As the weeks and days go on, Altnerate Ange continued to live his new life, only fighting when it was started by others, which, of course, never really happened often. When it did though, it was always counted as self-defense, which always kept things from getting really messy in the bar. As he worked, he checked 'his' phone. To be fair, he wasn't used to these cell phones, but he was getting the hang of it. No one had reported the body just yet, thank God, but he still should be cautious, just in case. Life outside of work was dull, not much really happened, except for the occasional message on social media. he knew that this site called 'Tumblr' was really popular among these people, and he can see why. It was all chaos, and there were barely any worries there, just good times. But what really confused him was that people on Twitter were going on and on about politics and the like, when it was literally stated that this time, we're in a state of emergency, so why the flying fuck were they going on about whatever politics are left in this damned world? It is pointless. In the end, they're all gonna die soon enough anyways. He couldn't wait for the people to realize that they will have to just suck it up and live with the fact other beings believe in different things. He does means, well, not everyone is easy to agree with, if at all, so why try and change them? It just didn't make much sense to him.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

-=+=-

Another week has gone by, and no one has caught on to him yet, which is odd, since SOMEONE should have been dumb enough to wander deep in the forest and report the body... then again, they could've been killed too, so there's that. He liked that idea, mainly because it kept him safe, undetected by the local law, who would try to kill him, or worse. He shuddered at the potential worse since he would be rather clueless as to what that could be, and he hopes he never had to know. Now he starts to think about what he has been told in the past... All these things he had to do made no sense sometimes, like what the hell they meant he had to 'entertain' the people in the bar? Don't they mean he has to keep them under control and out of jail or some shit? It just didn't click with him. Maybe it was because he was technically new to the whole bartender shit... or he's just dumb. Ah well, life goes on, as they always tell him. They always had something to say, didn't they? There had to be something said, something to speak of, even though silence is as strong as noise, or, as he believed anyways. As the days went by, he becomes more and more restless, Why was that? he wondered. Why am I feeling like this? I should be fine, right? Questions kept crawling in, and he wasn't a fan of them all.

-=+End of Month 1+=-