Chapter 797: A Thousand Riders Roll Over the Flat Hill

"I am a failure, I almost don't pay attention to whether the sun is shining or not, because there is no time.

"My parents couldn't provide me with support, my education was not high, and I was alone in the city looking for the future.

"I found many jobs, but none of them were hired. Maybe no one likes a person who is not good at speaking, doesn't love communication, and hasn't shown enough ability.

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"I only ate two pieces of bread for three whole days. Hunger made me unable to sleep at night. Fortunately, I paid the rent for a month in advance and could continue to live in that dark basement, without having to go outside to endure the abnormally cold wind in winter.

"Finally, I found a job, working the night shift at the hospital, guarding the morgue.

"The night at the hospital was colder than I thought. The wall lamps in the corridor were not lit, and it was dim everywhere. I could only rely on the little light that penetrated from the room to help me see my feet.

"The smell there was very bad. From time to time, the deceased were stuffed into body bags and sent over, and we cooperated to help him move into the morgue.

"This is not a very good job, but at least it allows me to afford bread. The free time at night can also be used for study. After all, no one wants to come to the morgue unless there are corpses that need to be sent or transported away for cremation. Of course, I don't have enough money to buy books yet, and I can't see the hope of saving money for the time being.

"I have to thank my predecessor colleague. If it weren't for his sudden resignation, I might not have been able to get such a job.

"I dream of being able to rotate to be responsible for the day.

"One day, the porter delivered a new corpse.

"I heard from others that it was my former colleague who had suddenly quit.

"I was a bit curious about him, so after everyone left, I pulled out the cabinet and quietly opened the body bag.

"He was an old man, his face blue and white, covered in wrinkles; he looked terrifying in the very dim light.

"He didn't have much hair, most of it white, and all his clothes had been stripped off, not even a scrap of fabric left for him.

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"I saw a strange mark on his chest, blue-black in color; I can't describe exactly what it looked like, the light was just too dim at the time.

"I reached out and touched the mark, but there was nothing special about it.

"Looking at this former colleague, I wondered, if I keep going like this, when I get old, will I end up like him...

"I told him that tomorrow I would accompany him to the crematorium and personally take his ashes to the nearest free cemetery, so that those responsible for these things wouldn't find it troublesome and just toss them in some random river or wasteland.

"This will cost me a morning's sleep, but fortunately, it's Sunday soon, so I can make it up.

"After saying that, I fixed the body bag and shoved it back into the cabinet.

"The light in the room seemed to get even dimmer...

"Since that day, every time I sleep, I always dream of a thick fog.

"I have a premonition that something will happen soon, a premonition that sooner or later, things that I don't know if I can call human will come looking for me, but no one is willing to believe me; they think that in such an environment and such a job, my mind has become abnormal and I need to see a doctor..."

A male guest sitting at the bar looked at the storyteller who had suddenly stopped:

"And then?"

This male guest was in his thirties, wearing a brown tweed jacket and light yellow trousers, his hair pressed very flat, with a simple dark round hat at his side.

He looked ordinary, just like most people in the tavern: black hair, light blue eyes, not good-looking, not ugly, lacking any obvious features.

And the storyteller in his eyes was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, with a tall, straight build, slender limbs, also with short black hair and light blue eyes, but his features were deep and striking, enough to make one's eyes light up.

The young man looked at the empty glass in front of him and sighed:

"And then?

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"And then I quit and went back to the countryside, coming here to brag to you."

As he spoke, a smile appeared on his face, a smile with a hint of mischief.

The male guest was stunned for a moment:

"Was what you just said bragging?"

"Haha." A burst of laughter erupted around the bar.

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

"Outsider, you actually believed Lumian's story? He tells a different one every day; yesterday he was a poor wretch whose fiancée broke off their engagement, and today he's become a corpse keeper!"

"Right, talking about thirty years on the east side of the Selenzo River, thirty years on the right side of the Selenzo River, just babbling nonsense!" another tavern regular added.

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

The black-haired young man called Lumian braced his hands on the bar, stood up slowly, and said with a smile:

"You know, this isn't a story I made up; it was all written by my sister. She loves writing stories the most and is even a columnist for some 'Novel Weekly'."

After finishing, he turned his body, spread his hands toward the outsider, and smiled brilliantly:

"It seems she writes really well.

"I'm sorry for misleading you."

The man in the brown tweed jacket, who looked ordinary, was not angry; he stood up as well and responded with a smile:

"A very interesting story.

"What should I call you?"

"Isn't it common sense to introduce yourself before asking others?" Lumian laughed.

The guest from out of town nodded:

"My name is Ryan Cos.

"These two are my companions, Valentine and Leah."

The latter sentence referred to the man and woman sitting right beside them.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, his yellow hair dusted with powder, his eyes—not particularly large—a shade deeper than lake blue. He wore a white vest, a blue fine-wool coat, and black trousers, clearly having dressed with great care before heading out.

He looked quite cold and didn't pay much attention to the surrounding farmers and herdsmen.

The woman looked younger than the two men, her long, light-gray hair tied into an intricate bun, wrapped in a white veil that served as a hat.

Her eyes were the same color as her hair, and her gaze toward Lumian held undisguised amusement; she seemed to find what had just happened merely interesting.

Under the glow of the tavern's gas wall lamp, this woman named Leah revealed a dainty nose and beautifully curved lips; in a countryside place like Cordu Village, she could definitely be called a beauty.

She wore a white, unpleated cashmere tight-fitting dress, paired with a beige little jacket and a pair of Marsil boots. There were two small silver bells tied to her veil and boots respectively. When she had walked into the tavern just now, she had jingled all the way, attracting much attention and causing many men to stare blankly.

In their eyes, this must be the kind of fashionable attire found only in big cities like the provincial capital Biger or the capital Trier.

Lumian nodded to the three outsiders:

"My name is Lumian Lee; you can just call me Lumian."

"Lee?" Leah blurted out.

"What's wrong? Is there a problem with my surname?" Lumian asked curiously.

Ryan Cos helped Leah explain:

"This surname of yours is terrifying; I almost couldn't control my voice just now."

Seeing the surrounding farmers and herdsmen looking puzzled, he explained further:

"Anyone who has had contact with sailors or sea merchants knows that there is a saying circulating on the Five Seas:

"Better to encounter those pirate generals or even kings than to run into a person named Frank Lee.

"That person's surname is also Lee."

"Is he that scary?" Lumian asked.

Ryan shook his head:

"I'm not sure, but since such a legend exists, it certainly can't be bad."

He ended this topic and said to Lumian:

"Thank you for your story; it's worth a drink. What would you like?"

"A glass of 'Green Fairy'." Lumian didn't stand on ceremony and sat back down.

Ryan Cos frowned slightly and said:

"'Green Fairy'... Absinthe?

"I think I need to remind you that wormwood is harmful to the human body; this kind of alcohol can lead to mental confusion and cause you to have hallucinations."

"I didn't expect the fashion trends of Trier to have spread all the way here." Leah added with a smile.

Lumian said "Oh":

"So people in Trier also like to drink 'Green Fairy'...

"For us, life is already hard enough; there's no need to care about a little more harm. This kind of alcohol allows our minds to achieve greater relaxation."

"Fine." Ryan sat back in his seat and looked at the bartender, "A glass of 'Green Fairy', and add a glass of 'Spicy Heart' for me."

"Spicy Heart" is a famous fruit brandy.

"Why not get me a glass of 'Green Fairy' too? I was the one who told you the truth just now, and I can even tell you the whole story about this kid's situation!" the lean middle-aged man who first exposed Lumian for telling stories every day shouted with dissatisfaction, "Outsider, I can tell that you still have doubts about the truth of that story!"

"Pierre, you'll do anything for a free drink!" Lumian responded loudly.

Before Ryan could make a decision, Lumian added:

"Why can't I tell it myself? That way I can have another glass of 'Green Fairy'?"

"Because they don't know whether to believe the situation you're describing." The middle-aged man named Pierre laughed triumphantly, "The story your sister loves to tell children the most is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf'; those who always lie will inevitably lose their credibility."

"Fine." Lumian shrugged, watching the bartender push a glass of pale green liquid toward him.

Ryan looked at him, asking for his opinion:

"Is that okay?"

"No problem, as long as your wallet can cover the cost of these drinks." Lumian didn't care at all.

"Then another glass of 'Green Fairy'." Ryan nodded.

Pierre was instantly all smiles:

"Generous outsider, this kid is the biggest prankster in the village; you must stay away from him.

"Five years ago, he was brought back to the village by his sister Aurore and hasn't left since. Think about it, before that, he was only thirteen; how could he have gone to a hospital to be a corpse keeper? Hmm, the nearest hospital to us is in Daliege at the foot of the mountain, a whole afternoon's walk away."

"Brought back to the village?" Leah asked keenly.

She tilted her head slightly, producing a jingling sound.

Pierre nodded:

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"Then, he took Aurore's surname 'Lee', and even the name 'Lumian' was chosen by Aurore."

"I've even forgotten what I was called originally." Lumian took a sip of absinthe and said with a grin.

It seemed he wasn't the least bit inferior or ashamed about his past being exposed like this.