"Solice," Alondra says, her voice light but inviting, "since you're not familiar with our culture, why don't you come to the Alstidon Festival tonight? Plenty of nobles and common folk show up, and it's a great way for us to collect lifespan donations for the orphanage."
Still haunted by the odd conversation she had with the mysterious man earlier, I hesitate. But her smile is warm and earnest. "Uh, sure, why not," I say reluctantly.
-----
I don't know what time it is in this world, but my timer reads: 4B4J:288:07.
The town square is alive with celebration, the Alstidon Festival in full swing. Lanterns strung across rooftops bathe the streets in a warm glow, while the smells of roasted meats and sweet pastries fill the air. Laughter echoes from every direction as people drink, chat, and dance.
I notice a stark divide among the festivalgoers. The wealthier individuals flaunt their timers proudly, wearing low-cut tops or open-chested garments that make their abundant years impossible to miss. Their timers gleam in the warm festival light, a silent declaration of status.
In contrast, the poorer folk keep their timers hidden, their clothing deliberately layered or patched to obscure them. Their hunched postures and nervous glances suggest not just caution but shame, as if their dwindling years mark them as lesser.
It's fascinating—and unsettling. Here, even time itself is a measure of wealth and pride.
This scene stirs something in me—a pang of nostalgia. It reminds me of nights I spent with Sam, my old life. Clubs, events, concerts... It wasn't perfect, but it felt alive. Sam was my anchor back then.
I glance at Alondra, her expression serene as she sets up our booth. Could she become my anchor in this world? I push the thought aside, ashamed of the loneliness that drives it.
"Ha ho!" someone shouts, staggering toward us. A man, clearly drunk, lurches up to our booth. His face is flushed red from alcohol.
"I'd like to donate seven hours to the Kepanasan Church!" he slurs, his words barely coherent.
Alondra's brow furrows slightly, her voice gentle. "Seven hours... That's a lot of time. Are you sure?"
The man pulls back his shirt with a drunken flourish, exposing his chest timer. "I have seventeen years—of course I'm sure!"
Alondra bows slightly, holding out a small, purplish crystal. "Thank you for your generosity."
The man touches the crystal, and it glows a faint greenish-purple before fading. The crystal's internal timer increases, and the man stumbles off, muttering a cheerful farewell.
"Thank you for your donation," I call after him. I glance at Alondra, my voice dropping to a murmur. "Seven hours is generous, but it's not nearly enough for those kids."
Her expression remains unreadable as she returns the crystal to her satchel.
-----
Hours pass, and the festival grows livelier. Alondra and I exchange small talk, and I carefully keep my secrets to myself. How could I even begin to explain that I'm from another world? Instead, I feign amnesia, claiming I don't remember anything before waking up in the forest.
Over the course of the evening, we collect over a year and a half in lifespan donations. Alondra explains how lifespan crystals work, their ability to accept or deposit lifespans depending on the user's intent. She even shows me the two crystals she carries—one for collecting and the other for storage.
"I never keep all the donated time in one crystal," she explains. "That way, if someone tries to steal it, they can't take everything."
As the night wears on, I notice the diversity of the festival goers. Humans mingle with dwarves, elves, and demi-humans—catfolk, dogfolk, and even some reptilian creatures. It's fascinating and strange, yet it makes this world feel alive.
Toward the end of the night, the crowds thin, and Alondra and I find a moment to rest.
"Thank you, Solice," she says, her voice softer now. "For coming with me tonight and helping the children."
"It's nothing," I reply, brushing it off. "You healed my forehead, after all. I owe you at least this much. Besides..." I pause, searching for the right words. "I still need to understand the culture. And you're the best person for the job. So thank you, Alondra. For everything."
She smiles, and for a moment, the tension I've carried since arriving in this world eases.
BOOM!
The sound reverberates through the square, rattling the lanterns and silencing the crowd.
"What the hell was that?" I mutter, instinctively stepping closer to Alondra.
From the smoke and chaos emerges a group of six cloaked figures, their garments black with crimson trim. Their faces are obscured, but their presence commands attention.
"Ho ha," they chant in unison, their voices echoing eerily. Their introduction is different from what I've heard before in this world. It feels almost… Disrespectful.
The festival goers scatter, screams of terror filling the air. My heart races. Whoever these people are, they're not here to celebrate.