Chapter 1654: Magic Sword

I was a failure, barely noticing if the sun was shining or not, because I simply had no time. My parents couldn't support me, my education was limited, and I was all alone in the city, searching for a future. I applied for many jobs but couldn't get hired. Perhaps no one wanted to employ someone who wasn't good at speaking, didn't like to socialize, or lacked obvious capabilities.

For three whole days, I only ate two pieces of bread. Hunger kept me awake at night. Luckily, I had paid a month's rent in advance, so I could stay in that dark basement, spared from the exceptionally cold winter winds outside.

Finally, I found a job: working nights at a hospital, guarding the morgue. The hospital nights were colder than I'd imagined. The wall lamps in the corridors weren't lit, and it was dim everywhere. Only the faint light filtering out from the rooms helped me see where I was going.

The smell was terrible. From time to time, a deceased person would be brought in, zipped into a body bag, and we'd help move them into the morgue. It wasn't a great job, but it at least allowed me to buy bread, and I could use the quiet night hours to study. After all, few people wanted to visit the morgue unless a body needed to be brought in or taken out for cremation. Of course, I didn't have enough money for books yet, and there was no hope of saving up any time soon.

I had to thank my former colleague. If he hadn't suddenly left, I might not have even gotten this job. I dreamed of eventually getting a day shift. Now, I always slept when the sun came up and woke when night fell, which made my body feel a bit weak, and my head would occasionally throb.

One day, the movers brought in a new body. I heard it was my former colleague, the one who had suddenly resigned. I was a bit curious about him. After everyone had left, I pulled out the drawer and quietly unzipped the body bag. He was an old man, his face pale and bluish, covered in wrinkles. He looked quite frightening in the very dim light. He had little hair, most of it white, and all his clothes had been removed; not a stitch was left on him.

I saw a strange, bluish-black mark on his chest. I couldn't describe its exact shape; the light was just too dim. I reached out and touched the mark. There was nothing special about it. Looking at my former colleague, I wondered if I continued like this, would I end up just like him when I grew old...

I told him that tomorrow I would accompany him to the crematorium and personally take his ashes to the nearest free cemetery. That way, those in charge wouldn't find it too troublesome and just discard them in a river or some wasteland. This would cost me a morning's sleep, but it was fine; Sunday was coming, so I could make up for it. After saying that, I re-zipped the body bag and put it back into the drawer. The light in the room seemed to grow even dimmer...

After that day, every time I slept, I dreamed of a dense fog. I had a premonition that something would happen soon, that sooner or later, something I wasn't sure could even be called human would come for me. But no one believed me. They thought my mind had become unstable from that environment and that job, and I needed to see a doctor...

A male guest sitting at the bar looked at the narrator, who had suddenly stopped.

"And then?"

The male guest was in his thirties, wearing a brown tweed jacket and light yellow trousers. His hair was neatly pressed down, and he had a simple, dark bowler hat beside him. He looked ordinary, like most people in the tavern: black hair, light blue eyes, neither handsome nor ugly, lacking any striking features. In his eyes, the narrator was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, tall and slender, with the same short black hair and light blue eyes, yet his features were sharp and striking, enough to catch one's attention.

The young man gazed at his empty glass and sighed.

"And then?" he asked. "Then I quit my job, came back to the countryside, and now I'm here bragging to you." As he spoke, a playful smile appeared on his face.

The male guest froze for a moment. "You mean everything you just said was bragging?"

"Haha." Laughter erupted around the bar.

As the laughter subsided slightly, a thin middle-aged man looked at the somewhat embarrassed guest. "Outsider, you actually believed Lumian's story? He tells a different one every day! Yesterday, he was a poor wretch whose fiancée broke off their engagement, and today he's a morgue attendant!"

"Yeah, talking about thirty years east of the Sarenzo River, thirty years right of the Sarenzo River—just spouting nonsense!" another tavern regular chimed in. They were all farmers from the large village of Cordu, wearing short jackets that were black, gray, or brown.

The black-haired young man, called Lumian, slowly stood up, leaning on the bar with both hands, and said with a smile, "You know, this isn't a story I made up. It's all written by my sister. She loves writing stories, and she's even a columnist for something called the *Fiction Weekly*."

After speaking, he turned sideways, gestured to the foreign guest with an open hand, and smiled brightly. "Looks like she writes pretty well. Sorry to have misled you."

The ordinary-looking man in the brown tweed jacket didn't get angry. He stood up as well and replied with a smile, "A very interesting story. What should I call you?"

"Isn't it common courtesy to introduce yourself before asking someone else's name?" Lumian chuckled.

The guest from out of town nodded. "My name is Ryan Cos. These two are my companions, Valentine and Leah." He gestured to a man and a woman sitting nearby as he spoke.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with powdered blond hair and eyes a deeper shade of blue than lake water. He wore a white waistcoat, a fine blue woolen coat, and black trousers, clearly having dressed meticulously before going out. He had a rather aloof expression and didn't pay much attention to the surrounding farmers and herders.

The woman appeared younger than both men. Her light gray hair was styled into an intricate bun, covered by a white veil that served as a hat. Her eyes, the same color as her hair, held an unconcealed amusement as she looked at Lumian, seemingly finding the recent exchange merely entertaining. Under the glow of the tavern's gas wall lamps, Leah's delicate nose and beautifully curved lips were revealed. She was undeniably a beauty in a rural village like Cordu. She wore a white, unpleated cashmere dress with a beige short jacket and a pair of tall, Maseille boots. Her veil and boots each had two small silver bells attached, which jingled noticeably as she walked into the tavern, drawing many men's gazes. In their eyes, such fashionable attire was typically only seen in big cities like the provincial capital, Bigorre, or the imperial capital, Trier.

Lumian nodded to the three outsiders. "My name is Lumian Lee. You can just call me Lumian."

"Lee?" Leah blurted out.

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

Ryan Cos helped Leah explain. "That surname frightens people. I almost couldn't control my voice just now." Seeing the confused expressions of the surrounding farmers and herders, he elaborated, "Anyone who's spent time with sailors or sea merchants knows a saying that goes around the Five Seas: 'Rather encounter pirate generals or even kings than run into someone named Frank Lee.' That person's surname is also Lee."

"Is he very frightening?" Lumian asked.

Ryan shook his head. "I don't know for sure, but if there's such a legend, he must be quite something." He ended the topic and said to Lumian, "Thank you for your story. It's worth a drink. What would you like?"

"A glass of 'Green Fairy,'" Lumian said without hesitation, sitting back down.

Ryan Cos slightly frowned. "'Green Fairy'... Absinthe? I should warn you, absinthe can be harmful to the body. This drink can potentially lead to madness and cause hallucinations."

"I didn't realize the trends from Trier had already reached here," Leah added with a smile from beside them.

Lumian let out an "Oh." "So people in Trier also like to drink 'Green Fairy'... For us, life is already hard enough. There's no need to worry about a little extra harm. This drink helps our minds relax more."

"All right." Ryan sat back down and looked at the bartender. "A 'Green Fairy' and a 'Hot Heart' for me as well." 'Hot Heart' was a famous fruit brandy.

"Why don't you get me a 'Green Fairy' too? I was the one who told you the truth just now! I can tell you everything about this kid!" the thin middle-aged man who first exposed Lumian's daily storytelling shouted in discontent. "Outsider, I can see you still have doubts about the truth of that story!"

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

Before Ryan could decide, Lumian added, "Why can't I tell it myself? Then I could get another 'Green Fairy'?"

"Because they don't know whether to believe what you say," the middle-aged man named Pierre said with a triumphant smile. "Your sister's favorite story to tell children is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf.' People who always lie lose their credibility."

"Fine," Lumian shrugged, watching the bartender slide a glass of pale green liquid towards him.

Ryan looked at him and inquired, "Is that all right?"

"No problem, as long as your wallet can cover the cost of these drinks," Lumian said casually.

"Then another 'Green Fairy,'" Ryan nodded.

Pierre's face immediately lit up with a smile. "Generous outsider, this kid is the biggest prankster in the village. You really should keep your distance from him. Five years ago, his sister Aurore brought him back to the village, and he hasn't left since. Think about it: before that, he was only thirteen. How could he have been a morgue attendant at a hospital? The closest hospital to us is in Darel, down the mountain, a whole afternoon's walk away."

"Brought back to the village?" Leah asked keenly. She tilted her head slightly, causing her bells to jingle.

Pierre nodded. "And then he took Aurore's surname, 'Lee.' Even his name, 'Lumian,' was given to him by Aurore."

"I've even forgotten what my original name was," Lumian said with a grin, taking a sip of absinthe. He seemed to have no self-consciousness or shame about his past being revealed in this manner.