Leaving the disturbing scene behind, I continued toward the east entrance. At one point, I got turned around, but after asking a guard for directions, I managed to get back on track. The chill in the air was noticeable, but the new clothes I wore provided just enough warmth to keep me comfortable.

After about five minutes, the streets had almost cleared out, with only a few lingering passersby and the occasional patrolling guard. Most of the buildings that still had their lights on were taverns, their windows glowing faintly in the dim evening. The streetlights were simple lanterns—glass cases enclosing a flickering candle inside, casting soft, uneven light that barely reached the ground below.

"Scary," I muttered to myself.

At this hour, I should've been at home, tucked under my blanket, with my laptop open, aimlessly watching something mundane on the internet—not out here hunting for some obscure flower that only bloomed at night or searching for a dog that had been missing for days. The thought of my old life made me uneasy. I desperately wanted this to be some elaborate prank or just a terrible nightmare I'd wake up from.

And finally, I spotted the east entrance gate. It was smaller than the one I’d used to enter the city, with a single door that stood about three or four metres tall. A lone guard stood there, his spear resting against the ground, its sharp tip pointing toward the sky. Slowing my pace, I approached, my cape draped over my left shoulder.

“Hello,” I greeted, giving a nod. “I need to go outside.”

“And I need a chest full of gold, kid,” the guard replied with a smirk. “Why do you want to head out this late?”

“I picked up a quest from the Guild,” I said. “Supposed to gather a flower called redama.”

“Ah, those,” he said, leaning his spear against the wall as he opened the gate. “Got a torch or something?”

“I... don’t,” I admitted.

“Well, good luck out there, then,” he said with a hint of amusement. “Is this your first time leaving the city?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I won’t go far. The flower blooms near bodies of water, right? The closest one should be about ten minutes away.”

“Those ten minutes could stretch into ten hours if you’re not careful, friend,” he said, his tone dropping a bit. “By the way, we caught an elf just now. Keep an eye out. If you see any of them, just run.”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Why do people hate elves?”

“Why?” He looked at me like I’d just asked why the water was blue. “You been living under a rock, kid?”

“I… come from another country,” I said, offering a small, apologetic shrug. “Sorry.”

“Oi!” another guard called out from a distance. “Time to change post!”

“Coming!” the guard I was talking to responded. He turned back to me with a serious look. “Good luck, kid. Don’t go getting yourself killed out there. Graveyard’s full already.”

Just beyond the gate lay a clearing, a stretch of land that opened up to the wilds outside the city. The landscape unfolded into rolling fields dotted with clusters of wildflowers, their soft colours almost glowing under the dim light of the moon. Tall grass swayed in the gentle night breeze, and the occasional tree stood like silent sentinels, their branches rustling quietly. In the distance, the silhouette of a forest loomed, its edges blending into the dark horizon. A narrow dirt path cut through the open ground, leading toward the woods, where the faint shimmer of a stream could just barely be seen glistening in the moonlight. The air was cool, carrying the earthy scent of damp soil and fresh vegetation, and the quiet sounds of nocturnal creatures beginning to stir.

Just before the forest, a small tavern stood welcomingly, its warm lights spilling out into the night and casting a golden glow on the surrounding area. I could hear the inviting sound of laughter and clinking mugs drifting through the open windows. Opposite the tavern, an old outhouse stood, its door creaking and swinging with each gust of wind, adding an eerie touch to the scene. A few houses with small farms were spread out in the area, similar to those near the city’s main entrance, though they were smaller than them.

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Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside and paused for a moment, watching the gate swing shut behind me. I was alone, once again.

“Okay…” I muttered to myself, glancing down the path that stretched ahead. “Let’s go, Ax.”

I pulled my phone from the pocket of my school pants that were draped over my shoulder and turned on the flashlight. Thankfully, the new phone I’d recently bought was fully charged, its battery life boasting a week of usage on a single charge.

“Oh, technology,” I muttered with a dry tone, the glow from the screen casting faint shadows across my face. “Saved me once again.”

With a small sigh, I continued down the path, passing by the nearby tavern as my steps led me closer to the edge of the forest. But as I ventured further into the trees, my earlier courage started to drain away. The flashlight from my phone felt useless, swallowed by the creeping darkness around me, which seemed almost alive, ready to reach out and snatch me away. Every rustle in the underbrush set my nerves on edge, and the birds in the branches above stared down at me, their crimson eyes gleaming like eerie watchers in the night.

My breath hitched as I halted in my tracks. Hesitation gripped me, and with a quick pivot, I retraced my steps and emerged from the woods, relief washing over me. My stomach growled, and I latched onto that excuse—deciding that grabbing a meal was a perfectly reasonable diversion. Truth was, I was just stalling, finding any reason to avoid the darkness because, plain and simple, I was scared.

Pocketing my phone, I pushed open the doors of the tavern. The interior was dimly lit and filled with the low hum of chatter, a few wooden tables scattered around with patrons nursing their drinks. The air smelled faintly of ale and cooked meat, a welcome change to the chilly night outside. Finding an empty table near the corner, I dropped into the chair and set my school uniform beside me.

“Hello, sweetie,” came the voice of a waitress, her smile warm despite the lines of age on her face. She looked to be in her fifties, the type of woman who'd seen it all and then some. “What can I get you?”

I hesitated, not entirely sure what was on the menu in this tavern. “I’ll… just have a simple meal,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Alright, honey. That’ll be one silver.”

Fishing a gold coin from my pocket, I handed it to her. “Here you go,” I said, giving a small nod of thanks.

She took the coin. “I’ll bring your nine silver with your meal, sweetie. How about a drink to go with that? Maybe a beer?”

“Just water, please,” I replied, my tone even.

“Water and a simple meal. Coming right up,” she said, giving me a kind smile before heading off toward the counter. I watched as she leaned in to say something to the woman working there, likely placing my order.

My gaze wandered around the room, stopping when I noticed something familiar hanging on the wall behind the counter. A uniform, similar to mine but older, was displayed above a painting. Curiosity sparked, and I found myself rising from my seat, drawn to it.

As I approached the counter, my eyes locked onto the uniform, my eyes getting wider as I saw it up close. It was unmistakably my school’s uniform, though worn and faded. On the white shirt, the number '1930' was embroidered in bold, italicised letters. I couldn’t be mistaken, it was my school’s uniform, one hundred percent. It even had the initials of our school’s founders, Kara and Nina, written on the chest pocket.

“Shit…” I whispered under my breath, the weight of realisation sinking in. “The lost school… James was right. That fairy tale, this is… 100 years ago…”

The waitress placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, concern in her eyes. “What’s the matter, honey? Couldn’t wait for your meal?”

I blinked, snapping back to the present. “Oh, no. I just—” I pointed vaguely at the uniform. “That uniform. It’s nice.”

“What unifo—oh, that one?” She followed my gaze and nodded, a hint of sadness showing over her face. “It belonged to the tavern owner's son. They both passed away.”

“It was my dad’s,” the woman behind the counter said, her voice flat, yet tinged with a trace of pride. She looked to be in her sixties, her eyes watching me with a mix of curiosity and wariness. “Why do you ask?”

I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat. “It’s… good,” I said quietly, not knowing what else to say.

The woman raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s it? It’s good? You came all the way over here to say that?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, feeling a bit foolish. “Sorry for bothering you.”

The waitress patted my shoulder again and gave me a sympathetic smile. “It’s alright, sweetie. You look exhausted. Go on and sit back down. We’ll have you fed in no time. No worries.”

I nodded gratefully, muttering a soft, “Yeah,” before returning to my table. I sank back into the chair, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. “No worries…”