mark on my hand and become an ordinary person. Mages were not accepted by society, so I wandered with them. They did have their quirks. Reciting all kinds of magic incantations and mixing magical potions every day made each of them a bit neurotic. But they were absolutely not the demons the Temples claimed they were, disrespecting the gods and experimenting on living people. Most of them were kind-hearted and simply devoted to their studies. They were more like bookworms. More importantly, they never treated me as an outsider, never kept their distance because of my left hand. On the contrary, my left hand made them curious, and they were all willing to approach me.”

“This was the first time since I had grown up that someone was willing to approach me on their own. They taught me to read, taught me manners, and taught me magic. Although none of them could break the mark on me, I was still grateful to them. From that time on, I swore to become a mage, a true mage. I no longer believed in any gods. They all said I was evil, just because I was born with a birthmark, even though I had never even thought about hurting anyone. When even my parents treated me as an enemy, only magic helped me, supported me, and gave me the courage to live on. Magic was my faith, my home.”

“But fate always seemed to be against me. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how focused I was, my results in learning magic were always poor. I studied for four years, and apart from the Haste Spell, I learned nothing. They all said it wasn’t because I couldn’t understand the secrets of magic, but because of the curse of this mark.”

“When I escaped from the battlefield, I met you. You didn’t reject me for being a mage. You even let me join your group. I was very happy. I didn’t dare tell you my secret, and I didn’t dare tell you that I actually knew nothing. I was afraid that once you learned the truth, you would drive me away.”

“What you said just now was right. I’m a lousy mage, a useless person. Aside from being a burden, I’ll also bring danger to you. Originally, I would rather die by your hand than be a burden to you again, but you ended up getting hurt saving me. It seems I really am a person plagued by bad luck. Not only do I suffer myself, but I also drag you all down.”

“You two go. Just say… I died. I’ll stay behind and clean up this place. Thank you for saving me, Fred. As for you, Jeff, thank you for arguing with me the whole way. You kept me from being lonely on the journey.”

My eyes were already moist. I had never thought that someone would thank me for cursing at them the whole way. What a lonely person he must be!

Just as I expected, after hearing his words, Fred immediately knelt on one knee in front of him, tightly gripping his left hand, and raised his head like a true knight, saying: “I, Fred Guderian, offer my most sincere apologies for the tremendous harm my words have caused Poirot Jonas. I hope you can forgive my mistake, and I will be forever grateful to you for saving my life. I will forever defend your name and your dignity, and I hope I can have the honor of earning your trust and friendship.”

Fred looked straight into his eyes. It was a gaze I had seen before — burning, sincere, expressing the burning heart of a true warrior. When I blocked that sword strike for him, he had looked at me with that same gaze. It represented the kind of true friendship any man would be willing to hold onto for life.

“Count me in,” I said, choking up. A merchant didn’t need such complicated etiquette and wording, but when I said “count me in,” no matter what happened, I would keep my promise.

“You… you’re not driving me away?”

“Never, Poirot, unless you want to leave yourself. You will always be our friend. Never mind that you’re a mage — even if you were the Grim Reaper himself, you’d still be our friend.”

“Thank you, thank you both.” Poirot tightly hugged our shoulders, tears streaming down like rain.

“So, you agree?” Fred asked immediately.

“I agree. Thank—”

“Bang!” Before he could finish, Fred suddenly threw a punch at Poirot. Even with only his left hand usable, he knocked Poirot flat on his back. The attack was so sudden and completely out of step with the mood just now that it startled me. Poirot lay on the ground looking at Fred, too shocked to say a word.

“Are you crazy, Fred?” I stood between them, looking at Fred with confusion.

Fred pushed me aside with a serious expression, walked over slowly, and helped Poirot up, saying: “Remember, never test a friend’s blade with your own head. You’re not alone. We want you to live well.”

That was Fred’s way of expressing things. It was a kind of friendship between men.

…

Soon, this temporary Winston outpost completely disappeared from the forest. Only a few patches of blood remained on the path. No one knew that a fierce battle had just taken place here, and that three young men were now walking forward along the narrow mountain road. What awaited them ahead were restless comrades and an unknown future.