Volume One: Nightmare

Chapter 1: The Outsider

"I am a failure, barely paying attention to whether the sun is shining or not, because I have no time.

"My parents can't support me, my education isn't high, and I'm alone in the city searching for a future.

"I've applied for many jobs, but none have hired me. Maybe it's because no one likes someone who isn't good at talking, doesn't enjoy socializing, and hasn't shown enough ability.

"I went three whole days eating only two pieces of bread. Hunger kept me awake at night. Fortunately, I paid a month's rent in advance, so I could keep living in that dark basement, without having to face the unusually cold winter wind outside.

"Finally, I found a job—night watch at a hospital, guarding the morgue.

"The hospital at night was even colder than I imagined. The corridor wall lamps weren't lit, everywhere was dim, and I could only rely on the faint light leaking from the rooms to see my feet.

"The smell there was awful. From time to time, the dead were brought in stuffed in body bags, and we would help move them into the morgue.

"It wasn't a good job, but at least it let me afford bread, and I could use the free time at night to study. After all, no one wanted to come to the morgue unless a body needed to be delivered or taken away for cremation. Of course, I didn't have enough money to buy books yet, and I couldn't see any hope of saving up.

"I have to thank my predecessor. If he hadn't suddenly quit, I probably wouldn't have even gotten this job.

"I dream of rotating to the day shift. Now, I always sleep when the sun comes up and get up when night falls, which has made my body a bit weak, and my head occasionally throbs.

"One day, the porters brought in a new corpse.

"I heard from others that it was my predecessor who had suddenly resigned.

"I was a bit curious about him. After everyone left, I pulled out the drawer and quietly opened the body bag.

"He was an old man, his face bluish-white, covered in wrinkles, looking quite frightening under the very dim light.

"He didn't have much hair, most of it was white, and all his clothes had been removed—not even a scrap of fabric was left for him.

"For the dead without family, the porters would never miss a chance to make a little extra money.

"I saw a strange mark on his chest, bluish-black. I can't describe exactly what it looked like—the light was just too dim.

"I reached out and touched the mark. Nothing special happened.

"Looking at this former colleague, I wondered, if I kept going like this, would I end up like him when I got old...

"I told him that tomorrow I would accompany him to the crematorium, personally take his ashes to the nearest free cemetery, so those responsible wouldn't just toss him in a river or some wasteland out of convenience.

"This would cost me a morning's sleep, but it's fine—Sunday is coming soon, and I can make it up.

"After saying that, I fixed the body bag and pushed it back into the drawer.

"The light in the room seemed even dimmer...

"After that day, every time I slept, I would dream of a thick fog.

"I had a premonition that something would happen soon, a feeling that sooner or later, something I couldn't even call human would come for me. But no one wanted to believe me. They thought that working in such an environment had made me mentally unstable and that I needed to see a doctor..."

A male customer sitting at the bar looked at the storyteller, who had suddenly stopped:

"And then?"

This male customer was in his thirties, wearing a brown coarse wool jacket and light yellow trousers. His hair was pressed flat, and there was a simple dark round hat by his hand.

He looked very ordinary, just like most people in the tavern—black hair, light blue eyes, neither handsome nor ugly, lacking any distinctive features.

In his eyes, the storyteller was a young man of about eighteen or nineteen, tall and slender, also with short black hair and light blue eyes, but with striking features that made him stand out.

The young man looked at the empty wine glass in front of him, sighed, and said, "And then?

"And then I quit and went back to the countryside, came here to brag with you."

As he spoke, a smile appeared on his face, with a hint of mischief.

The male customer was taken aback:

"You were making all that up?"

"Haha." Laughter erupted around the bar.

As the laughter died down, a thin middle-aged man looked at the slightly embarrassed customer and said, "Outsider, you actually believed Logan Smith's story? He tells a different one every day. Yesterday, he was a poor guy whose fiancée broke off the engagement because of his poverty, and today he's a corpse watcher!"

"Yeah, talking about thirty years on the east side of the Serrenzo River, thirty years on the right side of the Serrenzo River, all nonsense!" another tavern regular chimed in.