Chapter 115

122. The Person Died in the Morning, the Body Committed Suicide in the Evening

"I am a failure, and I barely pay attention to whether the sun is shining or not, because I have no time.

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

"I looked for many jobs, but I couldn't get hired. Perhaps no one likes someone who isn't good at speaking, doesn't love communicating, and hasn't shown enough ability."

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"I went three whole days eating only two pieces of bread. Hunger made it impossible for me to sleep at night. Fortunately, I had paid a month's rent in advance, so I could continue living in that dark basement without having to go outside and endure the abnormally cold winter wind.

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

"The hospital at night was even colder than I had imagined. The wall lamps in the corridor weren't lit, and it was dim everywhere; I could only rely on the little bit of light seeping out from the rooms to help me see where I was stepping.

"The smell there was awful. From time to time, the deceased would be sent over stuffed in body bags, and we would work together to help move them into the morgue.

"It wasn't a very good job, but at least it allowed me to afford bread, and the free time at night could be used for studying. After all, no one was willing to come to the morgue unless there were bodies that needed to be delivered or transported for cremation. Of course, I didn't have enough money to buy books yet, and for now, I couldn't see any hope of saving money.

"I have to thank my predecessor; if it weren't for his sudden resignation, I might not have even been able to get a job like this.

"I dreamed of being able to rotate to the day shift. Now, I always sleep when the sun comes out and wake up after night falls, which has made my body a bit weak, and my head occasionally throbs with pain.

"One day, the movers brought in a new body.

"I heard from others that this was my predecessor who had suddenly resigned.

"I was a bit curious about him. 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 very frightening in the extremely dim light.

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

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

"I reached out and touched that mark; there was nothing special about it.

"Looking at this predecessor, 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 throw them away in some random river or wasteland.

"This would sacrifice a morning of my sleep, but fortunately, it would be Sunday soon, so I could make it up.

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

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

"After that day, every time I slept, I would always dream of a thick fog.

"I had a premonition that something would happen soon, a premonition that sooner or later, something that I didn't know if I could call human would come looking for me. But no one was willing to believe me; they felt that in such an environment and such a job, my mind had become a bit abnormal and I needed to see a doctor..."

A male guest sitting at the bar looked toward 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 bowler hat by his side.

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

And the storyteller in his eyes was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, with a tall, straight figure and slender limbs, also with short black hair and light blue eyes, but with deep-set features that could make one's eyes light up.

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

"And then?

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"Then I resigned and went back to the countryside to come here and brag to you."

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

That male guest was stunned for a moment:

"Was what you just told me bragging?"

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

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

"Outsider, you actually believed Lumian's story? He tells a different one every day. Yesterday, he was still a loser whose engagement was broken by his fiancée because of poverty, and today he's become a morgue attendant!"

"Right, talking about thirty years on the east side of the Cerenz River, thirty years on the right side of the Cerenz River, he only knows how to babble nonsense!" another tavern regular followed up.

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

The black-haired young man called Lumian propped himself up on the bar with both hands, slowly stood up, and said with a grin:

"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 saying that, he turned his body to the side, spread his hands toward the outsider, and laughed brightly:

"It seems she writes really well.

"Sorry, I let you misunderstand."

That man in the brown tweed jacket with the ordinary appearance wasn't angry; he stood up as well and responded with a smile:

"A very interesting story.

"How should I address you?"

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

That 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 next to him.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with yellow hair dusted with powder, eyes that weren't very large but had a color slightly deeper than lake blue, wearing a white vest, a blue fine-wool coat, and black trousers; he had clearly dressed up carefully before going out.

He had a rather cold expression and didn't really look at the surrounding farmers and herdsmen.

That woman looked younger than the two men, with long light gray hair tied into a complex bun, wrapped in a white veil that served as a hat.

Her eyes were the same color as her hair, and the look she directed at Lumian carried undisguised amusement; she seemed to find what had just happened merely interesting.

Under the illumination of the tavern's gas wall lamps, this woman named Leah revealed a pert nose and beautifully curved lips; in a countryside village like Cordu, 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 Ma-Xier boots. There were even two small silver bells tied to her veil and boots respectively. When she walked into the tavern just now, she jingled all the way, which was very eye-catching, making many men stare straight at her.

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

Lumian nodded at the three outsiders:

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

"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 that the surrounding farmers and herdsmen looked puzzled, he explained further:

"Those who have had contact with sailors and sea merchants all know that there is such a saying circulating on the Five Seas:

"I would rather encounter those pirate generals or even kings than run into a person named Frank Lee.

"That person's surname is also Lee."

"Is he very scary?" Lumian asked.

Ryan shook his head:

"I'm not sure, but since there is such a legend, it certainly won'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 wasn't polite at all and sat back down.

Ryan Cos frowned slightly and said:

"'Green Fairy'... Absinthe?

"I think I need to remind you that absinthe 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 already spread here." Leah, who was beside him, 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 can allow our spirits to obtain greater relaxation."

"Alright." 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" was a famous fruit shochu.

"Why don't you give 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 situation of this kid exactly as it is!" The thin, middle-aged man who had first exposed that Lumian told stories every day shouted with dissatisfaction, "Outsider, I can tell that you are still skeptical about whether that story is true or false!"

"Pierre, you really can do anything for a free drink!" Lumian responded loudly.

Without waiting for Ryan to make a decision, Lumian added:

"Why can't it be me telling it myself? That way I can drink another glass of 'Green Fairy'?"

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

"Alright." Lumian shrugged his shoulders and watched the bartender push a glass of pale green liquid in front of him.

Ryan looked at him and asked:

"Is that okay?"

"No problem, as long as your wallet is enough to pay for these drinks." Lumian didn't care at all.

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

Pierre was suddenly 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 has never left since. Think about it, before that, he was only thirteen years old; how could he possibly go to a hospital to be a morgue attendant? Hmm, the nearest hospital to us is in Daliege at the foot of the mountain, which takes a whole afternoon to walk to."

"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 followed Aurore and took the surname 'Lee', and even the name 'Lumian' was given by Aurore."

"I've forgotten what I was originally called." Lumian drank a mouthful of absinthe and said with a grin.

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