"Have you started playing the role too? You're homeless, but as soon as you leave this alley, the second chapter of your life will begin."
"You mean you're kicking me out?" The boy started crying again; their reactions were harsh.
"Come on, go now."
"Get out."
Shiros obeyed the orders and left.
The next day, he was walking in one of Babylon's main streets, wearing ragged clothes, with a bag tied around his waist containing four hundred dirhams—three hundred of which his homeless friends had collected with great difficulty just to create a greater chance for their little friend in life, and one hundred he had obtained by deceiving people at the funeral of the fruit and vegetable seller who died a few days earlier.
"What should I do now...? I'm relatively rich. I think I'll go rent a room in an inn to live in, but until my money runs out, I must find a source of income."
"I don't know any craft or profession. If my father were here, he would have taught me something useful."
Remembering this, Shiros thought again about his father.
"Ah, my father was a warlock, as I heard, and that friend's cousin is a warlock too."
Author: The term "warlock" here refers to a sorcerer who learned sorcery illegally. These usually have no connection to the gods worshiped by the people of this civilization but resort to lower entities like demons, jinn, mard, and others.
Shiros continued thinking: A warlock who deals with demons that can make a person's life paradise... This is wonderful, but do I really have to become like that?
Here, a fleeting image of his mother's face appeared in his mind.
Can demons cure fatal diseases?
Or rather... Can the dead be brought back to life through warlockery?
He stopped thinking, then stopped walking, and said firmly: "From now on, I will be a warlock."
A few hours later, darkness fell.
At the same time, Shiros arrived at the inn where he had lived with his mother.
He opened the door slowly and entered. Upon entering, his skin felt the change in temperature, moving from the biting cold outside to the refreshing warmth inside the inn, for there was a fireplace burning with a fire that soothed the viewer's eye.
He turned to the innkeeper, who was sitting on a rocking chair in a corner of the reception room beside the fireplace: "Hello, uncle. It's been a long time."
The "uncle" was surprised to see him.