A new day of official work began.
This time, Annan was awakened not by the cold and dampness of a thatched hut but by the bright sunlight streaming onto his bed.
He emerged from an old but warm quilt, the coolness of the morning helping to dispel his drowsiness.
The young man on the bed beside him, Martin, had been asleep since returning late the previous night. The sunbeam creeping through the window landed squarely on half his backside, causing him to shift slightly in discomfort. However, as he turned away, the sunlight chased him, forcing him to dodge until he tumbled off the bed with a dull thud.
The noise startled Annan, who watched in surprise as Martin got up like a pre-set alarm clock. Rubbing his eyes, Martin noticed Annan and mumbled something incomprehensible. Seeing no reaction, he patted his chest and repeated one word: "Martin."
Annan nodded, pointing at himself. "Annan."
"Anna?" Martin echoed, tilting his head in confusion. "Sounds like a girl's name."
Annan sighed, correcting him firmly. "It's Annan."
"Shi Anna?"
It took nearly a full minute for Martin to properly pronounce Annan's name. Once that small victory was achieved, the two dressed and headed out to the yard together.
---
In the yard, Aunt Susan was hanging freshly washed clothes on the line. She gently patted a pajama sleeve, muttering something to herself. Annan guessed she was admiring her own handiwork.
Martin, grinning, pointed at the woman. "This is Aunt Susan."
"This is Aunt Susan," Annan repeated, practicing the phrase.
To his surprise, Aunt Susan turned with a wide smile and pulled him into a warm hug. Though Annan didn't understand her words, her tone and gestures radiated kindness.
From that moment, Annan settled into the household. Days passed as he began learning the language and helping out wherever he could.
---
Aunt Susan was the matriarch of the household, handling finances and daily chores. Uncle Hollin, a woodcutter, left for the forest before dawn and returned with heavy bundles of firewood in the afternoon. Martin, though not yet an adult, appeared much older due to his height and strength. His main tasks included splitting wood and selling it at the market during the day before working at the tavern in the evenings.
Martin's strength was remarkable, but his intellect left something to be desired. As Annan observed, it seemed the Creator had poured all his blessings into Martin's physique, skimping a bit on his wits.
Aunt Susan quickly grew fond of Annan, even doting on him more than her own son. She worried constantly, insisting he smear ashes on his face to dull his fair skin, muttering, "Pretty boys like you attract the wrong kind of attention."
---
One week into his stay, Annan had learned enough of the language to hold simple conversations. One morning, while chopping wood in the yard with Martin, Aunt Susan came to check on their progress.
Annan, with raw palms from the rough axe handle, had barely made a dent in his pile. Aunt Susan blew gently on his hands, cooing with sympathy, before turning her ire on Martin.
"You useless boy!" she scolded. "You've been chopping wood for nearly ten years, and this is all you've done?"
"Why do you only scold me?" Martin protested.
"Annan's still learning! What's your excuse?"
Despite her reprimands, there was enough old firewood stored up for Martin and Annan to take to the market.
---
On the way, Martin muttered, "Sometimes I think Aunt Susan likes you more than me."
Annan smirked. "Why do you call her Aunt Susan, anyway?"
"She says I'm too stupid to be her son."
"And Uncle Hollin?"
"He doesn't want people thinking Aunt Susan's embarrassed to be his wife."
Though Annan found the story bittersweet, he couldn't help chuckling.
"Are you laughing at me?" Martin asked, turning around suspiciously.
Annan quickly hid his grin. "No. I didn't understand."
At the market, Martin sold a bundle of firewood for twenty copper coins, while Annan wandered around, taking in the bustling atmosphere.
On the way home, Annan turned to Martin and said, "I want to find work."
"Come to the tavern with me," Martin suggested. "You can be a waiter."
When they informed Aunt Susan of the plan, she looked worried but eventually relented. That evening, Martin returned with good news: "Mr. Fast said to bring you tomorrow morning!"
---
The next morning, Annan followed Martin to Dawn Tavern.
Few people visited pubs during the day, so the place was quiet, chairs stacked upside down on tables. The smell of stale ale permeated the wooden walls and floorboards.
"Mr. Fast, we're here!" Martin called out.
A gruff-looking man emerged from the shadows. With his messy brown hair, long boots, and rapier at his waist, he looked more like a mercenary than a tavern owner.
His amber eyes lingered on Annan's black hair and dark eyes. "We don't get many strangers in Pinglin Town with looks like yours."
"He's my distant cousin!" Martin declared, puffing out his chest.
"...Hmph."
Mr. Fast smirked but didn't challenge the blatant lie. "Six in the evening till midnight. One silver coin a week. Tips are yours to keep. Evelyn will explain things if you work extra shifts. Got it?"
Annan nodded.
---
To celebrate his new job, Aunt Susan prepared a rare feast with meat for lunch. As they ate, she fussed over Annan, giving him all sorts of advice.
"You'll do great," she reassured him.
That evening, Annan accompanied Martin to Dawn Tavern for his first shift.
Donning an apron in the dimly lit kitchen, Annan stepped into the world of work, ready to take on this new chapter in his life.