Chapter 417: Meeting Ahetamu Again

"Karak-Angul is not easy to attack."

Sinuoli muttered while stroking his beard; in his view, the difficulty there was not much different from Eight Peaks, only the nature of the difficulty was different—one was tactical, the other strategic.

"Since the Ancestor Gods have awakened, and with the great... you and Belagar achieved in the Southlands..."

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

"My parents could not provide me with support, my education is not high, and I am alone in the city searching for a future."

"I looked for many jobs, but I was never hired; perhaps no one likes someone who is not good at speaking, does not love to communicate, and has not shown sufficient ability."

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"I went three whole days eating only two loaves of bread; hunger kept me from sleeping at night. Fortunately, I had paid a month's rent in advance, so I could continue to live in that dark basement without having to go outside to endure the abnormally cold winter wind."

"Finally, I found a job, keeping watch at a hospital, keeping watch over the morgue."

"The nights at the hospital were even colder than I imagined. The wall lamps in the corridor were not lit, and it was dim everywhere; I could only rely on the tiny bit of light seeping out from the rooms to help me see my feet."

"The smell there was terrible. From time to time, the dead were sent over stuffed in body bags, and we would cooperate to help move them into the morgue."

"This was not 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 is willing to come to the morgue unless there is a corpse that needs to be delivered or transported for cremation. Of course, I did not have enough money to buy books, and currently, I see no 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 such a job."

"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 porter delivered a new corpse."

"I heard from others that this was my former colleague 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 with a face both blue and white, covered in wrinkles, looking very frightening under the extremely dim light."

"He did not 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 cannot describe its exact appearance; the light at the time was truly too dim."

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

"Looking at this former colleague, I wondered, if I continue like this, when I get old, will I be the same as 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 matters wouldn't find it troublesome and just throw them in some random river or wasteland."

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

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

"The light in the room seemed to get 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 don't know if it can be called human would come looking for me, but no one was willing to believe me, thinking that in such an environment and such a job, my mind had become unstable and I needed 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 bowler hat at his side.

He looked ordinary, just like most people in the tavern: black hair, light blue eyes, not handsome, 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 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.

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

"And then?

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"Then I quit, returned to the countryside, and came here to 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:

"The things you just told were 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? What he tells every day is different. Yesterday he was a poor wretch whose engagement was broken off by his fiancée, and today he has become a corpse-keeper!"

"Right, saying things like 'thirty years on the east side of the Sarenzo River, thirty years on the right side of the Sarenzo River,' just babbling nonsense!" another tavern regular added.

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

The black-haired young man called Lumian leaned on the bar with both hands, slowly stood up, 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 guest from out of town, and smiled brightly:

"It seems she writes really well.

"Sorry, I let you misunderstand."

That man in the brown tweed jacket with the ordinary appearance was not 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.

The guest from out of town nodded:

"My name is Ryan Cos.

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

The latter sentence referred to the man and woman sitting right next to him.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, his yellow hair dusted with powder, his eyes, which were not large, having a color a bit 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 looked quite indifferent, not really glancing at the surrounding farmers and herdsmen.

That woman looked younger than the two men, her 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 light of the tavern's gas wall lamp, this woman named Lea revealed a pert nose and beautifully curved lips, making her an absolute beauty in a countryside place like Kordu village.

She wore a white, unpleated cashmere tight-fitting dress, paired with a beige short jacket and a pair of Masier Boots; there were two small silver Bell tied to her veil and boots respectively, and as she walked into the tavern just now, she jingled all the way, which was very eye-catching and made many men stare blankly.

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

Lumian nodded to the three strangers:

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

"Lee?" Lea blurted out.

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

Ryan Cos explained for Lea:

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

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

"Those who have had contact with sailors and maritime merchants all know 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 very scary?" Lumian asked.

Ryan shook his head:

"I don't know, but since there is such a legend, it certainly won't be bad."

He cut off this topic and said to Lumian:

"Thank you for your story, it is worth a drink, what would you like?"

"A glass of 'Green Fairy'." Lumian was not polite at all 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 already spread here." Lea, 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 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 give me a glass of 'Spicy Heart' as well."

"Spicy Heart" is a famous fruit shochu.

"Why not give me a glass of 'Green Fairy' too? I was the one who told you the truth just now, and I can tell you the situation of this kid exactly as it is!" The thin, middle-aged man who first exposed that Lumian told stories every day shouted with dissatisfaction, "Strangers, I can tell that you still have doubts about the truth of that story!"

"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 I tell it myself? That way I could 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 most is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf'; people who always lie will inevitably lose their credibility."

"Fine." Lumian shrugged his shoulders, watching the bartender push a glass of pale green liquid in front of him.

Ryan looked at him and asked for confirmation:

"Is this 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 strangers, 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 corpse guard? Hmm, the closest hospital to us is in Daliege down the mountain, which takes a whole afternoon to walk to."

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

She tilted her head slightly, which produced a Elf sound.

Pierre nodded:

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

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

It seemed that he was not at all self-deprecating or ashamed that his past was being exposed like this.