Chapter 2. The Mysterious Man
(Third Person Perspective) - (Note: henceforth, it shall be composed solely in the third-person perspective)
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Upon opening his eyes, El found himself gazing at a wooden ceiling that seemed to greet him in return. As his sight gradually returned, the image resembled that of a canvas delicately brushed by a skilled painter's hand. It took a moment for his brain to process this realization, but eventually, he understood that he was alive and well, despite having been taken by those mysterious people.
"Uh… uh…"
At first, he struggled to move his mouth and tongue―until words finally took shape.
"W-where… am I?" he muttered to himself. He was certain this was not the library in the village, as he vividly recalls the moment when the wooden ceiling nearly collapsed on him.
Propping himself up, El realized something was underneath him. He looked down, and much to his shock. 'Huh… Bed? Is this really a bed???'
He touched, punched, pushed, and kneaded it―he explored it in every way he could. His eyes flickered with curiosity and awe. Apart from the occasional experiences that came to him through his fragmented dreams, he had never truly understood what a bed was in real life. It felt fluffy, comfy, and soft.
"I must have been missing this for years," he thought, gazing at it with a complex mix of emotions. In the village, he had always slept on the floor.
There was another astonishing thing he took notice of.
And that was, his arms were bigger, longer, and not as thin, dry, and tanned as he remembered.
Suddenly, fragments of memories surged forcefully into his mind. A stabbing pain that continuously throbbed. It was excruciating. He clutched his head tightly, which was wrapped in a bandage.
After a minute passed, the memories faded, leaving him with nothing.
He couldn't even grasp what those memories had been. At this point, he was becoming accustomed to this disorientation. Sometimes, he recognized the memories, but often they eluded him entirely.
"I've lost my memories again. It's been way longer than before. Surely years… Besides that, how did I even end up here?"
Shaking his head in exasperation, he realized this was the first time he had experienced such long gaps between his recollections. His small, thin arms and malnourished frame were nowhere to be found anymore. He was healthier this time around, taller and undeniably older.
Clenching his fingers tightly, he discovered an unfamiliar strength within his band of muscles. He scrunched his eyebrows, feeling even more weirded out. Though it didn't last long. As long as he was alive, everything was well, good enough for him.
"What a great day. The only thing I lack right now is… a delicious meal," he said to himself―the corner of his lips lifted to form a faint smile. Yet, deep inside, he still felt a little unsettled by his current condition.
*Clack*
Unexpectedly, the sound of the door unlocking reverberated through the room, causing El's body to taut instinctively. He pushed aside the soft, white blanket, jumped up, and attempted to stand on the floor. However, he would soon realize that this was a terrible mistake.
*Thud*
His lower half was stiff and numb, causing his feet to inevitably skid on the floor. He slipped and fell to the ground, almost face-planting. Luckily, his palm and forearm managed to catch his head from kissing the ground just in time.
"So, you're awake?"
El's head turned toward the source of that deep, gruff voice. He found out it was a middle-aged man: short blonde hair, wearing black clothes. Stocky with well-defined muscles, visible beneath the tight, long-sleeved shirt.
He was exceptionally tall and broad, too. His body filled the doorway and nearly reached the ceiling. He had to bow slightly just to enter the room.
"Ummmm, who are you???" El asked after a second of hesitation.
"You've lost your memories again. Well, with what's happened before, it isn't much of a surprise…" he replied with a nod. A thin beard on his face gave him a rather stern appearance.
*Cklek*
Closing the door behind him, he casually walked inside, slowly approaching a wooden bookshelf, a study table, and a chair located on the side of the room. His fingers brushed gently against the spines of the books, and his eyes seemed drawn to something—somewhere.
Finally regaining enough strength and feeling in his legs, El pulled away from the man, bending one knee to the ground. His arms poised to retaliate.
The man could sense El's cautious gaze upon him. Shifting his attention from the books to El, he walked over to the chair, raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head slightly once to the side.
"Being wary of strangers—it's nice to see you haven't lost that edge yet," he said as he settled into the chair.
Heaving a sigh, the man looked into El's eyes. "Remember this: your name is Gabriel. But you must not use it under any circumstances. Understood?!"
"... Why not? Besides, who are you anyway?" El replied, confusion and displeasure clearly displayed on his face. 'What the heck? Who are you to name me like a kitten?!'
"I am… You don't need to know that. You just need to trust me. If I tell you to go south, you go south. If I tell you to go north, you go north. If I tell you not to go west or east, then don't go. Do not ever go! From now on, your name is El. Only El. Etch it in your mind, understand?"
"Wow, are you seriously telling me to do what you want when this is our first meeting? Should I just say yes if you tell me to sell myself into slavery?" El countered, baffled.
"I won't do that. Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
He leaned forward, still sitting in the poor, normal-sized chair. Rested his elbows on his knees, his solemn eyes locked onto El.
"How am I supposed to trust you? You're not very bright, are you, sir?" El shot back and gave a stinging side eye.
At that, the man's lips twitched slightly.
"Anyway, you need to trust me if you don't want to die. That's all there is to it. And…" the man paused.
"And… What???"
"Food is on me," he smirked.
El's eyes widened. He blinked in disbelief, questioning whether he had misheard. "You mean… gulp… food's on you? Like what people say—free, right?" His interest piqued, particularly at the mention of 'food.' It felt as if his brain had just been rebooted—his caution flew out the window, and his wit was pushed to the side of the road.
'What the… what day is it today? It must be a new year, right?' El thought, laughing internally at the unexpected windfall that had fallen into his lap. He didn't care if the food was just a trap to use him; as long as it was food, he would dive right in and think later.
"Yes, hahaha… Yes, kid. It's free," the man replied, clearly amused by El's antics.
"For me??? Free?" El's eyes sparkled with growing excitement.
"Yes. It is."
"Alright, I am at your beck and call, sir," El said gleefully, a big smile spreading across his face. Still genuflecting, he placed his palm on his chest, above his heart, mimicking the knights from his many dreams.
He didn't fully understand the meaning of this gesture; he just felt it seemed important.
"Good, let's go then. We're getting food at an amazing place," the man then stood up.
"Sir, if I may ask, you know me, don't you? For how long? You even know about my memories. What… what happened after I was taken from the village?" El shortly stopped the man by walking in front of him.
"… This isn't the first time we've met. We've spent time together for quite a while now. If this is about your memory loss, I'm sorry, but for many reasons, I can't say more right now…"
The man shook his head.
"... Okay then. How about this? Why should I only use El if I have a name, sir? Gabriel, huh? Where does that name even come from?" El asked, curious about the answer. He thought the name Gabriel wasn't bad, but it felt just a bit girlish for his taste.
"Hmmmm… I'll tell you later. Come now, I'm hungry too…"
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