With a new job secured, Rick strolled the streets in a buoyant mood, even humming a tone-deaf Kester ditty that drew stares from passersby.
After buying Anna's favorite snacks from a street vendor, Rick bounded up the stairs and kicked open the door, ready to celebrate—only to find the flat empty.
"She's out..." The lack of someone to share his joy left Rick, accustomed to chaos, feeling oddly empty. He tossed the snacks on the table and flopped onto the sofa.
A note lay on the coffee table. Rick picked it up: Won't be back tonight—signed Anna.
"She dares stay out all night? Just wait till she returns!" Rick made a fierce face in the mirror, but the act felt hollow. He slumped back, staring at the brown ceiling. A bronze vintage fan spun lazily, while a tiny spider in the corner weaved its web, waiting for prey...
"Boring!" Rick tried finding distractions, but the cramped space offered nothing. His good mood faded.
He stormed up, grabbed his coat, and marched out. Ten minutes ago, he'd been sunny; now, gloom shadowed his mood. Everyone around him—especially those in groups—irritated him. This was Rick's first taste of loneliness.
In Kester City, though a penniless commoner, he'd had a ragtag gang: running barefoot through wet alleys, chasing garbage trucks, even skinny-dipping in freezing rivers. Cold as they were, joy had never left. After meeting Moya, happiness multiplied—until everyone started leaving...
"Moya's gone, Lav's gone, Rant's gone, Shust's gone... now even Anna..." Sudden confusion struck. Friends chased their lives, but where was his purpose? Was he fated to explore uncharted lands alone, dying nameless in some wasteland?
No—Rick, like anyone, craved vanity and praise. Now he was utterly alone.
Unknowingly, his aimless steps led him into a shadowy alley. Before realizing where he was, a swarm of streetwalkers burst from the side, startling him.
"Wh—how did I get here?!" Rick gaped as the painted women flocked around, flinging open their coats to reveal cleavage. His jumbled thoughts vanished, leaving only blank shock. Half-protesting, half-dazed, he was dragged into a nearby tavern by the garishly dressed women.
As soon as he stepped into the tavern, the stench of smoke and alcohol made Rick sneeze uncontrollably. His green reaction set the nearby prostitutes giggling, and they boldy tossed around remarks that turned his face scarlet.
"Cutie, shall we go upstairs directly or have a drink first?" A young, plain-faced but curvy girl nestled into his arms.
"I—" Before Rick could stammer a reply, the girl started bickering with the others for his business. Despite her size, she planted her hands on her hips with surprising menace, quickly driving the jealous women away.
"Actually... I was just wandering and got lost here..." Rick racked his brain to escape, but the girl's 凶相 (fierce look) sent a chill down his spine. "But since I'm here, maybe a drink first."
At the bar, the girl winked at the bartender. "Hey, handsome—bring a bottle of rum."
"A whole bottle?!" Rick nearly choked. Rum was a potent spirit; even alcoholics struggled with it, let alone a novice like him.
But Rick felt pent-up, craving release. He just yelped in surprise before steeling himself. The amber liquid gleamed in the insect lamp's hazy glow. As he raised the glass, pungent fumes stung his nose.
"Fuck it! I've faced Black Tiger Ants—can't fear a little booze!" He downed it in one gulp. Fire raced down his throat, every pore erupting with heat.
"Whoa, that's strong!" It took ages to recover, but a strange euphoria followed. The girl poured another, and Rick drained it without hesitation.
After three or four glasses, alcohol fogged his brain. He slurred nonsense to the girl, who was soon sidelined by a grizzled old man with tangled hair. The man joined their rambling, mooching Rick's drink.
"Whaddya... what's your name? Arthur? Hahaha... Your mom must've been high naming you after the 大帝 (Great Lord)!" Rick slurred, draping an arm over the old man's shoulder.
The old man didn't flinch, wiping goopy eyes with his sleeve. "You're right! This name's gotten me beatings aplenty."
"Yeah? Anyone messes with you, call me!" Rick tried pouring, but the bottle was empty. "Huh? Where's the booze?"
"We drank it, idiot!" The old man cackled.
"Bullshit, there was half a bottle left!" Rick fumbled for his wallet, slamming a fistful of Golden Beetles on the bar. "Another bottle!"
After ordering, he turned back to the old man. "You're ancient—why still chasing tail?"
"Just lonely. Living in a big house all alone is dreadfully boring."
The old man's words struck a chord with Rick. "Exactly! Too boring—no one to talk to."
Suddenly, the old man leaned in mysteriously. "Heh, but my good days are coming."
"What good days?"
"Recently, I found out I have a daughter! Hahaha... We're meeting tomorrow. After that, I won't lack for company."
"You? A daughter?" Rick eyed the old man skeptically, then clapped his shoulder. "Damn, old timer! Impressive—knocking someone up at your age!"
"You bet." The old man preened.
"Cheers!"
Clinking glasses, the odd pair guzzled more rum. The prostitute, bored, had fallen asleep, but the empty bottles by Rick's side promised a fat payday.
Kindred spirits drink deep. Rick and "Arthur" downed who-knows-how-many bottles, rambling through countless topics. Though mostly nonsense, both felt lighter afterward.
Leaving, the old man slung an arm over Rick's shoulder, slurring that once he met his daughter, he'd make Rick—who "looked decent"—his son-in-law.
"Son-in-law? Hah! In your next life, old man—I'm already spoken for." Rick staggered against the tavern doorframe. "Hey, where do you live?"
"Palais Saint-Rosel." The old man replied without hesitation.
"Wh—Palais Saint-Rosel? Hahahaha!"
Rick cackled, dancing with mirth, and accidentally backhanded a passerby. In an instant, a group in black cloaks surrounded him, glowering.
"Oh? Wanna fight?"
Normally non-confrontational, Rick was fueled by alcohol. Instead of apologizing, he rolled up his sleeves, jabbing the man's forehead. "Why wear all black at night? You lot look shady as hell! I'll beat the shit out of you!"
The lead cloaked man's eyes flashed, but he seemed pressed for time. "Break this drunk's arms and legs. No noise, no traces." He ordered, then hurried off with most of the group, leaving four thugs grinning menacingly.