Chapter 620: The Paparazzi

Damn, this is a real demon.

Looking at the silhouette of a beautiful woman projected on the blue lantern's surface, like a shadow puppet, Dorothy froze, then felt a flicker of surprise.

She detected no trace of magical energy within the lantern, only a force that resembled magic but wasn't quite it…

"I'm a failure; I barely notice whether the sun shines brightly or not, because I have no time."

"My parents couldn't support me, my education was poor, and I wandered alone through the city searching for a future."

"I applied for many jobs but was never hired—maybe no one likes someone who's bad at speaking, avoids communication, and shows no sufficient ability."

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"I went three full days eating only two loaves of bread; hunger kept me awake at night. Luckily, I'd paid a month's rent in advance, so I could still stay in that dark basement, avoiding the bitterly cold winter winds outside."

"Finally, I got a job: night watch at the hospital, guarding the morgue."

"The hospital nights were colder than I imagined—the corridor lamps were unlit, everything was dim, and I could barely see my feet by the faint glow leaking from the rooms."

"The smell was awful; corpses in body bags kept arriving, and we helped carry them into the morgue."

"It wasn't a good job, but at least it let me buy bread, and my free nights gave me time to study—after all, few wanted to come to the morgue unless a body needed moving or burning. Still, I couldn't afford books, and I saw no hope of saving money."

"I owe thanks to my predecessor—if he hadn't quit suddenly, I might never have gotten even this job."

"I dream of switching to day shifts; now I sleep when the sun rises and wake when night falls, leaving me weak and occasionally with sharp headaches."

"One day, a new corpse was delivered."

"Others said it was my former colleague who'd quit so suddenly."

"I was curious about him. After everyone left, I pulled out the drawer and quietly opened the body bag."

"He was an old man, his face pale and bluish, covered in wrinkles, terrifying under the dim light."

"He had little hair, most of it white; all his clothes had been stripped away, not even a scrap of fabric left on him."

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"I saw a strange mark on his chest—dark bluish-black—I couldn't describe its shape; the light was too dim."

"I reached out and touched the mark—it felt ordinary."

"Looking at my former colleague, I wondered—if I keep going like this, when I'm old, will I end up like him?"

"I told him: 'Tomorrow I'll take you to the crematorium myself and bring your ashes to the nearest free cemetery, so those in charge won't get lazy and dump you by some river or wasteland.'"

"It'll cost me one morning's sleep, but it's almost Sunday—I can make up for it."

"After saying that, I sealed the body bag and shoved it back into the drawer."

"The room's light seemed to grow even dimmer…"

"Since then, every time I sleep, I dream of thick fog."

"I sense something's coming soon—I feel something, maybe not even human, will come for me. But no one believes me; they think working in that environment has broken my mind, that I need a doctor…"

A male customer seated at the bar looked at the storyteller who had suddenly fallen silent:

"And then?"

The man was in his thirties, wearing a brown tweed jacket and light-yellow trousers, his hair flattened, a simple dark round hat beside him.

He looked ordinary, like most in the tavern—black hair, pale blue eyes, neither ugly nor handsome, lacking any striking features.

But to his eyes, the storyteller was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, tall and slender-limbed, with short black hair and pale blue eyes, his features sharp enough to catch the eye.

The young man stared at his empty glass and sighed:

"And then?"

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"Then I quit and went back to the countryside—to tell you tall tales."

As he spoke, a mischievous smile spread across his face.

The male customer blinked:

"You were just making all that up?"

Laughter erupted around the bar.

As the laughter subsided, a thin middle-aged man looked at the embarrassed guest and said:

"Stranger, you actually believed Lumi'an's story? He tells a different one every day—yesterday he was a poor fool whose fiancée broke off their engagement; today he's a morgue guard!"

"Yeah, babbling nonsense about thirty years east of the Sailunzuohe, thirty years right of the Sailunzuohe—just rambling!" added another regular.

They were all farmers from the large village of Kerdou, dressed in short jackets of black, gray, or brown.

The black-haired young man called Lumi'an pushed himself up from the bar with both hands, smiling:

"You know, these aren't my stories—they're written by my sister. She loves writing, and she's a columnist for the 'Novel Weekly.'"

He turned to the outsider, shrugged, and grinned brightly:

"Looks like she writes well."

"Sorry for misleading you."

The man in the brown tweed jacket, ordinary-looking, didn't get angry—he stood and smiled back:

"A fascinating story."

"What's your name?"

"Isn't it common sense to introduce yourself before asking someone else's?" Lumi'an laughed.

The outsider nodded:

"I'm Ryan Cos."

"These two are my companions, Valentine and Sophie Liya."

He meant the man and woman sitting beside him.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, his blond hair dusted with powder, his small eyes a shade darker than lake-blue, dressed in a white vest, blue fine wool coat, and black trousers—clearly dressed up for the occasion.

He looked cold, barely glancing at the farmers and shepherds around him.

The woman appeared younger than the two men, her light-gray hair tied into an intricate bun, covered by a white veil as a hat.

Her eyes matched her hair, and her gaze toward Lumi'an held unhidden amusement—she found yesterday's events merely entertaining.

Under the tavern's gas wall lamps, the woman named Sophie Liya revealed a pert nose and elegantly curved lips—undoubtedly a beauty in the rural village of Kerdou.

She wore a white, pleatless cashmere dress, a cream-colored cropped jacket, and Ma Ma Xier boots; silver bells were tied to both her veil and boots, jingling as she entered the tavern, drawing every man's stare.

In their eyes, this was fashion only seen in big cities like Bigor or the capital, Teriel.

Lumi'an nodded to the three outsiders:

"I'm Lumi'an Li—you can just call me Lumi'an."

"Li?" Sophie Liya blurted out.

"What's wrong with my surname?" Lumi'an asked curiously.

Ryan Cos explained for her:

"That surname terrifies me—I almost lost control of my voice just now."

Seeing the farmers and shepherds puzzled, he added:

"Anyone who's dealt with sailors or merchants knows this saying across the Five Seas:

"Better to face pirate generals or even kings than to meet a man named Frank Li."

"His surname is also Li."

"Is he that terrifying?" Lumi'an asked.

Ryan shook his head:

"I don't know, but if such a legend exists, he can't be ordinary."

He dropped the subject and turned to Lumi'an:

"Thank you for the story—it deserves a drink. What'll you have?"

"A 'Green Fairy,'" Lumi'an said without hesitation, sitting back down.

Ryan frowned slightly:

"'Green Fairy'… absinthe?"

"I should warn you—absinthe is harmful; it can cause madness and hallucinations."

"I didn't realize Teriel's trends had reached here," Sophie Liya added with a smile.

Lumi'an "oh"ed:

"So Teriel folks like 'Green Fairy' too…"

"For us, life's hard enough—we don't need to care about a little extra harm. This drink lets our minds truly relax."

"Alright," Ryan sat back, signaling the bartender. "One 'Green Fairy,' and one 'Spicy Heart' for me."

"Spicy Heart" was a famous fruit brandy.

"Why not give me a 'Green Fairy' too? I was the one who told you the truth—I can tell you everything about this kid!" the thin middle-aged man protested. "Stranger, I can tell you still doubt whether the story's real!"

"Pierre, you'd do anything for a free drink!" Lumi'an called back.

Before Ryan could respond, Lumi'an added:

"Why can't I tell it myself? Then I'd get another 'Green Fairy.'"

"Because they won't believe you," Pierre grinned smugly. "Your sister's favorite story for kids is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf'—liars lose all credibility."

"Fine," Lumi'an shrugged, watching the bartender slide a pale green drink before him.

Ryan looked at him, asking:

"Is that okay?"

"Sure—as long as your wallet can cover the drinks," Lumi'an said carelessly.

"Then another 'Green Fairy,' please." Ren nodded.

Pierre's face instantly lit up:

"Kind outsider, this boy is the village's biggest prankster—you must keep your distance from him."

"Five years ago, his sister Aurèle brought him back to the village, and he never left again. Think about it—he was only thirteen before that. How could he have been a graveyard watcher at a hospital? The nearest hospital is Dariji, down in the mountains, a full afternoon's walk away."

"Brought back to the village?" Lya asked sharply.

She tilted her head slightly, producing a tinkling sound.

Pierre nodded:

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"Then he took his sister's surname 'Li,' and even his name 'Lu Mian' was given by Aurèle."

"I've forgotten what he was called before," Lu Mian said, sipping his absinthe with a grin.

He showed no shame or embarrassment at having his past so openly revealed.