Rose could feel the heavy atmosphere hanging over the village, a quiet despair that had taken hold. Despite their daily chores and their work in the fields, things had changed. Winter was approaching, and people were getting anxious about what would happen next.
Before, they had been worried about the winter, but now they were dreading it. There was a sense of death in the air, as people knew some would starve to death this winter. It could be them, their neighbors, or even family members.
As Rose walked back home after buying some essential items, she stumbled in on her father and Nok talking in the living room. Her father slammed his fists on the table, "No, I can't accept this! Do you take my honor as something you can put a price on?!"
For the first time in a while, she saw her father angry. He stared at a silver coin on the table as if it had tried to kill him.
Confused, Rose asked, "Father, what's happening?"
Nok laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, about that. I might be leaving soon, so I wanted to show your father that I appreciated his hospitality."
Rose's father was visibly upset. "I brought you into my home, fed you, and clothed you because you helped me with a wagon that no one else would have wanted to help me with. Then you help me with my fieldwork. You help me so much, and then just pay me? Do you think I'm some dishonorable cunt?"
What was the problem here? Rose still couldn’t see why her father was mad.
She stared at the silver coin on the table, enough for her and her father to have enough food for the winter. Ignoring her father's honor, Rose walked toward the table and took the silver coin. "We accept your generosity."
Her father yelled at her, "Rose, don't you dare do this! He helped us out so much, and we just take his money?! This isn't-"
"Father, let's just accept this once," Rose interrupted him. She wasn't a fan of starving to death, and never understood why some men were so obsessed with honor. Honor couldn't feed your family or keep you warm during winter.
“Thanks for your hospitality. This has been a nice break,” Nok turned his head slightly and flashed a warm, friendly smile at Rose. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his lips curved upwards, revealing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. The smile reached his eyes, giving them a sparkling glint that radiated with genuine happiness.
Rose felt her own lips twitching upwards in response. She couldn't help but feel a little bit of warmth spreading in her chest at the sight of Nok's infectious grin. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about the kind of person he was.
“After the exorcist comes and checks things. I will be able to leave knowing that everything was fine, and not worry about it on my journey,” he added.
Her father reluctantly agreed, and the room fell into a comfortable silence.
…
Later that night, her father fell asleep at the table, and Rose brought a blanket for him. With only her and Nok awake, they looked at each other, and Nok nodded, smiling at the silence as if teasing her and waiting for her to lose an unspoken game of who could stay quiet the longest. But this time, his smile never reached his eyes.
“If something is bothering you, you can spill it now,” Rose said.
Nok leaned back on the wooden chair, and his smile widened. “If you haven't guessed by now, I'm not exactly just a simple traveler from some village.”
Well, duh, no normal person was rich enough to drop a silver coin as if it was nothing; for the average villager, that was more than enough to live on for a couple of months if they spent it sparingly.
Rose didn't call him out on it. It was clear that her new friend was worried about something.
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“Are you ever afraid of getting too addicted to something?” He asked.
“No, not really,” Rose answered without missing a beat. She wasn't dumb enough to try addictive substances or had the money to do that. “Where would you even get drugs in a small village like this?”
“I'm not talking about alcohol or other substances here,” Nok clarified. “But getting addicted to something you like.”
"That's what alcoholism is, you don't see people who don't like the taste of alcohol getting addicted to it." Rose insisted.
Nok seemed ready to argue, but instead he sighed and said, "I mean things like reading or playing football or other activities like those."
Rose was puzzled about where he was going with this, so she responded, "That sounds more like something you love or passion, than an addiction. If you're going to call those addictions, then I'm addicted to reading. But my addiction is pretty mild, as you can see.”
She gestured around her home at the inexpensive furniture made by the local carpenter, who was also a part-time hunter and blacksmith. He wasn't very good at any of those jobs but could hardly be called mediocre at any of them. It was all cheap furniture, showing Nok that not many people in the village had the spare money for luxuries.
"Besides," Rose continued, looking Nok in the eye, "who doesn’t have something they love to do? Some people are addicted to eating good food, while others love food, others are addicted to their work, and others love work. At a point it becomes hard to tell something you love to do and are addicted to. We all live our lives in our ‘addictions’, so the key is to make sure that it doesn’t ruin your life and choose an ‘addiction’ that will damage your health, and you should be fine."
***
I was in disbelief as Rose's words sunk in. Here was a young girl from a village, who had never even laid eyes on a television, and she had just dropped some major revelations onto me. Despite her young age (was she 18 or 19? I couldn't remember), she was surprisingly wise.
And she was right about one thing: if we were going to indulge in addictive behaviors, it would be wiser to choose beneficial ones. Sometimes the line between loving something and being addicted to it was quite hard to distinguish. Especially in a world like this where the literal power system supported extreme behaviors.
…
A few days had passed when a new arrival appeared. He wore a royal blue tracksuit with white stripes down the sides that hugged his lean, toned frame. The material looked expensive and high-quality, with a slight sheen to it in the light. Over the tracksuit, he had on a jet-black cloak with the word "exorcist" emblazoned on the back in bold, silver letters. The cloak fell to just above his ankles, billowing out slightly behind him as he moved.
This was the exorcist sent to deal with the Myron situation. The kid had already been returned to his home, and despite their busy schedules, the villagers had helped fix his home somewhat; at least, cleaned up the place and covered the holes in the roof.
According to Carpy, Myron had been bitten by an Ord awakening mosquito and was a Creator, which was a volatile affinity for dangerous accidental abilities. Since his mother had died, Myron had the ability to create something terrifying, and he had a long lifespan to play around with.
That's why Carpy kept an eye on him. I was just a stranger to the kid, but Carpy seemed to have earned his trust.
This was an intriguing moment for Carpy because he was taking his own steps to get closer to other people and helping Myron learn to stand on his own two feet.
The villagers feared Myron, and many suspected he was a demon in disguise so none even dared approach him.
“Damn it, this is the same scumbag as before,” Rose swore under her breath when she saw the exorcist.
The exorcist approached the village elder, and the villagers put on fake smiles to greet him, pretending to be pleased to have him there.
After the whispered conversation with the exorcist, the village elder turned around and addressed the other villagers with a forced smile. "My dear people, let us celebrate the safe arrival of the exorcist with a feast in his honor."
Every word he spoke seemed to put the village elder on edge, and the other people weren't any happier. However, the exorcist appeared oblivious to the disapproving stares he received.
Since everyone was already struggling with food shortages, the exorcist's request for a feast must have been perceived as a thinly veiled threat. However, the villagers were powerless to resist or report it to the authorities, who would likely side with the exorcist.
As he conversed with some of the villagers, the exorcist's sharp eyes scanned the crowd with a sense of purpose, as if he were looking for a specific individual. His piercing gaze swept over each person in turn, analyzing their expressions and body language for any signs of distress or unease.
When his gaze fell upon me, my heart skipped a beat. However, he simply glanced past me as if I were invisible to him.
As I watched the guy from across the field, a feeling of unease crept up my spine. There was something about him that didn't quite sit right with me. Maybe it was how he kept glancing around as if looking for prey.