"I've failed. I barely even notice if the sun's shining—it's like I never have time to care.
"My parents couldn't help me out, and my education wasn't anything special either. On my own, I wandered the city looking for some kind of future.
"I applied for so many jobs, but I never got hired. Who'd want someone who can't talk right, hates people, and has no proof they're actually good for anything?
"I went three whole days eating just two loaves of bread. The hunger kept me awake at night. Thankfully, I'd already prepaid a month's rent, so I could keep living in that pitch-black basement instead of freezing my ass off outside in the dead of winter.
"Finally, I found work—a night shift job at a hospital, watching over the morgue.
"The nights at the hospital were colder than I imagined. The hallway lights weren't on, casting everything in shadow. Only the weak light leaking from under the room doors let me see where I was stepping.
"The smell there was terrible. Occasionally, corpses zipped up in body bags would arrive, and we helped move them into the morgue.
"It's not a great job, but at least I can buy bread now. At night, when things are slow, I can study too—after all, hardly anyone comes to the morgue unless it's to deliver or remove a corpse for cremation. Still, I can't afford books yet, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.
"I guess I should thank my old coworker—if he hadn't quit so suddenly, even this job might've been beyond my reach.
"I wish I could switch to day shifts. Right now, I sleep when the sun rises and wake when night falls, which left my body feeling weaker. Sometimes my head pounds like hell.
"One day, carriers dropped off a new corpse.
"They told me afterward—it was my former colleague who had quit abruptly.
"I was curious about him. After everyone left, I pulled out the drawer and secretly opened the body bag.
"He was an old man, his face pale and bluish, lined with deep wrinkles, looking pretty scary under the dim lighting.
"His hair was thinning, mostly white, and he'd been stripped completely naked—not a single piece of cloth remained on him.
"I noticed a strange mark on his chest, bluish-black in color. I couldn't describe its exact shape since the lighting was so poor then.
"I reached out and touched it slightly—nothing unusual happened.
"Staring at this old coworker, I wondered—if I kept living like this, would I end up just like him when I got old…?
"I told him I'd go with him to the crematorium tomorrow, scatter his ashes myself at the nearest free cemetery so whoever's in charge wouldn't just dump them wherever—a river or some empty lot.
"Sure, I'd lose a morning's sleep, but that's fine—Sunday's just around the corner. I can catch up then."
"Once I finished that sentence, I secured the body bag and shoved it back into the cabinet.
"The light in the room seemed dimmer...
"After that day, every time I went to sleep, I always dreamed of thick fog.
"I had a feeling something would happen soon, sensing sooner or later something unidentifiable—something barely describable as human—would come looking for me. But nobody believed me. They thought working under such circumstances had made me mentally unstable, and that I needed to see a doctor..."
A male customer sitting at the bar stared at the storyteller who suddenly stopped talking:
"And then what happened?"
The man appeared to be in his thirties. He wore a brown tweed jacket and light yellow trousers. His hair was neatly flattened down, with a simple dark-colored bowler hat placed beside his hand.
He looked unremarkable, much like most others in the tavern—black hair and light blue eyes. Not handsome, nor ugly, lacking noticeable features.
As for the storyteller, he was a young man about eighteen or nineteen years old. Tall and straight-bodied, with long limbs. Same short black hair and light blue eyes, yet his facial features were striking and captivating.
The youth gazed at the empty wine glass before him and sighed:
"And then?
*This chapter has not ended yet!*
"Then I quit my job and went back to the countryside, just to come here and ramble on with you."
As he spoke, a smile appeared on his face, a slightly mischievous one.
The male customer paused for a moment:
"So you were just making all that up?"
"Haha." A burst of laughter erupted from around the bar.
After the laughter slightly subsided, a thin middle-aged man looked toward the somewhat embarrassed guest:
"Outsider, you actually believed Lumin's story? Every day his tales are different. Yesterday he was a poor unlucky guy whose fiancée broke off their engagement, today he's a corpse keeper!"
"Yeah, talking out of his hat about thirty years on one bank of the Sirentso, thirty on the other!" Another tavern regular chimed in.
They were all farmers from Cordoo, a large village, wearing dark-colored short jackets—black, gray, and brown.
The black-haired young man called Lumin pushed himself up using both hands on the bar counter and slowly stood, smiling cheerfully:
"You know guys, this isn't a story I made up. All of those stories were actually written by my sister. She loves writing stories and is even a columnist for *Fiction Weekly.*"
Having said that, he turned sideways, stretched out his hand toward the outsider, and smiled brightly:
"Looks like she's a pretty good writer.
*This chapter hasn't ended yet!*
"Sorry for pulling your leg."
The man wearing the brown tweed jacket, who looked quite average, didn't show any anger. Standing up as well, he smiled and responded:
"That was quite a story.
"And how should I address you?"
"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first?" Lumin grinned.
The outsider nodded:
"My name is Lane Cose.
"And these two are my travel companions, Valente and Lilya."
He said this while gesturing toward a man and a woman sitting nearby.
The man appeared to be around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old. His blonde hair had a light dusting of powder, and his not-very-large eyes were a shade darker than lake blue. He wore a white waistcoat, a blue fine-weave coat, and black trousers—clearly, he had made an effort with his appearance before going out.
His expression was quite cold—he hardly deigned to look at the farmers and herders around him.
The woman appeared younger than the two men. Her long, pale gray hair was tied up in a complex bun, covered by a white veil serving as a hat.
Her eyes matched her hair color, and when she looked at Lumin, they carried an openly amused smile, as though she found what had just happened amusing.
Under the glow of the tavern's gas wall lamps, this woman named Lilya revealed a delicate nose and perfectly curved lips—unquestionably considered a beauty in a village like Cordoo.
She wore a wrinkle-free white cashmere bodycon dress with a pale beige short jacket and a pair of Marshil boots. A pair of small silver bells adorned her veil and boots. When she walked into the tavern earlier, the tinkling sound drew many gazes, leaving several men staring in awe.
To them, such fashionable attire was something one would normally see only in big cities like the provincial capital Bergar or the capital Trile.
Lumin gave a slight nod toward the three outsiders:
"I'm Lumin Li—just call me Lumin."
"Li?" Lilya blurted.
"What? Is there something wrong with my surname?" Lumin asked curiously.
Lane Kos clarified on behalf of Lilya:
"Your surname inspires fear—even now, I almost lost control of my voice."
Seeing the confused expressions on the surrounding farmers and herders, he continued:
"Anyone who's dealt with sailors or maritime merchants knows the old saying that circulates across the five seas:
Better to face a pirate admiral or even a king than meet a man named Frank Li.
That person also has the surname Li."
"Is he really that scary?" Lumin asked.
Lane shook his head. "I've never met him, but a legend like that must carry some truth."
He dropped the subject and turned back to Lumin:
"Thanks for your story—it deserves a drink. What would you like?"
"A 'Green Fairy'," Lumin replied without hesitation, sitting back down again.
Lane Kos frowned slightly:
"A 'Green Fairy'… wormwood?
I think I should warn you—wormwood can harm the body. This drink might cause mental disorders and lead to hallucinations."
"I didn't expect fashion trends from Trile had already reached here," Lilya added with a smile beside him.
Lumin "oh-ed":
"So people in Trile also enjoy drinking 'Green Fairy'…
Life's hard enough as it is. A little more damage doesn't matter—this drink just helps us relax."
"Fine then," Lane said, leaning back in his chair and turning to the bartender. "One 'Green Fairy,' and another 'Heartburner' for me."
"Heartburner" was a well-known fruit-based spirit.
"Why don't you get me one of those 'Green Fairies,' too?"
"That was me who told you the truth just now, and I can also tell you everything about this kid!" the first to expose Lumin, a thin middle-aged man called Pierre, said in a discontented tone. "Outsiders, I can see that you still have doubts about whether that story is true or not!"
"You'd say anything for a free drink of wine!" Lumin shot back.
Before Lane could make a decision, Lilya asked sharply:
"Is that alright?"
"No problem, as long as your wallet can handle the cost of all these drinks," Lumin replied casually.
"Then another 'Green Fairy,' please," Lane said with a nod.
Pierre immediately lit up with a grin:
"Generous travelers, this kid is the biggest prankster in the village—you should keep your distance."
"Five years ago, his sister Aurelle brought him back to the village—and he's never left since. Think about it—he was only thirteen back then. How could he have possibly worked as a corpse keeper at a hospital? Our nearest hospital is in Daries down the mountain—an entire afternoon's walk away."
"Brought back to the village?" Lilya asked sharply.
She tilted her head slightly, producing a faint tinkling sound.
Pierre nodded:
"He took his sister Aurelle's surname, Li—and even his name, Lumin, was given by her."
"I've forgotten what his original name was," Lumin said with a grin, taking a sip of his absinthe.
He didn't seem embarrassed or ashamed at all about his past being exposed like that.
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