The city ambience got quieter, as he entered the building. Finding himself at the entrance of a spacious hall, a sudden realization got to him. The bar had many tables and much more chairs. Up until now, he never thought about how frequented a renowned bar is and by the looks of it, Purgatory wasn't lacking guests.
Opposite to the entrance stood the bar counter. It acted as wall, separating the guest area from the private rooms. On the left of the counter, a brown swinging door connected the two.
– This place was owned by a full-blooded dwarf, so fortunately, I won't have any problems with my height.
Three doors towered behind the counter, each looking different from another. The first to left was another swinging door. It had a clean white color and a small, round window at head height. Ibsen was clever enough to guess it led to the kitchen, as a waitress rushing to the guest's table has a significantly lower chance to drop the dishes on a short path than a longer one.
Next to it was not a door, but rather a doorframe. Behind that were stairs, leading up to the living area. A nice carpet covered the path upwards, having elephants and flowers sewn into its dusty fabrics.
The last door was closer to the wall. Its wooden body was tightly shut, not letting any air get through. Ibsen feared to approach, as Kafka told him about the poisonous gasses down below. Surely, the basement hid the most valuable parts of the house, but Ibsen was scared and for a good reason. The mysteries of downstairs can wait for another day.
– Running this place must be challenging work, especially with a full house. Clearly, this was not meant for a lone-wolf guy, but thankfully, I'm used to relying on others. I should ask Kafka tomorrow about the ways of hiring.
As he turned towards the entrance, he realized the bar area had a platform above the door. From behind the counter, he could easily see up there as only a fence stood between him and the upstairs tables, so the drunkards won't fall down. Right next to the swinging door were the stairs leading up to the platform. The customer's toilet was also right next to the swinging door. Ibsen wanted to check it out, but remembering that rats ruled that area, the idea quickly left his head.
Feeling unsure about what to do next, he leaned onto the counter and yawned.
– Man, this gonna' be real laborious. What a weird word. Laborious. Huh. Anyways, I should probably go take a bath.
Clinging to the wooden handrails, he slowly made his way upstairs and got onto a small corridor. The walls were blue and another, now yellow rug covered the ground. To his right and in front of him were windows, looking down on a grassy area, hidden behind the neighboring houses. A lonely oak stood there, nothing more. Its branches and leaves were almost touching the glass. Still, they did not block the sun's dim light.
On his left were two average looking doors. He opened the one closest and found the bathroom. Darkness consumed the place, as it had no windows, just small holes on the ceiling for air to come.
– Surprisingly clean for such an old piece of history. A few spiders here and there, but I'll just relocate them outside and voila, got myself a nine-out-of-ten bathroom. Pretty good.
Grabbing the small bucket left by the bathtub, he went downstairs to the kitchen. The beige room was messy and small. Ibsen could hardly enter the door, because bowls and pots blocked his path. Slipping inside, he saw what appeared to be the aftermath of a tornado. The cupboards were wide open, spoons and forks covered the ground and the stove was turned over, facing the ceiling.
– This is… bad. Lots of works required. – uneasily reaching the sink, he began to fill the bucket with lukewarm water. – Water, water… fresh, warm water…
After replenishing some of his own fluids, he began walking upstairs with a full bucket. The stairs were long and steep. The way up was long and difficult, especially with the extra weight in his hands.
– Come on, don't give up… you're almost there…
Legs shaking, the handrail was his only help.
– You're strong, you can do it. You're almost…
– Pathetic! – Ibsen heard a voice, echoing inside his head. – Simply pathetic!
An image of Eunostus smugly smiling before shooting him flashed inside his head. Disrupted from reality, his body froze. Only the bucket's weight remained, pulling him back, down the stairs.
He fell down.
– Fucking… damn it, what was that!? Did I spill the water? Oh fuck, I did!
Using the counter's help to stand up, he felt a sharp pain in his left arm. Grunting from frustration and pain, he got back into the kitchen, filled the bucket once more and began his journey to the bathroom.
– Now, let's be smart about this! I'll go one step up, the bucket comes one stair up. One step, one stair. One step, one stair. One step – he remembered the manic laughing of Hilda, as he collapsed in pain. –, no, two steps, two stairs! Two steps, two stairs! Two steps…
Awkwardly stumbling, he fell once more.
– Shit! – quickly raising his arms to soften the fall, he hit his chest. – Gahh! The bucket, is it fine?
The bucket fell on his head, making his clothes soaking wet and his anger unimaginable. He rushed into the kitchen, filled the bucket up and ran up the stairs.
– Fuck yeah! That's how it's done! Now, let's take a bath… wait, where's the bucket? Shit…
Rushing down to the kitchen, he grabbed the bucket and tried to ran up the stairs, but stumbled on the first two steps and hit his head. In a fit of rage, he screamed and kicked the bucket, which in turn spilled some of its content.
– This stupid city and these idiotic people! All of them suck, all of them! Especially this fucking bucket! Couldn't they find a smaller one? For fucks sake, it's so heavy! So fucking heavy! – he picked it up – I just can't fucking believe that… it's not so heavy. What happened?
The bucket was half-full. In the water, he saw his reflection looking back at him, disappointed.
The sun was setting and only some of its light remained, when Ibsen finally filled the bath. Using a candle, he could see inside the room. It wasn't nearly bright enough to be of much use, but helped setting the mood for relaxation.
Gradually lowering himself into the water, relief filled his body.
– Finally something to smile about! Come to think of it, nothing really good happened today. I got shot, I got humiliated and… I died?
Looking down into his palm, it felt uncanny.
– Someone, or rather something, helped me out. I died, I'm sure of it. Even if just for a second, I wasn't alive.
He let the water engulf him. Only his knees and his eyes were out.
– The other side was empty. Not empty as the endless night, nor the inside of my eyelids. I had no body, no mind, no soul. One might say it's scary, while another that it's peaceful. In reality, it's neither. I looked into the abyss, but it wasn't there. It did not exist. I did not exist… and now I'm fated to live with this experience.
Without a sound, he dried himself off and left the bathroom. The bedroom door towered in front of him with all it's might. Made out of dark oak like the walls, it had an uninviting aura.
Ibsen raised the key, to which it carelessly unlocked. Stepping into the bedroom, he felt like falling into another dimension. The white walls were beautified with carvings of dark wood. Facing towards the playground was a windows, letting moonlight onto the huge bed's puffy pillows and cozy blankets.
– It looks brand new and untouched, but how is that possible?
Placing his clothes on the desk facing the door, he made sure the entrance was locked, before approaching the bed. Unsure about the strange sight, he jumped onto it, to which not a single dust particle entered the air.
– Did Kafka do something here? No, he did not enter this room. Then who did?
Lying in a comfortable position, only these questions hindered his sleep.
– Is this an apology from the gods for what I had to go through? Good grief, you guys are cheap. But I'm fine for today. So thanks. It's better than nothing.
Taking a look at the moon one last time, he closed his eyes and sank into a world of dreams.
– – –
– Welcome! You've reached the Lioness Nunnery! Please press one to… You have pressed an invalid number! Please try again to… You have pressed an invalid number! Please press one to… You have pressed an invalid number. Please wait, while we transition your call!
Silence followed. A beep was heard.
– The Sun be with you, followers of purity! How may I be of your assistance?
The voice belonged to a female, around 30 years of age. Deep and peaceful, her words were of a mother, smiling down upon her child. Still, the way she spoke had something more to it. Something powerful, something confident.
– Oh, it's just you. I was worried someone accidentally found out about the code. Well, why did you call?
The soft armchair creaked as she leaned back, all the while playing with the telephone cable.
– Come on, dear! I'm sure you did not call to daydream about the past, so just get to the point and stop wasting my time!
Yellow moonshine gleamed upon the two buns sitting on the top of her head, dividing her light brown hair into two long ponytails with the help of a golden ornament, closely resembling that of a princess' tiara.
– Still not given up on joining us? How lamentable… sure, I know exactly who to send. A simple beatdown and nothing more, got it. Now let's talk payment!
She reached out to a wooden box, sitting on the opposite end of the desk. With a gentle motion, she opened the small lock and reached inside, grabbing a fistful of jewelry.
– Of course, my love. And I'm sure the next time I'll ask you about it, you still won't have the money. But don't worry! I don't doubt your words. Even if you were to lie, you cannot escape the consequences. To be more specific, you cannot escape me. – she chuckled, before locking the box again and hanging up.
Only the city's ambience remained, endlessly looping the same noises over and over again. She was left alone, having found new excitement in the unforeseen visitor.
– Tonight the moon glows clearer than before. Is the Sun getting brighter, fearing I'll outshine him?