A man in his late twenties was in the kitchen, preparing a meal. The aroma of the ingredients mixed in the air as he skillfully stirred a frying pan.
"Lugh, the food's ready!" he shouted down the hallway.
In the room, a young man around sixteen, Lugh, was sitting at a table full of antiques. His eyes gleamed with fascination as he examined an old, black pocket watch he had bought from a rare objects store.
'The design of this watch is impressive...' he thought to himself, completely absorbed in the mechanism.
Suddenly, there was a click, followed by the sound of a door slowly opening.
"Lugh, I'm talking to you! The food's ready!" the man's voice called again.
"Sorry, Uncle, I was busy with this beauty," Lugh replied, pointing to the watch with a satisfied smile.
Jang Tae-Sung, his adoptive uncle, clicked his tongue in impatience.
"Kid, the food's going to get cold if you keep messing with that trinket. Come on, let's eat!"
Lugh smiled again, amused by his uncle's reaction, and responded casually.
"Alright, Uncle, I'm coming down."
Though they weren't related by blood, Lugh had always considered Tae-Sung his only family. He had been adopted by him when he was young, and although their relationship wasn't perfect, he saw him as the only person in the world who truly cared about him.
'This uncle doesn't know how to appreciate a Mona Lisa when it's right in front of him...' Lugh thought, as he carefully put the watch away in a drawer to fix later.
He hurried down to the kitchen, where his uncle had already served the meal. They both sat down at the table and began eating in silence. After a while, Jang Tae-Sung looked at him with a stern expression.
"Lugh, you little brat..."
"What's up, Uncle?" Lugh asked, raising an eyebrow.
"How's school going?" Tae-Sung asked, frowning.
Lugh sighed internally. He knew this conversation was bound to come up sooner or later.
"Good, Uncle, I pass everything, you know how it is... I've never had bad grades," Lugh replied, avoiding his uncle's gaze.
Tae-Sung clicked his tongue, annoyed.
"Then why won't your teacher leave me alone? She always lectures me during my break."
Lugh smiled mischievously.
"Well, Uncle, I might not pay much attention in class, but my homework isn't hard. I'm a genius, plus... I think my teacher uses me as an excuse to talk to you."
Jang Tae-Sung let out a long sigh, visibly frustrated.
"And don't think I don't notice you being late to school because you're off buying trinkets."
Lugh, with an exaggeratedly indignant expression, raised his hands.
"Excuse me, what?! Trinkets? If you weren't my uncle, you'd already be dead for saying that," he laughed, never losing his smile.
Jang Tae-Sung shook his head, resigned.
"This kid is hopeless. By the way, don't even think about being late today. I warn you, if I find out you caused trouble, I'm going to punish you."
Lugh finished his meal quickly, stood up, and without waiting for his uncle to finish talking, ran out the door.
"This kid won't even let me finish talking, and he's already gone!" Tae-Sung muttered, watching Lugh run off. "And he didn't even finish his rice! If it were my parents, they would've punished me severely for wasting food…"
Lugh ran down a busy street, where the hustle and bustle of people mixed with the calls of street vendors. He was in a commercial area filled with cheap objects, antiques, and junk nobody wanted. It was the perfect place for Lugh, who was always drawn to strange and mysterious things. He was an eccentric, carefree person, whose only goal was to satisfy his own desires and curiosities.
He hummed a song he couldn't remember where he'd heard, but he liked, as he walked, observing a variety of fascinating items. He was looking for parts to repair a pocket watch he had bought days earlier. It was black, with Roman numerals, and an elegant design, but it didn't work. Most people considered it a mere paperweight, but Lugh thought differently. To him, the watch represented something much bigger: it was an object that had belonged to someone in the 16th century, and even though that person no longer existed, his story would live on in the pocket watch.
"Shit, I can't find anything... maybe I'll have to make the pieces myself," he muttered, frustrated.
Suddenly, a strong breeze blew, like a distant whisper. It seemed as if the breeze was speaking to him, as if a ghostly voice was calling him.
Come to me, come to me and claim me...
Lugh, almost hypnotized by the voice, walked without thinking, following the direction of the breeze until he reached a darker part of the market. There, he found an old man sitting on a blanket, surrounded by dusty, old objects. The man, who looked like a vagabond, watched him with interest as Lugh approached, not paying attention to his surroundings.
"Hey, kid! Are you listening to me? Are you alright?" asked the old man, with a somewhat worried look.
Lugh, still distracted, barely reacted.
"Sorry, I was distracted..." he replied, without taking his eyes off the object that had caught his attention: an old, worn book.
The old man looked at him closely, sensing something strange. He couldn't help but notice the intensity of Lugh's eyes and their sky-blue color, as if something about him seemed familiar.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Lugh, unable to resist, spoke quickly.
"Sir, how much is the book?" he asked, pointing at the object that had caught his attention.
The old man fell silent for a moment, looking thoughtful before responding.
"10 lumes ," he finally said.
Lugh paused for a second. The price was high, almost all of his savings, but something inside told him he had to have that book. So, without thinking too much, he pulled out his wallet and handed over the money.
"Thank you, sir. If you don't mind, could you tell me what this book is about?" he asked, curious.
The old man raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"You bought a book without knowing what it is?" he asked, with a mixture of astonishment and confusion.
Lugh nodded, unfazed.
"I'm a collector. I like old things," he replied with a mischievous smile.
The old man sighed, as if he saw in him a rich or spoiled child, before speaking again.
"Well, if you don't know what it is, it'll be hard to read. It's in a lost language. The previous owner deciphered it, but he died, and no one has read it since. I only know the name of the book..." he said, with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
Lugh's eyes shone with excitement as he quickly asked.
"What's it called?"
The old man, with a sigh, looked at him deeply before saying:
"It's called The King of the Wildlings."