"Sir? Sir?"
Darius blinked, realizing he'd been staring. His cheeks burned, and he quickly looked away.
"Eh—hello?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.
She stood before him, her raven-black hair cascading like a dark waterfall, framing a face that seemed carved from flawless porcelain. Her emerald-green eyes were piercing, her sharp features unforgettable.
"An angel... No, too elegant," he thought, mesmerized. His musings were interrupted as her brows furrowed slightly, the frown only deepening her mystique.
"What would you like to have?" she asked, her voice soft yet commanding, her lips curving into the faintest smile.
"Uhm... Wine? Maybe?" he replied hesitantly.
Her brows arched. "You're not sure?" Her lips curved into a slightly amused smile now.
Darius saw no point in lying, so he nodded, feeling increasingly foolish.
"A new patron, I see," she said, her tone light. "Welcome to The Winking Stag."
"Thank you," Darius said, attempting his best—and hopefully charming—smile.
She slid a card across the table toward him. "Take a look."
He muttered another thanks and scanned the menu. One entry caught his eye: Stag's Brew Ale. It was reasonably priced—just two silver pieces.
"I'll try the Stag's Brew Ale. Your specialty, I assume?"
Her brow rose, a flicker of curiosity flashing in her eyes. "Making assumptions already?"
Darius chuckled awkwardly, scratching his neck. "Uh, lucky guess."
She said nothing but smiled faintly and accepted his two silver pieces. As she walked away, her composure seemed more ethereal, like she was floating just out of reach of the normal world.
While waiting for his drink, the door to the inn opened, and a man and woman entered, scanning the room for a seat. Darius watched them approach his table and frowned slightly.
"On a date, perhaps," he mused internally, his expression softening. "A simple, peaceful life... That's what I'd like."
The man stopped by Darius's table. "Good sir, may we sit here?"
Darius smiled warmly. "With such a beautiful lady at your side, how could I refuse? Please."
The woman blushed, her cheeks tinged pink. The man, however, frowned slightly, perhaps catching a different interpretation of Darius's words.
Realizing his blunder, Darius quickly added, "I mean, you two make a lovely couple. You deserve a table to yourselves. Who am I to say no?"
The woman's blush deepened as she smiled. "Thank you for your kindness."
The man nodded stiffly. "Haven't seen you around. You must be new to the city."
"That I am," Darius admitted, curious. "But... 'city people'? What do you mean?"
The man glanced at him briefly, pity flashing in his eyes. "I pray you'll adjust to life here."
Without elaborating further, he guided the woman to their table. Darius, slightly puzzled, shrugged. "Thanks, I guess," he muttered.
Turning back to find another seat, Darius's gaze fell on a solitary man seated in the far corner. His presence was oppressive, and the air around him seemed colder, biting.
Taking a tentative step toward him, Darius shivered involuntarily. His breath fogged before him. "What...?" The chill vanished as suddenly as it came, leaving him more curious than cautious.
He approached the man, who sat hunched over, silent and brooding.
"Hello," Darius said cautiously.
No reply.
"Good afternoon, sir. I hope I'm not intruding—" Darius didn't wait for an invitation and slid into the empty chair opposite him.
Finally, the man looked up, his eyes hollow and distant. "Do you want to die?"
Darius blinked. "Eh?!" His jaw slackened. "That's your opening line?!"
The man repeated, his voice colder now. "Do you want to die?"
"Uh, no? Why would you even ask that?" Darius replied, now equal parts intrigued and unsettled.
The man exhaled deeply, his gaze dropping again. "Then leave. People who stay around me… they always die."
The faint sadness in his tone wasn't lost on Darius, who tilted his head.
"Why are you sad?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.
The man sighed again, finally meeting Darius's gaze. "Everyone I befriend… dies. It's always my fault. Every single time." He clenched his fists. "You'll die, too, if you stay."
Darius frowned but caught the tremor of despair in the man's voice.
"Self-blame, huh?" he muttered. Then, to the man's utter shock, Darius reached out and patted his shoulder.
The man flinched as though Darius had slapped him. "What are you doing?"
"Relating," Darius said with a grin. "I've been where you are, you know. Alone, wallowing in despair, convinced the world was better off without me."
The man blinked, confusion replacing his cold demeanor.
Darius leaned back, folding his arms. "For a year, I shut myself away. I drank too much, hated everything, and thought I was the saddest person alive." His grin turned rueful. "It was a miserable, pleasurable decline."
The man stared silently as Darius continued.
"But you know what I realized? That kind of loneliness doesn't fix anything. It just makes you weaker. And no one changes the world by sitting alone, feeling sorry for themselves."
Darius leaned forward again, meeting the man's eyes. "You've suffered, sure. But if you want to stop seeing people die, then stop wallowing. Stand up. Do something about it."
Extending a hand, Darius grinned. "I'm Darius. And you are?"
The man stared at him, his shoulders trembling slightly. For a moment, Darius thought he'd offended him. But then he realized the man was chuckling—softly, quietly.
"Willen," he said finally. "I pray you won't freeze to death like the others."
Darius smirked, his grin growing smug. "You've no idea. I'm basically a human-shaped dragon."
Bam!
The door is swung open, ushering a new wave of cold air, the silhouette of a man in black blocked the entrance and it slowly scanned the tables, before fixing its gaze on Darius's direction.