I ended up strolling further away from the city, following a path with several splits along the way. I disregarded Solitaire's suggestion to return to Wülgenville under any circumstances. It wasn't just about avoiding guards who might still be searching for me; it was about their way of life. I had no desire to stay among people so foolish as to abandon currency. This law was impractical and detrimental to many prospects, including mine. It was surprising that the town and the entire region could function under such a moronic rule. Solitaire had mentioned that currency was banned throughout the region but not the whole world, suggesting there might be places more suitable for me. Thus, all I needed to do was keep walking.
As dusk fell on the road and forest, typically my time to flourish, I found no drunkards or hustlers wandering the woods—only the voices of night birds, crickets, and some larger animals. Hopefully, none of them were as devious as the darewolf. It was only after some time that I realized how reckless I had been during our battle. I should have fled, but instead, I stood my ground against the beast. As much as I disliked Solitaire, I owed him thanks for lending me that power. I wish I could feel as free as I had at that moment, especially after my dagger pierced the beast's flesh...
I stopped near an open field full of flowers and weeds. It was time to build a shelter for the night, but I couldn't bring myself to do it just yet. My attention was captivated by the beautiful, luminescent colours of the flowers. They attracted night insects from all around, serving as beacons to share food and facilitate pollination. If not for these flowers and the wicked beast, I might not have realized I was in a different world. Everything felt familiar yet distant, but undeniably more appealing. Back home, I had been no one; here, I was... still just Dusk, but not a mere pickpocket at the very least.
I snapped back to reality as I noticed the sun slowly dipping below the horizon. Though shadows engulfed the surrounding vegetation, the field of glowing flowers remained unaffected. I had never camped in my world or read about it in books—I was illiterate, but that didn't matter. Survival couldn't be much harder than in a poor neighbourhood or finding a room with basic insulation in an abandoned house. Besides, tonight seemed calm, with little wind to disturb my plans for a comfortable sleeping spot.
I trampled some weeds and flowers in a lowland area of the field, cutting moss from trees and stones to fashion a makeshift pillow. It wasn't the best bed, but certainly better than a cold stone floor I was accustomed to. I lay down, feeling the softness of the weeds and moss beneath me. Closing one eye and leaving the other half-open, I fell asleep to the monotonous sound of crickets.
I didn't usually dream, but this night proved to be an exception. I ran through the woods, branches and stones striking my body and legs. In the distance, the howl of a darewolf drew closer with every moment. I wanted to turn and face my fear, but I couldn't—I kept running, fleeing like prey. The encounter with the beast had left a deeper impact than I initially thought. Finally, with its roar practically at my side, exhaustion overtook me, and I fell, accepting my fate. Just before its hooked teeth could pierce my flesh, I woke early in the morning.
Sunlight trailed along my body, my throat dry, and my limbs sluggish and somehow thinner. Pain pulsed in my hands, and as I raised them, I saw a swarm of butterflies—blue and green like the flowers—their proboscises piercing my flesh like tiny needles to suck my blood. The sight startled me to my feet, and I waved my hands to dislodge the pests. Thankfully, it worked; soon, none of the butterflies remained on my skin. But the damage was done, and now my hands—and even the surrounding flesh—itched like crazy. Looking around, I noticed the world seemed to sway, as if caught in ocean waves.
"What the fuck... is happening?"
I panted heavily, my body much weaker than the day before. As I walked among the flowers, my steps faltered as if I were drunk. In this state, I somehow made it back to the road, but my journey didn't last long. I counted twenty more steps before finally collapsing. Conscious but unable to move a muscle, I didn't understand what was happening to my body. I wanted to cry out for help, but no tears or words came. After a few more agonizing minutes, my eyes closed, and consciousness slipped away once more. Somehow, I had made another mistake, but I struggled to comprehend what had gone wrong this time.