You know, I was told that with age came experience, knowledge, wisdom, and all of that stuff.

And yet, I still don't know how to begin this diary of mine.

I've been sitting at my desk for three days, and I'm getting tired of not finding the perfect beginning for this.

Maybe that's for the best.

I was never perfect after all.

.....

My calloused hand sets down a pen on my desk after months of writing.

"Finally, I'm done with this stupid diary."

My wife sticks her head into the room, and her voice enters my head.

I focus on my wife as she uses her hands to sign me "Laughing"

"Oh please, you don't know how to write a diary."

I raised my eyebrow. Oh yeah? "Then what's this, then?"

I hold up the newly finished manuscript for my diary.

My wife takes one look at the papers, shakes her head, and walks closer to me.

"Dear, That..." She points at my diary. "Is a novel."

I stare at her for a second, then look back at my diary.

After a few seconds of inner turmoil, I finally relent.

"Okay, it could be a novel."

As I continue to stare at the stack of papers in my hand, lost in thought, my wife walks up and gives me a peck on the lips.

I start in surprise and look at her retreating form as she walks out of our room with a cheeky smile.

"We're going to have Orion over later, so I'm going to go start preparing food. Message me if you need anything."

I smile for a bit, then turn back to my work.

My eyes narrow as I look at the unfinished book.

"...a novel, huh...?"

I start flicking through the pages once more.

I've got some time before dinner.

.....

Act 1 - Chapter 1

This is my story.

I've always been special.

Everyone who knows me can tell you that.

There are multiple factors that could play into that; for example, you could say I was a genius. You could say that I was dexterous, that I had a good memory, and that I was very charismatic.

I am charismatic, no matter what my wife tells you.

Back to what I was saying, most of that isn't true.

I'm not a genius, and while I do have a good memory, it's more of a curse than a boon.

No, I'm special in the "other" way. The kind of special where people whisper behind your back and use the word special to be "kind" to you.

I'm not all that torn up about it; they're just jealous.

Let me introduce myself.

I'm the city freak, and my name is Lewis.

Yes, just Lewis.

Some of you could be wondering if I'm maybe hiding my last name due to a wonderful heritage, or maybe I'm magically cursed to never pass on my name.

Ha!

Nope.

It's nothing as grand as that, however sad I am to admit it. Wouldn't that have been so cool, though?

I just don't have a last name. I haven't found one that fits me.

Yup, I just haven't picked one yet.

.....

Something hit the side of my head, and I shot back to reality.

Crap, was I daydreaming again?

Looking upwards, a person was standing over me, their mouth moving rapidly, their face pinched, and their bloated cheeks turning dark shades of red. A mask with blue scales covered the upper half of his face.

Is he capable of breathing??

Oh, right, I should probably listen to him.

Then again, I could probably already guess what he was saying.

I had been through this many times before.

Just another troublesome customer...

Sliding onto my knees, ignoring the broken glass and alcohol on the floor, I prepared to leave before the situation got any worse.

I walked over to the closest cleaning supplies I spotted, and then something unusual happened.

A peal of a bell rang in my mind—a deep, resonant sound. And then my sight vanished.

Disbelief washed through me as I realized what happened.

Wha....?

He blinded me! But... I'm unawakened!

Turning around and focusing enough to hear, I started talking to the mad customer.

"You know blinding an unawakened is punishable by jail time, right?

Even though I couldn't see him, I could almost feel the sinister vibes coming off of him now, manifesting as a spiraling red mist in my mind.

The red mist started revolving faster as he noticed I was staring right at him.

"Well, it's a good thing that no one is going to find out."

Oh... not this again.

My fingers fell over my pure white mask, and I let out an exasperated breath.

"Look, I actually can't remember what I did to offend you, so can we just agree on some outcome that doesn't involve violence?"

My sight started to return, and the eerie silence in the room stood out even more.

I was standing in my newest find for work, the Kraa's Grasp. It was a decently good bar in one of the middle layers of the city and was open to nobles and commoners alike. It was usually a lively place, full of laughter, and it valued secrecy above all else. Masks were distributed on the way in, and revealing your identity could get you kicked out. This ensured that the common people and the nobles could interact without prejudice.

I, myself, had a pure white mask that covered my entire face, except for my eyes. I could feel there were cracks on the mask now, probably because of the slap earlier.

Running my hand along where the cracks were, I pulled my hand in front of my eyes.

Oh. That's a lot of blood. Damn it, Sierra is going to be mad at me again.

The other customers, dressed in poor clothes and rich clothes alike, stood at the edges of the room, looking like they were trying to press themselves out of the fat guy's sight. Various colors of smoke manifested around them, from deep blues to frantic yellows, and I was surprised to see a few wisps of red smoke coming from some of the men.

Clearly, this guy isn't known for his glowing reputation.

This jerk didn't know the rules of this establishment, and clearly, people could recognize him even with his mask.

The red mist was filing off of him in droves, reaching the corners of the room.

Wow, he got that mad from a small scuffle?

"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM YOU-"

After he barely managed to get those words out of his mouth, he devolved into a spluttering mess.

I wanted to speak up and say, "No, idiot. Your wearing a mask", but fanning the flames would only make this worse.

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I just stared instead. That seemed much more friendly.

The man seemed to react to this, and the parts of his face that were visible somehow turned even more red.

The mist that was pouring out of him started slowly turning black.

Uh.

That's not good.

Adding a bit of respect to hopefully calm him down, I decided to speak.

"Sir, I would be happy to continue this elsewhere, but violence is not permitted in this establishment, by order of the King himself."

Walking up to him slowly, my eyes trained on where his should be, I continued in a cold voice.

"And please don't reveal your name here. That would ruin the reputation of our humble establishment."

Gritting his teeth, the heavy black mist still pouring out of him with every labored breath, he slowly closed the rest of the distance between us.

When he was a few inches away, he started whispering through his teeth.

"You unawakened filth. I'm going to hang your head on my wall and feed the rest of your body to the common filth of this city. I could kill everyone you know, and no one would blink an eye."

He's probably telling the truth about that.

Damn, look at how his fat is bouncing. That's so fascinating. How does someone even get this out of shape?

Pulling my mind back to the situation at hand, I slide my non-bloody hand onto his shoulder, and before he can react, I take his bloodlust away.

It somehow tastes much worse than normal.

How twisted can you be, jiggles...?

"Excuse me, sir; I'm going to have you leave the establishment now. You are disrupting the other customers."

His mount drops in obvious confusion, and he starts to look around wildly.

...Wow. He can jiggle more. I'm honestly impressed.

He looks back at me and tilts his head.

"What... are you...?"

Staring at him in a calming way, I respond with a simple, practiced response.

"I am nobody of importance. I am simply a waiter."

My hand is still on his shoulder, and I start to guide him out of the bar. He walks with me, woodenly, as if he's not all there anymore.

And now the mistress is going to be mad at me.

Maybe I took it too far again.

And I was starting to like this job.

As I shoo him out the door, his mask gets taken back by the ushers, and I turn my head out of respect.

I don't want to see him.

He's not important in the long run.

The double doors get closed, and I walk back to the counter.

My leather boots click along the floor, and I hesitate to look over above the bar.

The bartender, Sierra, was glaring at me.

I motion with my eyes that I'm fine, and after she glares at me a bit more, she sighs and takes off her apron.

Yelling out to the customers, she tries to work the atmosphere back to normal.

"Everyone! The problem is solved for now, so please go back to what you were doing before. I'm sure this waiter is VERY sorry that he caused such a commotion, but please pay it no attention."

At the word "very," she glares at me again, and cleverly thwarts my attempts at escaping the room without her noticing.

The room's atmosphere starts to relax, and some people start to head back to their seats.

As soon as the small buzz of conversation started up again, she hung up her apron and brushed past me into a small room behind the bar.

I'm sure grabbing my ear was a complete mistake.

For some reason, she does that to me a lot.

As soon as she finishes pulling me into the room - rather harshly, I might add - She closes the door and pulls off my mask. She then runs a hand over my face, reminding me of a few minutes before when I did the same thing.

"Is your cheek okay? You got a few shards still stuck in there." She gestures to her own cheek to imitate the damage on mine.

My eyes dart over to her hand, now covered in my blood.

Oh, I forgot I was bleeding.

I look back at her, and her eyes indicate that she's waiting for me to say something.

"Sierra, you know I can't feel it. I'm perfectly fine."

She rolls her eyes and pulls me over to a chair that I just noticed was in the room. I sat down on the chair and took the small portable mirror that was offered to me.

I swear, it's like she's always prepared for this.

Sierra leaned against the wall of the small room, just watching me quietly as I worked on my face.

She also does that a lot.

To be fair, what are you supposed to talk about when someone is pulling mask shrapnel out of their face?

Wow, my face got really messed up this time.

Three massive would-be scars marred my cheek, with the longest being about the length of my middle finger, and the other two complimenting it were about as long as my thumb in length.

I focus on pulling out mask shards for a few minutes and start to dab away the still-drying blood with a few supplies the small room had.

Eventually, the quiet in the room seemed to annoy Sierra, and the need for conversation dug its grubby little claws into her mind.

"I need to go continue working, but real quick - I have to know."

I look over at my friend, raise an eyebrow, and then go back to picking the smaller shards out of my face.

She continues while staring at my face, like she's trying to pull out my secrets with her gaze. "What did you do to piss off a bigshot like that?"

Positively covered in my own blood, I look over and gesture in an iconic 'I have no clue' shrug. "I don't recognize him, even a little bit."

I laugh to myself and respond after a moment, "Pretty sure I would remember a person that... Impressive."

Sierra looks at me for a few more moments, then sighs. "It's probably your eyes again. You just look too defiant. A little sharp. A smidge deadly? I can go on."

Looking over the massive lacerations in my face, I inspect them for any shards I missed.

"Yeah, probably. I can't really change that, though."

Waving her away, she checks on me one more time and then heads back to tend the bar.

I cover my face as I head outside and up a small ladder attached to the side of the room. The upstairs only had a few rooms. The mistress' room, the VIP rooms, and the employee lounge. I walk over to the employee lounge and, with great luck, spot Terry, the manager for some of the newer kids.

After talking with him for a few minutes, I handed him my broken mask. He can submit that for repair, thank goodness.

I guess I could go help out with some backstage stuff while my mask was being fixed.

Why would he hit the mask...????

It's so inconvenient.

Letting out a sigh, I walk through the back door of the employee lounge.