Damn it!
Cyril bags up the bed. Once again, he was fired from his workplace. Cyril paced back and forth in his cramped rental room. He felt uneasy. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his cell phone.
While opening the online reading application that many people liked lately, Cyril thought. If only he had been born into a rich family. Or at least in a family with a stable economy. He would have had a good education, not only a high school graduate. But Cyril knew that all the things in his dreams could not come true. His parents could not be exchanged. Even if they could, Cyril would not be here.
"I want to die?" asked Cyril under his breath.
Cyril was surprised by the sentence that came out of his mouth. What did he say? Did he want to die that bad? Dying made Cyril's problems end. But, it created problems for his parents.
So, Cyril should be grateful for his own life. He should be grateful to have both parents.
Don't think! Cyril forbade.
He stopped at a novel titled: Knight of the Red Moon. Before opening the latest chapter, he placed his cell phone on the bed.
Cyril picked up a nearby bag, taking out a paycheck envelope. Today Cyril praised himself. Because he was not a hypocrite. When his bloated boss threw the last pay envelope in his face, he didn't throw it back. Life needs money, man! Cyril wouldn't lie if all his needs depended on a paycheck. If he didn't get it, he'd be dead within a month from not eating.
He took out the money in the envelope. It counted and divided into several parts: Food, rent, electricity, and water, and a little for savings.
After finishing counting the money, Cyril went back to his cell phone. There was already a new chapter in his favorite novel. He flopped down on the bed, starting to concentrate on reading the novel.
The Knight of the Red Moon was a novel about a commoner who struggled to become a court knight. Cyril liked this story because the character had the same name as him. Cyril. A knight from the commoner caste. A young man who fought to become a knight. Even though he later became a rebel.
Cyril once commented on this novel, why does the main character suffer so much to become successful? I mean, couldn't anything good has happened to him? His comment was blocked, of course. Are there any writers who like it when their work is criticized? Cyril as a reader was not angry.
Cyril startled. He clutched his cell phone. His face started to turn red. And finally, he threw the phone on the pillow beside him.
"What a rubbish story!" Cyril cursed in annoyance.
The knight he supported was caught when he made it out of the palace. Isn't the knight the main character? This story was already in chapter 500 and it changed.
His heart still hurt because he had been fired. Now it is exacerbated by the story that was supposed to make Cyril calm. "DAMN IT! IF THIS IS THE CASE WHY DID YOU MAKE HIM THE HERO YESTERDAY!" Cyril shouted. He crazed.
He was short of breath with anger. Then he understood something. Nothing had changed despite his yelling.
"I'd better start writing my own stories," Cyril muttered.
Cyril took the cell phone back. He plugged in the charger and went back to sleep on his back. He could smell the stench of garbage near the bathroom. Cyril promised to take out the trash when he woke up later. He wouldn't forget again.
Cyril yawned and closed his eyes.
Cyril heard someone talking nearby.
Who is it?
His eyes were hard to open. His whole body ached. He tried to move his arms and legs. He couldn't.
"Since it didn't come down, I intend to call it down for a meal!"
Cyril could hear a woman's voice speaking. The woman was crying. Besides the woman's voice, Cyril also heard a man.
"Then you can explain why he's not breathing! You lowly servant!" a man scolded.
Servant? There couldn't be servants in Cyril's rented room. It was not a luxurious place.
Cyril told himself that he had to get up now no matter what. The door to his room was locked and he was alone inside. He had no lover or friend who could enter his small room. Cyril heard an unfamiliar moaning sound from his throat. Was it his voice? Was he having a sore throat?
Cyril remembered the fire victim who woke up after five years. The victim didn't recognize himself at all because he had been in a coma for so long. Did he have trouble sleeping until he fell into a coma?
His eyes opened wide. He shouted happily because he managed to open his eyes. But this wasn't the ceiling of his room.
"Oh my!"
Cyril turned his head towards the woman who shouted in surprise immediately. He didn't even recognize the woman who was standing while covering mouth. Besides being beautiful, the clothes also looked strange.
A maid?
"He's awake!" The man dressed in a medieval warrior uniform not far from the bed spoke. His eyes were creepy.
Cyril frowned at something pinned to the man's waist.
A real sword?
Did someone kidnap him and then use him as a stage decoration?
When Cyril looked again, there were other people also wearing the same clothes with simpler decorations. Cyril was getting confused.
"Is there a costume party at the hospital?" asked Cyril. The question came out of Cyril's mouth.
The people gathered around Cyril looked at each other. The man with the sword at his waist stepped forward and pointed at himself. "Do you know who I am?"
"You--Doctor?" guessed Cyril.
The woman beside Cyril who was shocked earlier now changed her expression to fear. "Sir, do you know me?" she asked.
Cyril looked up and down. Of course, he didn't recognize the woman he had seen now. The uniform the woman was wearing was gothic. A uniform that a nurse from the hospital would not wear.
"Nurse?"
The face of the woman to Cyril's right grew pale. The men who did not speak gathered in front of Cyril, at the end of his bed, and were whispering.
"Cyril, I know you don't like jokes. So don't do it now!" The man from earlier spoke again. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.
Cyril guessed that he had guessed wrong. The man in the costume was not a doctor. He sat down and was forced to look around now. There was no equipment like in the hospital where he was. Compared to that, this place looked old.
"I-this--where?" asked Cyril scared.
The person who gave Cyril the question did not answer.