Chapter 106: An Overly Simple Battle

I'm a failure; I barely notice whether the sunlight is brilliant or not, because I have no time.

My parents couldn't support me, my education was low, and I was alone in the city searching for a future.

I applied for many jobs but was never hired—perhaps no one liked someone who wasn't good at speaking, avoided communication, and showed no sufficient ability.

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I went three full days eating only two loaves of bread; hunger kept me awake at night, but luckily I'd paid a month's rent in advance, so I could still live in that dark basement without having to face the bitterly cold winter winds outside.

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

The hospital nights were colder than I imagined; the corridor wall lamps weren't lit, everything was dim, and I could only see my feet by the faint light leaking from the rooms.

The smell there was awful; corpses in body bags were occasionally brought in, 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 nighttime hours could be used for studying—after all, few people wanted to come to the morgue unless a corpse needed to be delivered or taken away for cremation. Of course, I still couldn't afford books, and I saw no hope of saving money.

I owe thanks to my predecessor; if he hadn't suddenly quit, I might not have gotten even this job.

I dreamed of switching to daytime shifts; now I always slept when the sun rose and woke when night fell, making my body weak and occasionally giving me headaches.

One day, a laborer brought in a new corpse.

Others said it was my former colleague who had suddenly quit.

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 bluish-white and covered in wrinkles, terrifying under the dim light.

He had little hair, most of it white; all his clothes had been removed, 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 exact shape; the lighting was too dim.

I reached out and touched the mark; it felt nothing special.

Looking at my former colleague, I wondered: if I kept going like this, when I grew old, would I end up like him…?

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

It'll cost me one morning's sleep, but luckily Sunday's coming—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 even dimmer…

Ever since that day, every time I slept, I dreamed of thick fog.

I sensed something was about to happen soon, sensed that something—something I couldn't even call human—would come for me eventually, but no one believed me; they thought the environment and the job had made me mentally unstable, that I needed to see a doctor…

A male customer sitting 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 people in the tavern: black hair, pale blue eyes, neither ugly nor handsome, lacking any distinctive features.

To his eyes, the storyteller was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, tall and slender-limbed, also with short black hair and pale blue eyes, but with sharp features that caught 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, came here to brag to you."

As he spoke, a mischievous smile appeared on his face.

The male customer blinked in surprise:

"You were just making up that story?"

"Ha!" Laughter erupted around the bar.

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

"Foreigner, 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 corpse watcher!"

"Yeah, he talks nonsense about thirty years on the east side of the Serenzo River, thirty years on the right side—just rambling!" added another regular.

They were all farmers from the large village of Keldu, wearing short jackets in 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 stories and's even a columnist for The Novel Weekly."

He turned his body sideways, spread his hands toward the foreign guest, and grinned brightly:

"Looks like she writes pretty well."

"Sorry for misleading you."

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

"An interesting story."

"What's your name?"

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

The foreign guest nodded:

"I'm Ryan Cos."

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

He meant the man and woman sitting beside him.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with yellow hair lightly powdered, eyes slightly darker than lake-blue, wearing a white vest, a blue fine wool coat, and black trousers—he'd clearly dressed carefully before leaving home.

He looked cold and rarely glanced at the farmers or shepherds around him.

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

Her eyes matched her hair color, and her gaze toward Lumi'an held unhidden amusement, as if she found the whole incident merely entertaining.

Under the glow of the gas lanterns in the tavern, the woman named Lya revealed a straight, delicate nose and beautifully curved lips—undoubtedly a beauty by the standards of Kordo Village.

She wore a white, pleatless cashmere body-hugging dress, paired with a beige cropped jacket and a pair of Marsil boots, each with a small silver bell tied to her veil and boots; as she walked into the tavern, the bells jingled all the way, drawing every eye—and leaving many men staring dumbfounded.

In their eyes, such fashion belonged only to great cities like Bigor, the provincial capital, or Trier, the imperial capital.

Lumián nodded to the three outsiders:

"I'm Lumián Li. You can just call me Lumián."

"Li?" Lya blurted out.

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

Lyon Cos helped Lya explain:

"That surname terrifies me—I almost couldn't control my voice just now."

Seeing the farmers and shepherds around them looking confused, he added:

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

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

"His surname is also Li."

"Is he that terrifying?" Lumián asked.

Lyon shook his head:

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

He dropped the subject and said to Lumián:

"Thank you for your story—it deserves a drink. What would you like?"

"A 'Green Fairy.'" Lumián didn't hesitate, sitting back down.

Lyon Cos frowned slightly:

"'Green Fairy'… absinthe?"

"I should warn you—absinthe is harmful to the body. This drink can cause madness and hallucinations."

"I didn't realize Trier's trends had reached here," Lya added with a smile.

Lumián "oh"ed:

"So people in Trier like drinking 'Green Fairy' too…"

"For us, life is hard enough already—we don't need to care about a little extra harm. This drink lets our spirits relax more."

"Alright." Lyon sat back down and called to the bartender, "One 'Green Fairy,' and another 'Spicy Heart.'"

"Spicy Heart" was a famous fruit brandy.

"Why not give me a 'Green Fairy' too? I was the one who revealed the truth—I can tell you everything about this kid!" the thin middle-aged man who first exposed Lumián's daily stories shouted, "Outsiders, I can tell—you still doubt whether his story's true!"

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

Before Lyon could decide, Lumián added:

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

"Because they don't know whether to believe what you say," Pierre grinned smugly. "Your sister's favorite story to tell children is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf.' A habitual liar loses all credibility."

"Alright." Lumián shrugged, watching the bartender slide a pale green drink before him.

Lyon looked at him, asking:

"Is that fine?"

"Sure, as long as your wallet can cover the cost of these drinks." Lumián didn't care.

"Then another 'Green Fairy.'" Lyon nodded.

Pierre's face lit up:

"Generous outsiders, this boy is the village's biggest prankster—stay far away from him.

"Five years ago, his sister Auror brought him back to the village, and he's never left since. Think about it—he was only thirteen before that. How could he have ever worked as a corpse watcher in a hospital? The nearest hospital is in Dalié, down the mountain—a full afternoon's walk."

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

She tilted her head slightly, setting off a jingle of bells.

Pierre nodded:

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"Then he took Auror's surname 'Li,' and even his name 'Lumián' was given by her."

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

He showed no shame or embarrassment at having his past exposed like this.