Echoes of Betrayal

The tender morning sun, filtering through the windowpane, painted the motes of dust dancing in the old room with a golden hue, their movements a vibrant, captivating ballet. ‘Nge’yarr’ lay sprawled on his back on the bed, gazing at those specks of light. He held his hands up before his face, flexing his fingers, then turned them to catch the sunbeams. Was this reality, or merely the fanciful figment of an inescapable nightmare? He couldn't discern. His existence, submerged for eight hours a day, six days a week, in the depths of ledgers and figures, had become no different from that of a robot, programmed by its surroundings. He hadn't found, or perhaps hadn't even searched for, a way out of the trap of the so-called real world.

"Yeint... Mother isn't feeling very well, dear." The weak groan from his mother, shrouded in the dim corner of the room, struck Yeint’s chest with the force of a speeding blow. Though some acquaintances and childhood friends playfully called him ‘Nge’yarr’, his mother never did. She wanted the entity known as ‘Nge’yarr’ to cast no shadow upon her son. His mother knew, and he knew, that a man as brave as his name suggested, Yeint, possessed no virtue to speak of amidst the hospital bills, medication costs, and the mounting debts. The salary of an ordinary accountant was hardly enough to warrant any bravery.

That night, Yeint remained alone in his office. His fingers trembled as he stared at the company’s secret bank account on the computer screen and the calculator. He knew, inherently, that cancer was a matter of time before it bid farewell, but he could no longer bear to witness his mother’s pain, masked by a forced smile amidst her suffering. "Do what you need to do with a clear conscience, son. Mother is feeling better. When I get some leave, we'll go back to Kyarku for a while to rest. Then Mother can finally rest and recuperate," she had said. He knew best that his mother truly wished to return to their village, Kyarku. Though she was filling her mind with thoughts of joy to ease her pain, her son knew her eyes betrayed her.

Pressing this button would change everything. The life of ‘clever boy Yeint’, who always kept his head down and his smile fixed in front of people, would end right here. Just as dead cells could never be reborn, he hadn't envisioned seeing his mother’s smiles fade again, but was he to let go of this opportunity, this fleeting moment, this period, to offer her a final, hearty smile with his last breath? Without hesitation, he pressed the Enter key.

Returning home that midnight, Yeint knelt beside his sleeping mother’s bed. He whispered softly from his heart, "Mother... your son has committed murder. I have killed the Yeint who was too good for you. Please don’t cry, Mother... please don’t cry..." In the pitch-black night, he had committed something far darker, far more depraved. Though he had initiated an irreversible event, he felt his soul was looking at him with a gentle smile, offering solace. But for the sake of his entire life, he wanted to confess to his mother. Even knowing she might not hear him due to the medication's effects, to speak the truth to his mother was the only thing that gave him the courage to face himself, to wash away his guilt again and again. Whether she heard him or not, saying it aloud was what would give him strength and courage. Speaking softly, his voice trailed off, and regret, like a cool breeze, flowed through his veins.

The next morning, a week later, the world continued to spin as usual, but for Yeint, everything had fractured like a shattered mirror. The rhythmic tapping of the intern’s keyboard in the office sounded like a stamping machine interrogating his soul. The manager’s cough was like the judge’s merciless verdict that would seal his guilt. The hushed gossip of his colleagues, their faces turning towards each other as they spoke, erupted in Yeint’s ears like the lifeless, hollow wails of mourners at a funeral.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug on his collar from behind. "Nge’yarr... he stole... these financial statements, he manipulated them... Guards, hold this man tight. He’ll try to escape before the police arrive..." "Before he took leave, his staying late at the office for overtime seemed unnatural, so I thoroughly checked the CCTV records, sir. This fellow started plotting this from then. He looked like a harmless cat, didn't he? What’s this... Yeint? Do you have the courage to steal, you hellish, beggar, thief?" The voices of the manager and his assistants, who had taken everything they could from Nge’yarr when he had pleaded for loans countless times, echoed as if they couldn't see him anymore.

A cacophony of voices, a multitude of glares, swirled in his head, mocking him. Amidst the hallucinations, Yeint felt his breath catching. The thousand eyes of his surroundings bore down on him like vultures, famished and ready to tear him apart, making each of his steps wobbly, on the verge of falling. Before the steps that would take him back to Kyarku to see his mother, amidst the confession he had uttered, the whispered words, was he to fall himself first?

The manager's and his assistant's bitter words, the scornful eyes of his colleagues, were like towering walls closing in on Nge’yarr. The moment the two police officers entered the room calmly and reached for their handcuffs. "Was I wrong? Was it wrong...? I revealed the unbearable pain and suffering to them. Didn't they hear my cries, begging for salvation? What are these looks now...? I'm not a thief. Is that right? Am I a thief...? What I stole... what I stole was..." His voice, speaking to no one in particular, tore through his eardrums. At that instant, all the pent-up emotions, all the endured suffering, all the oppression of years, exploded within Yeint's chest like a thunderclap. He violently kicked the desk in front of him, scattering financial statement files and computer screens.

"Yes! I stole! I did it!" Yeint's furious roar shook the entire office like an earthquake. He stared at the manager and those surrounding him, his gaze sharp as a cornered tiger ready to maul its prey. "Do you all want to smash my face with stones and kill me until there's nothing left? All of you... Which one of you is clean? Which one of you is honest? Do you think you're morally upright and honest? My mother... My mother..." Yeint couldn’t continue. As he fell silent, like a madman, shouting and raging, the two stunned police officers regained their senses and moved to strike him with their batons.

"The beggar wants to die. Hah... Mother... you too? After doing whatever you want, you’ll go and hug your mother, won’t you? What, is your mother about to die, so you have to do this...?"

"Aaaah...!!" "Hey... Nge’yarr!" "Oh heavens... I'm dead!"

One of the police officers couldn't finish his sentence. Amidst the shouts, an unexpected act occurred. Yeint lunged at the officer, grappling with him, and together they tumbled out of the office window.

On the ground below the high-rise office window, amidst the shattered glass, lay a gruesome scene of blood, a vivid red splattered and intertwined across the pavement. Blood streamed from ‘Yeint’s’ head, staining his entire face beyond recognition, yet from the thick, crimson mess, the corner of his lips curled into a faint smile. His arm lay at an unnatural angle, bone protruding through his torn shirt, but the police officer who had fallen with him groaned, unable to move. The shouts of the surrounding crowd, the multitude of staring eyes, meant nothing to Yeint now. He knew charges of attempted murder of a public servant, theft, and homicide awaited him. However, he had already managed to send the money for his mother’s medical expenses and her travel fare to Kyarku in advance, and his heart felt completely light. Hadn't he boldly rebelled and escaped from the life of ‘Nge’yarr’?

Moments later, an old police van arrived. Yeint was placed behind its bars and driven away. Despite the searing pain from his injuries, Yeint chuckled softly, leaning against the van door. No matter how the world judged him... in the end, nothing truly mattered. At that moment, the police van suddenly stopped at a traffic light. This city’s police station was amusing; the relevant district police station was on the northern outskirts of the city. He didn't know how long they had been driving from the scene to their current journey. From a roadside stall selling speakers and amplifiers nearby, a song blared from the speaker, as if being tested. A gentle piano melody, accompanied by Freddie Mercury's mournful voice, seeped through the bars. "Nothing really matters..."

"I really like this song, Mother..." The special security guard, closely accompanying him in the police van, could hear him even though his voice was muffled. Thinking, "What nonsense will this madman spout now?" he cocked his rifle and yelled to the driver in front, "This fellow is singing songs deliriously, sir." The police van remained stationary. The two police officers from the front compartment got out in a hurry.

"...Anyway the wind blows..." Holding the bars of the window, Yeint closed his eyes gently, feeling the faint end of the music and the evening breeze. The light that pierced through the bars and the gun barrels aimed at him... At dusk, streaks of sunlight shone before him, filtering through the bars and the guns. Spreading his hands to catch the pale yellow sunlight, "This is not a dream, Mother. This is the reality I chose..."

Thahtetsitt 26.6.2026.22:17

(In memory of Nge’yarr)