Chapter 1511: A Warning from the Academy

"I'm a failure, hardly paying attention to whether the sunshine is bright or not, because I have no time.

"My parents couldn't provide me any support, my education isn't high either, alone in the city searching for a future.

"I looked for many jobs, but none of them would hire me—probably because no one likes a person who isn't good at talking, doesn't love to socialize, and hasn't shown enough ability.

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

"Finally, I found a job—keeping night watch at a hospital, keeping night watch for the morgue.

"The hospital nights were colder than I imagined, the wall lamps in the corridor weren't lit, everywhere was dim, I could only rely on the little bit of light seeping out from the rooms to see my feet.

"The smell there was hard to endure, from time to time the dead would be stuffed into body bags and sent over, we worked together to help move them into the morgue.

"This isn't a very good job, but at least it lets me afford bread, and the free time at night can be used to study—after all, not many people are willing to come to the morgue, unless there's a corpse that needs to be delivered or taken away for cremation. Of course, I don't have enough money to buy books yet, and right now I can't see any hope of saving up.

"I have to thank my predecessor colleague—if he hadn't suddenly quit, I might not have even been able to get a job like this.

"I dream of being able to rotate to the day shift. Right now I always sleep when the sun comes up and get up after night falls, which has made my body a bit weak, and my head occasionally throbs.

"One day, the porters brought in a new corpse.

"From what others said, it was my predecessor colleague who had suddenly quit.

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

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

"He didn't have much hair, most of it white, all his clothes had been stripped off—not even a single piece of fabric left on him.

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"I saw a strange mark on his chest, a bluish-black one, I couldn't describe its exact shape—the lighting at the time was really too dim.

"I reached out and touched that mark, nothing special.

"Looking at this predecessor colleague, I was thinking—if I keep going on like this, when I'm old, will I end up just like him…

"I said to him that tomorrow I'd accompany him to the crematorium, personally bring his ashes to the nearest free cemetery, so as to spare those in charge of such things the trouble of just finding some river or wasteland and dumping him there.

"This would cost me one morning's sleep, but that's fine—Sunday is coming up, I can make it up then.

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

"The lighting in the room seemed to grow even dimmer…

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

"I had a premonition that something would happen soon, a premonition that sooner or later something that might not be called human would come looking for me. But no one was willing to believe me—they thought that working in an environment like that, my mind had become a bit abnormal, that I needed to see a doctor…"

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

"And then?"

This male guest was in his thirties, wearing a brown tweed jacket and pale yellow trousers, his hair pressed very flat, with a crude dark bowler hat beside his hand.

He looked ordinary, just like most people in the tavern—black hair, pale blue eyes, neither good-looking nor ugly, lacking any obvious distinguishing features.

And the storyteller in his eyes was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, with an upright build, long limbs, likewise short black hair and pale blue eyes, but with sharp, striking features that caught the eye.

This young man gazed at the empty wine glass before him, sighed, and said:

"And then?

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"And then I quit and went back to the countryside, came here to shoot the breeze with you."

As he spoke, a smile spread across his face—a smile with a teasing sort of meaning.

That male guest was taken aback for a moment:

"Everything you just told was shooting the breeze?"

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

When the laughter subsided a little, a thin 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 still a poor wretch whose engagement was broken off by his fiancée because of poverty, and today he's turned into a corpse watcher!"

"Right on—saying something about thirty years on the east bank of the Serenzo River, thirty years on the right bank of the Serenzo River, nothing but nonsense!" another tavern regular chimed in.

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

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

"You all know this isn't a story I made up—it's all written by my older sister. She loves writing stories the most, she's even a column writer for some 'Novel Weekly'."

After saying that, he turned sideways, spread his hands toward the outsider guest, and grinned brightly:

"Looks like she really wrote it well.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding."

The man in the brown tweed jacket, ordinary in appearance, didn't get angry, stood up as well, and replied with a smile:

"A very interesting story.

"How should I address you?"

"Isn't it common sense to introduce yourself before asking others?" Lumian said with a smile.

The outsider guest nodded:

"My name is Ryan. Kos.

"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, with a bit of powder dusted over his blond hair, not-very-large eyes a shade deeper than lake-blue, wearing a white waistcoat, a blue fine-tweed jacket, and black trousers—he had clearly dressed up carefully before going out.

His expression was rather cold, and he didn't pay much attention to the farmers and herdsmen around him.

That woman looked younger than the two men, her pale grey long hair tied into a complicated bun, wrapped in a white veil serving as a hat.

Her eyes were the same color as her hair, and the gaze she turned on Lumian carried undisguised amusement—she seemed to find what had just happened merely entertaining.

Under the tavern's gas wall lamps, the woman called Liya revealed a pert nose and beautifully curved lips — in a backwater village like Cordu, she could absolutely be called a beauty.

She wore a white, pleatless cashmere bodycon dress, paired with an off-white short jacket and a pair of Maxir long boots; a veil and the boots each had a small silver bell tied to them, and when she walked into the tavern just now, she went jingle-jangle the whole way, drawing a great deal of attention and making quite a few men stare straight ahead.

In their eyes, this had to be the kind of fashionable getup only found in big cities like the provincial capital of Bigoel or the capital of Trier.

Lumian nodded to the three out-of-towners:

"I'm Lumian Lee. You can just call me Lumian."

"Lee?" Liya blurted out.

"What is it? Is there something wrong with my surname?" Lumian asked curiously.

Ryan Koss explained on Liya's behalf:

"Your surname inspires fear. I almost couldn't control my voice just now."

Seeing the farmers and herdsmen around them looking baffled, he went on to explain:

"Anyone who's dealt with sailors or sea merchants knows there's a saying that circulates across the Five Seas:

'Better to run into those pirate generals, even those of kingly rank, than to meet a man called Frank Lee.'

"That man's surname is also Lee."

"Is he very fearsome?" Lumian asked.

Ryan shook his head:

"I don't know, but since there's such a legend, he certainly can't be far off."

He cut the topic short and said to Lumian:

"Thanks for the story. It deserves a drink. What'll you have?"

"A 'Green Fairy,'" Lumian said, not standing on ceremony at all, and sat back down.

Ryan Koss frowned slightly and said:

"'Green Fairy'… absinthe?

"I think I need to warn you — wormwood is harmful to the human body. This kind of liquor can cause mental derangement and make you hallucinate."

"I didn't expect Trier's trends had already spread all the way here." Liya beside him added with a smile.

Lumian let out an "Oh":

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

"For us, life is already hard enough — there's no need to care about a little more harm. This kind of liquor lets our spirits relax more."

"Fine." Ryan sat back in his seat, looked toward the bartender, and said, "One 'Green Fairy,' and add me a 'Heartburn.'"

"Heartburn" was a famous fruit brandy.

"Why not get me a 'Green Fairy' too? I'm the one who told you the truth earlier, and I can tell you everything about this kid, word for word!" the lean middle-aged man who had been the first to call out Lumian for telling stories every day shouted indignantly. "Out-of-towners, I can tell you still have doubts about whether that story was true or not!"

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

Before Ryan could decide, Lumian added:

"Why can't I tell it myself? That way I can have one more 'Green Fairy.'"

"Because they don't know whether to believe what you say." The middle-aged man called Pierre said with a smug grin. "Your sister's favorite story to tell the children is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf.' A person who always lies must lose credibility."

"Fine." Lumian shrugged his shoulders, watching the bartender slide a pale-green drink over to him.

Ryan looked at him and asked for confirmation:

"Is that all right?"

"No problem, as long as your wallet can cover the cost of these drinks." Lumian was entirely unbothered.

"Then one more 'Green Fairy,'" Ryan nodded.

Pierre's face immediately broke into a smile:

"Generous out-of-towners, this kid is the biggest prankster in the village. You must keep your distance from him.

"Five years ago, he was brought back to the village by his sister Aurore and never left again. Think about it — before that, he was only thirteen. How could he have gone to a hospital to be a corpse-watcher? Mhm, the nearest hospital to us is down the mountain in Dalige, a full afternoon's walk away."

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

She tilted her head slightly, producing a jingle-jangle of sound.

Pierre nodded:

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"After that, he took Aurore's surname 'Lee,' and even the name 'Lumian' was given by Aurore."

"I don't even remember what I was originally called." Lumian took a sip of absinthe and said with a grin.

He didn't look the least bit inferior or ashamed at having his past aired like this.