Chapter 1513: The Mission

"I am a failure; I hardly notice whether the sun is brilliant or not, because I have no time.

"My parents could not provide me with support, my education was not high, and I was alone in the city seeking a future.

"I applied for many jobs, but none hired me; perhaps no one likes someone who is bad at speaking, dislikes communication, and has not shown enough ability.

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"For three full days I ate only two loaves of bread; hunger kept me awake at night. Fortunately, I had paid a month's rent in advance, so I could still stay in that dark basement and did not have to go outside to endure winter's unusually cold wind."

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

"The hospital's nights were colder than I imagined; the corridor wall lamps were unlit, everything was dim, and I could only rely on the faint light seeping out from the rooms to see my feet.

"The smell there was foul; from time to time, the dead were delivered stuffed in body bags, and we assisted in carrying them into the morgue.

"This was not a good job, but at least it let me afford bread; my free time at night could be used for study. After all, few people were willing to come to the morgue unless a body needed to be delivered or taken away for cremation. Of course, I did not yet have enough money to buy books, and at present I saw no hope of saving any.

"I must thank my former colleague; if he had not suddenly resigned, I might not have obtained even such a job.

"I dreamed of being able to switch to daytime shifts; now I always sleep when the sun comes out and rise when night falls, which has made my body somewhat weak, and my head occasionally throbs.

"One day, the porters delivered a new corpse.

"According to others, 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, his face blue and white, covered in wrinkles, looking very frightening under the very dim light.

"He had little hair, most of it white; his clothes had all been removed, leaving not a single scrap of fabric for him.

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"I saw a strange mark on his chest, blue-black; I could not describe its exact appearance, as the light at that time was truly too dim.

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

"Looking at this former colleague, I thought: if I continue like this, when I grow old, will I be like him...

"I told him that tomorrow I would accompany him to the crematorium and personally bring his ashes to the nearest free cemetery, so that those responsible for such matters would not find it troublesome and simply throw them into any river or wasteland.

"This would sacrifice a morning of my sleep, but it was fine; Sunday was coming soon, and I could make it up.

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

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

"After that day, every time I slept, I always dreamed of a great fog.

"I sensed that something would happen soon; I sensed that sooner or later something that might not even be called human would come to find me. Yet no one was willing to believe me; they thought that in such an environment and with such a job, my mind had become somewhat abnormal and that I needed to see a doctor..."

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

"And then?"

This male guest was in his thirties, wearing a brown tweed jacket and pale yellow trousers; his hair was pressed very flat, and a simple dark round hat lay beside his hand.

He looked ordinary, like most people in the tavern: black hair, light blue eyes, neither handsome nor ugly, lacking obvious features.

And the storyteller in his eyes was an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old youth, tall and straight, with long limbs; he also had short black hair and light blue eyes, yet his features were sharp, capable of catching one's eye at once.

This young man looked at the empty wine glass before him and sighed:

"And then?

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"And then I quit and returned 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.

That male guest was stunned for a moment:

"Were those things you just told a boast?"

"Haha." Laughter erupted around the bar.

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

"Outlander, you actually believed Lumian's story? What he tells every day is different; yesterday he was a unlucky fellow whose fiancée broke off the engagement due to poverty, and today he has become a corpse-keeper!"

"Yes, talking nonsense about thirty years on the east bank of the Sarenzo River and thirty years on the right bank of the Sarenzo River; he only knows how to babble!" another tavern regular added.

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

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

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

After speaking, he turned his body, gestured with an open hand toward that foreign guest, and smiled brilliantly:

"It seems she writes very well.

"I am sorry for making you misunderstand."

That man wearing a brown tweed jacket, with an ordinary appearance, was not angry; he stood up and replied with a smile:

"A very interesting story.

"What should I call you?"

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

That outlander guest nodded:

"My name is Ryan Koss.

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

The latter sentence referred to a man and a woman sitting nearby.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old; his yellow hair was dusted with powder, his not-large eyes had a color slightly deeper than lake blue, and he wore a white vest, a blue fine-tweed coat, and black trousers; he had clearly taken care to dress up before going out.

His expression was rather cold; he did not look much at the farmers and herdsmen around him.

That woman appeared younger than the two men; her long, light-gray hair was tied into an elaborate bun, and she wore a white veil as a hat.

Her eyes were the same color as her hair; her gaze toward Lumian carried undisguised amusement, and she seemed to find only the events that had just occurred entertaining.

Under the glow of the tavern's gas wall lamps, this woman named Lya revealed a straight, pretty nose and lips with a beautiful curve; in a rural place like Kordu Village, she would absolutely be considered a beauty.

She wore a white, pleatless cashmere tight dress, paired with a cream-colored small jacket and a pair of Mischir long boots; two small silver bells were tied to her veil and boots respectively. When she first walked into the tavern, they jingled all the way, drawing great attention and leaving many men staring with wide eyes.

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

Lumian nodded to the three outsiders:

"My name is Lumian Lee. You can just call me Lumian."

"Lee?" Lya blurted out.

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

Ryan Kos explained for Lya:

"Your surname makes people fearful; I almost couldn't control my voice just now."

Seeing the farmers and herdsmen around look confused, he explained further:

"Anyone who has come into contact with sailors and sea merchants knows there is a saying circulating above 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 terrifying?" Lumian asked.

Ryan shook his head:

"I don't know, 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 deserves a glass of wine. What do you want?"

"A glass of 'Green Fairy'." Lumian was not at all polite and sat down again.

Ryan Kos frowned slightly and said:

"'Green Fairy'... absinthe?

"I think I need to remind you that absinthe is harmful to the human body; this wine can cause mental confusion and make you experience hallucinations."

"I didn't expect the popular trends of Trier to have spread here." Lya, sitting beside him, added with a smile.

Lumian made an "Oh" sound:

"So people in Trier also like drinking 'Green Fairy'...

"For us, life is already hard enough; there's no need to care about a little more harm. This wine can give our spirits greater relaxation."

"Alright." Ryan sat back in his seat, looked at the bartender, and said, "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; I can also tell the whole story about this kid!" The first thin middle-aged man who exposed Lumian's daily storytelling shouted in dissatisfaction. "Outsiders, I can tell you still have doubts about the truth of that story!"

"Pierre, for a free glass of wine, you're willing to do anything!" Lumian responded loudly.

Before Ryan could make a decision, Lumian added:

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

"Because they don't know whether to believe the situation you described." The middle-aged man named Pierre smiled triumphantly. "The story your sister loves most to tell children is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf'. A person who always lies will inevitably lose credibility."

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

Ryan looked at him and asked for confirmation:

"Is it okay?"

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

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

Pierre immediately wore a full smile:

"Generous outsiders, this kid is the one in the village who loves pranks the most; you must stay far away from him.

"Five years ago, his sister Olor brought him back to the village, and he has never left since. Think about it; before that, he was only thirteen years old. How could he possibly work as a corpse keeper in a hospital? Hmm, the nearest hospital to us is in Daliye at the foot of the mountain; it takes a whole afternoon to walk there."

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

She tilted her head slightly, producing a jingling sound.

Pierre nodded:

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

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

It seemed he felt neither inferiority nor shame about his past being exposed like this.