Episode 01
The Outsider
“I am a failure who doesn’t even have the luxury to mind the brilliant sunshine. Because of parents who couldn’t support me, I sought a future alone in the city with unimpressive academic credentials. I sent out countless applications, but never once was I hired. Then again, who would like someone who can’t speak well, can’t handle social life, and doesn’t show sufficient ability? I often survived three whole days on just two loaves of bread. I couldn’t even sleep at night due to hunger. It was fortunate that, having paid a month’s rent in advance, I could continue to stay in a pitch-dark basement without having to shiver in the cold winter wind outside. After much hardship, I finally got a job as a night guard at a hospital, keeping vigil in the mortuary. The hospital nights were far colder than I had imagined. The wall lights in the corridor were all off, and everywhere was shrouded in darkness. Only a little light seeping from a nearby room illuminated my feet. And the smell was so foul. It was also our duty to move the body bags that arrived frequently into the mortuary. It wasn’t a good job. But at least I could buy bread, and I could study during the idle hours. After all, hardly anyone came to the mortuary except those bringing or taking away bodies for cremation. Of course, I had no money to buy books. And at the moment, I don’t even see the hope of saving any money. I was merely grateful to my colleague. If he hadn’t suddenly changed jobs, I wouldn’t have gotten this position either. I only wished I could switch to a day shift. The lifestyle of having to sleep during the day when the sun was out and be awake at night made me feel my body weakening. My head also ached sometimes, as if being pricked. One day, a new body arrived. Hearing what others said, that body was none other than my former colleague who had abruptly changed jobs. Feeling curious about him, after everyone left, I opened the body storage compartment and secretly untied the body bag. He was an old man. His bluish, pale face was covered in wrinkles, so much so that even in the surrounding darkness, I nearly jumped in fright. His sparse hair was mostly white, and his clothes had all been stripped off. He didn’t have a single thread left on him. The porters never miss a chance to get something from the deceased who have no family. But there was a strange mark on the old man’s chest. It was blackish-blue, and I couldn’t quite make out its exact shape. As I said, it was very dark there. I reached out and touched the mark. There was nothing particularly special about it. Looking at my former colleague, I thought: if I continue living like this, won’t I end up like him when I’m old? I told him that tomorrow I would go to the crematorium with him, that I would personally collect his ashes and inter them in the nearest free public cemetery. I said I would make sure the cremation staff, who found such tasks bothersome, wouldn’t just scatter the hastily collected ashes into some river or wasteland. It would mean missing the sleep I should get in the morning, but that was okay, I could make up for it over the coming weekend. After speaking, I neatly rearranged the body bag and closed the body storage compartment properly. The light in the room seemed to have grown dimmer than before. Ever since that day, every time I sleep, I see dense fog in my dreams. I have a feeling something is about to happen. A premonition that, before long, something that can barely be called human will come looking for me. But no one will believe me. They’d think I’ve gone mad from working in such an environment for so long, that I should see a doctor…….”
A male customer sitting at the bar table suddenly stopped speaking and looked at the narrator.
“So?”
This male customer, in his thirties, wore a brown tweed jacket and light yellow long trousers. Near his hand, which was pressed firmly on the table, lay a dark, shabby bowler hat. Like most patrons in this tavern, he had black hair and pale blue eyes. Neither handsome nor ugly, he had no particularly distinguishing features.
The narrator he was looking at, meanwhile, was a youth of about eighteen or nineteen. With an upright posture and long limbs, he had short black hair and light blue eyes, and his facial features were striking enough to make onlookers’ eyes widen.
The young man sighed, looking at the empty glass before him.
“So I resigned and returned to my hometown, and now I’m here spinning tall tales for you.”
A smile appeared on his face as he continued. It was a slightly cunning smile.
The male customer was perplexed.
“You mean everything you just said was a lie?”
“Haha.”
Laughter erupted around the bar table.
As the laughter subsided, a gaunt middle-aged man looked at the somewhat embarrassed customer and said:
“Outsider, of all people, you believed Lumian’s story. That kid’s story changes every day! Yesterday he pretended to be an unfortunate man whose fiancée left him because of poverty, and today he’s playing the mortuary attendant!”
“Yeah, one day he says he lived east of the Cerenzo River for thirty years, the next he claims he lived on the right side for thirty years. Lies pour from his mouth whenever he opens it!”
Another tavern regular chimed in. They were all farmers living in this large village called Cordu, dressed in short jackets of black, gray, or dark brown.
Lumian, the black-haired youth, placed both hands on the bar table and slowly stood up, beaming.
“You all know it. This isn’t a story I made up; it was all written by my sister. She loves writing stories the most. Why else would she become a professional writer for The Novel Weekly?”
After speaking, he turned and spread his hands toward the outsider customer, smiling brightly.
“Seems this latest work was well-written. Sorry for the misunderstanding.”
The ordinary-looking man in the dark brown tweed jacket, instead of getting angry, stood up as well and responded with a smile.
“It was a very interesting story. Your name?”
“Isn’t it customary to introduce yourself before asking someone else’s name?”
Lumian laughed.
The outsider customer nodded.
“I’m Rain Cos. These two are my colleagues, Valentine and Ria.”
He indicated the man and woman sitting at the adjacent table.
The man, who looked about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, had yellow hair, as if powdered slightly. His small eyes were a blue slightly deeper than lake water. He wore a white waistcoat, a dark navy wool coat, and black long trousers—an outfit that required considerable effort before going out. With a rather indifferent expression, he didn’t even glance at the nearby farmers and herdsmen.
The woman, younger than the two men, had light gray long hair intricately pinned up, topped with a white veil instead of a hat.
Her eyes, the same color as her hair directed at Lumian, held an unadulterated mirth. She seemed amused by what had just transpired. The tavern’s gaslight illuminated Ria’s high nose and elegantly curved lips. She was beautiful enough to be considered a beauty even in a rural village like Cordu.
Ria wore a form-fitting white cashmere dress without a wrinkle, a milky-white short coat, and Marcel boots. Two silver bells hung from her veil and boots. Not a few men had their attention captured by her the moment she entered the tavern due to the jingling sound. To them, Ria’s attire represented the latest fashionable style one might see only in a provincial capital like Vigor or the capital, Trier.
Lumian nodded toward the three outsiders.
“I am Lumian Lee. You can just call me Lumian.”
“Lee?”
Ria uttered the question.
“What, is there a problem with my surname?”
Lumian asked curiously.
Rain Cos explained on Ria’s behalf.
“That’s a surname that frightens people. I almost failed to control my voice just now.”
Seeing the puzzled expressions of the surrounding farmers and herdsmen, he explained more kindly:
“Anyone who has had contact with sailors and sea merchants knows a rumor circulating across the five seas: ‘You’d rather meet a pirate general or king than meet a man named Frank Lee.’ That surname is Lee.”
“Is he that terrifying?”
When Lumian asked, Rain shook his head.
“I don’t really know either. But such rumors don’t spread for no reason.”
He changed the topic at this point.
“Thank you for the story. As a reward, let me buy you a drink. What would you like?”
“Green Fairy.”
Lumian declined the offer and sat back down.
Rain Cos furrowed his brow slightly.
“Green Fairy… Absinthe? I should warn you. Absinthe is harmful to the human body. That kind of liquor can cause mental confusion and induce hallucinations.”
“I didn’t expect the trends from Trier to have already spread here.”
Ria beside him murmured with a hint of laughter.
Lumian let out a small sigh.
“It seems they also enjoy drinking Green Fairy in Trier… For me, life itself is already bitter enough. A little harm doesn’t matter. Only by drinking such liquor can I find some mental peace.”
“Alright.”
Rain, who had also sat back down, ordered from the bartender.
“One Green Fairy. And I’ll have another ‘Spicy Flavor’.”
‘Spicy Flavor’ was a famous fruit brandy.
“Shouldn’t you treat me to a Green Fairy too? I was the one who just told you the truth! Not only that, I can tell you his real situation exactly as it is!”
The gaunt middle-aged man who had first exposed Lumian’s daily fabrications voiced his complaint.
“Hey, outsider. It seems to me you’re still doubting the veracity of that story!”
“Pierre, you’ll say anything for a free drink!”
Lumian raised his voice.
He then added without waiting for Renee to decide:
“I might as well tell it myself. Would that earn me another Green Fairy?”
“Even if you tell it, how would they know whether to believe it or not?”
The middle-aged man called Pierre laughed triumphantly.
“Your sister’s favorite story to tell the kids is ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf,’ isn’t it? Someone who always lies loses their credibility.”
“Fine.”
Lumian shrugged and looked at the bartender sliding the light green liquor toward him.
Rain watched him and asked:
“Is that okay?”
“Doesn’t matter. As long as you, sir, have enough money to cover all these drinks.”
Lumian seemed utterly unconcerned.
“Another Green Fairy.”
Rain nodded.
Pierre’s face instantly brightened.
“Very generous, outsider. That kid is the worst troublemaker in the village. Best to keep your distance. Five years ago, dragged to this village by his sister Aurore, he never left again. Think about it—he was only thirteen back then. So how could he have worked as a night guard at a hospital? The nearest hospital is in Dalar down the mountain, and it takes a good half-day to get there.”
“Dragged to the village?”
Ria keenly probed the detailed point.
When she slightly turned her head, the bells on her veil jingled.
Pierre nodded.
“Aurore settled here six years ago. A year later, she went out and brought this kid back, saying she decided to take in a vagrant she met on the road who was about to starve to death. After that, the kid took her surname, Lee. The name Lumian was also given by Aurore.”
“I’ve forgotten my original name anyway.”
Lumian sipped his absinthe and grinned.
It seemed he felt no inferiority or shame whatsoever about his exposed past.
