Raul POV.
I’m staring at myself in the mirror.
All I see is a man carrying deep sorrows, a young face cramd with centuries-old regrets.
Even though I took Marcus and Noah’s souls through a deal, I feel rotten.
In short, I feel like shit...
But I can’t quit this job because it was the only entertainnt in my life.
There was a ti when I took souls to strengthen myself, but I’ve long passed that phase.
Right now, I’m staying at an inn in the Dragnar Empire.
The Traveler’s Hearth is a warm, spacious inn squeezed into a crowded corner of the capital’s old district.
The street outside never sleeps.
Lanterns sway in the night breeze, their soft light spilling onto rain-soaked cobblestones.
The air carries the scent of fresh bread from the neighboring bakery, roasted chestnuts from a street cart, and the laughter of distant night wanderers.
The world doesn’t care how much pain you carry; it’s just like a man slaps money in your face, saying, "Take it, bitch."
It was a pretty nice inn on a bustling street.
I don’t want to go to Artemis.
Because I don’t dare to face her, and she probably has a good idea of what I’ve done.
I know Artemis doesn’t give a damn about mortals’ lives.
To her, mortals are fragile like flowers, fleeting, vanishing before dew dries.
In a god’s eyes, my feelings are absurd.
People might say "move on" or "don’t dwell on it," but trauma can sotis drive us forward, yet no matter how much you think you’ve escaped, its effects linger in your subconscious.
My red eyes watched from the mirror, as if reminding of my sins.
But mirrors are honest; they’re a reflection of what you are.
Your silhouette in the mirror doesn’t cry when you smile.
I tried so many tis to gouge out those eyes.
I drowned myself in alcohol.
Today was my birthday, and my phone kept vibrating.
I’m sure it was Victoria, Bella, and others.
But when I looked at myself, I felt like shit.
It’s currently the year 1453 AA, June 13...
AA ans After Arthur.
Arthur Pendragon, the last hero...
He couldn’t kill the Demon God but managed to seal it.
The mythology in this universe is written to fit here, quite complex.
Lara, the hero, I sotis wondered what that poor girl did.
But things here were different.
I sighed and poured myself a glass.
Downstairs, song-like voices rose from the inn, as if alive.
It was the middle of the night; I’d silenced my phone because I didn’t want to see anyone.
Downstairs, everyone was singing in Dragnar’s language.
I’d been at this inn for a few days, deciding to stay to clear my head a bit.
I drank sothing that could even get drunk.
Divine nectar infused with aether—I sotis stocked it, and since I could control ti, aging it was quick.
I went downstairs; everyone—the innkeeper and all the adventurers around was clinking glasses.
My sudden appearance caused a surprise; I had a hunched posture as I descended the stairs.
My hunched posture was a reflection of the sins weighing on , the lives I’d taken.
mbers of all races were sitting together here.
Most were dressed like adventurers straight out of fantasy.
The innkeeper—a woman with broad shoulders, flour-dusted hands, and a smile that had seen many stories—stood behind the bar, wiping glasses with a cloth slling of lemon and smoke.
A silence fell: "Co on, keep going, or do you prefer I sing?"
Everyone looked at each other. The innkeeper approached: "Sir, you’re drunk."
I gently pushed her aside and whispered in her ear: "Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll handle everything."
"DRINKS ON !!!" I shouted.
Everyone raised their glasses: "HURRAH!"
Yes, I was drunk, but what did it matter? Everyone here was trying to get drunk and sleep well.
A few musical instrunts appeared in the air.
I looked at the singer standing on the table and climbed up too.
I signaled for him to get down with my hand and cleared my throat with a cough.
"EVERYONE, LET’S CLEAR THE RUST FROM YOUR EARS. SINCE WE’RE IN AN INN, LET’S SING A SONG STRAIGHT FROM LEGENDS!" I shouted.
A dragon approached and brought a glass; everyone was waiting.
"Co on, let’s drink like today is our last day alive," I continued and took a sip from the glass.
Flute sounds, guitar sounds, and mixed musical instrunts filled the entire inn.
All these instrunts were made from special materials.
Everyone froze; more people entered the inn.
After all, playing music wasn’t just a hobby; it was where a person reflected their best self, and people must have felt that.
I slowly joined the voice; it was an elf song called Adira:
"Lira ventia
Mira solita
Vera vadis madira
Lesta forina
Sari velitia
Tori alis asira"
I jumped off the table and joined the dancing people, putting my hand on the shoulder of the dragon who handed the glass.
The dragon put his arm around my shoulder the sa way, and we moved back and forth together.
Elves, humans, dragons, dwarves, and demons...
We spun around; the inn was filled with joy.
No one stopped; everyone with glasses in hand united and danced, even those not dancing tapped their feet to the rhythm.
It was very crowded; everyone joined the song.
The inn was overflowing; people entered and joined us, standing with the excuse of a drink.
Enchanted gazes—I could see the curiosity in their eyes.
It was helping clear my head.
The creaking of the inn’s wooden floors, the light from the chandelier gave a fairy-tale vibe.
So had taken out their phones and were recording ; tomorrow, Raul would trend, it seed.
I raised my voice:
"Lemari eisi olana matira
Lorivia noche irina velita
Lamaria vose ilia nio sora tia via adira
Lemari eisi olana matira
Lorivia noche irina velita
Lamaria vose ilia nio sora tia via adira
Adira....."
(aning:
Light carrying the wind’s lody, Lone star, shining in the sky, Hidden doors open in green valleys.
Flowers awaken with morning’s first breath, A dream touches soft as silk, Birds flap wings toward the horizon.
Under moonlight, the sea whispers, singing an eternal song.
Night’s curtain falls, stars dance.
Silver rivers flow, my soul is devoted to your path.
Devoted...)
(If you’re looking for sothing similar, check out the song "Sis Puella Magical".)
The word Adira echoed in the inn; the elves especially listened intently.
Because it was their language, and they knew this song very well.
"BROTHER!!!" so elves said, hugging , and they were quite strong.
I chuckled and pulled back a bit, clinking glasses with the elf, because even though they were elves, they’d never heard anyone sing it so well, and they grew up with such songs.
I took a sip from my glass—definitely lower quality than what I drank alone, but who cares!
"ONE MORE! ONE MORE!" The inn was overflowing; all the people were cheering.
I put my hand behind my neck: "That’s enough for today; let the musician continue."
Everyone sighed, but I stayed with them.
Songs continued, glasses clinked.
Everyone forgot their pains and got along well; many tried to talk a lot.
I didn’t turn anyone away.
Today I needed to drink, but not alone.
A good song brings people closer; musicians are sympathetic people.
So asked for my autograph; I greeted them with a smile.
I was famous across all empires.
Being under Iris von Dragnar’s protection was no joke; Iris was a figure close to the gods.
Sohow, my mood lifted at least a little.
A lot happened in the inn; a few elves even invited to their rooms to show elf love, but I declined...
Everyone was slowly getting sleepy; I slipped back to my room without notice, in a better way.
I opened my room’s door, slowly threw myself onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling.
’Ah, another year has passed for ; how fast ti flies.’ I was hiccuping.
It was quite a funny sight.
’I wish Mrs. Miller were here; I even miss her scolding for drinking. I hope you’re in paradise, Mrs. Miller.’
With the wish for a peaceful night, I closed my eyes.
(This Chapter intensifies Raul’s traumas; he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. I’m trying to touch on philosophical topics.
His going down to the inn and singing while unhappy might seem absurd, but those who read literary works will notice it as a spark of humanity inside Raul.
I have a lot of philosophical thoughts, and I’m trying to reflect them on you. I placed pieces of myself in the character.
For example, I’ve been reading books since I was 6, and they were heavy books, thanks to my father...
You’re likely going to see such thes:
Like Dostoyevsky’s Notes from Underground.Like Kafka’s tamorphosis.Like Sartre’s Nausea.
Thank you for accompanying on this journey.
I’m waiting for your comnts and reviews, and I’d be happy if you add the book to the library.
Thanks for everything; let’s raise a glass.
To our health.)
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