When evil gods hold a meeting in my head

Richard pushed open the door and walked into the White Mud Tree Tavern.

A wave of heat washed over him, carrying the aroma of ale and roasted meat, along with the crackling of firewood burning in the fireplace. The tavern was larger than he had imagined; the entrance led to a spacious hall with a dozen or so heavy oak tables and solid wood stools, polished to a gleaming shine. Several kerosene lamps hung on the walls, their warm orange glow bathing the space. In a corner, a large fireplace burned brightly, around which several men sat, chatting quietly with their glasses in hand.

The bar was on the right, long and spotless, with a row of liquor racks behind it filled with bottles of all sizes. A young man in an apron was wiping glasses when he heard the door open and looked up.

He saw Richard supporting the unconscious Dansha, paused for a moment, then quickly put down the cup in his hand and ran over.

"Boss? What happened?" The young man reached out to support Dansha on the other side, his face full of concern. "Are you drunk?"

Richard nodded: "I ran into him outside. He was dead drunk and almost fell in the alley. I asked him where he was from, and he said White Mud Tree Tavern, so I brought him back."

The young man breathed a sigh of relief, then shook his head helplessly: "That young boss is really something. He never drinks in his own shop; he always insists on going out to drink. His father has told him so many times, but he just won't listen."

Richard's heart skipped a beat. This was a lucky coincidence—he was just wondering how to explain why Dansha had been "drunk" by him, and now he had a ready-made reason. Drinking outside his own shop instead of at his own restaurant, and being brought home drunk, made perfect sense.

The young man helped Dansha inside, saying as he went, "Sir, you're so kind. These days, there aren't many people willing to take a drunkard home. Please have a seat, I'll put the young boss down and then come and serve you."

Richard waved his hand: "No need to be polite, I know him."

The young man placed Dansha on a bench against the wall, told him to sit comfortably against the wall, poured him a glass of water and placed it beside him, before turning back.

"Sir, are you a friend of the boss?" the young man asked, his tone tinged with curiosity. "I've never seen you before."

Richard nodded: "I guess so, we haven't known each other for very long."

The young man said "Oh," and was about to say something when he suddenly looked up and glanced out the window. Richard followed his gaze—it was already dark outside, and the moon hung in the sky, big and round, illuminating the streets outside in a silvery light.

"It's getting dark," the young man muttered, then turned to Richard. "Sir, do you have a place to stay tonight?"

Richard was taken aback for a moment.

He hadn't had time to think about that question yet.

Seeing his expression, the young man knew he had nowhere to stay, and said with a smile, "Why don't you stay at our shop for the night? The boss hasn't come back yet, and there are several empty rooms upstairs."

He paused, his gaze falling on Rosalie and Thales behind Richard, then asked hesitantly, "These two... are they with you?"

Richard nodded: "Together."

The young man looked troubled. "Well... sir, it's not that I'm stingy, it's just that there are so many people, I need to verify with the young boss. You see, you know the young boss, but he's so drunk right now, I can't ask him..."

Richard looked at him and understood the shop assistant's predicament. A stranger with three other people, including a woman who was clearly not quite right in the head, wanted to stay overnight in the shop; anyone would hesitate in that situation.

He sighed, raised his right hand, and snapped his fingers lightly.

A crisp snap.

Purple mist surged from the ring, drifted towards the young man, and entered his nose.

The young man's eyes began to glaze over, but he still maintained that troubled expression on his face.

Richard looked at him and slowly said, "The young boss and I are truly best friends; we've known each other since childhood. How could he possibly be unhappy if I stayed at his shop for one night?"

The young man paused for a moment, opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't get the words out.

Richard continued, "You can put tonight's room fee on the landlord's tab. When he wakes up and asks, he won't complain at all; he might even thank you for arranging my accommodation."

The young man blinked, and the embarrassment on his face slowly disappeared, replaced by an expression of sudden realization.

"Yeah..." he murmured, "You and the boss are good friends, what's wrong with staying one night? I really... how come I didn't think of that before?"

He grinned, becoming as enthusiastic as if he were a completely different person.

"Come, come, let me take you upstairs." He turned and walked towards the stairs, saying as he went, "There are plenty of empty rooms upstairs, feel free to choose any you like. The boss's friend is my friend, so don't be shy."

Richard helped Danza up and pulled Rosalie along. Thales jogged behind, looking confused but not daring to ask any questions.

The second floor was a narrow corridor with seven or eight wooden doors on either side. The young man pushed open the innermost door, revealing a small room furnished with a double bed, a table, and two chairs. The window was closed, but the sound of the waves could be heard outside.

"This is the biggest one," the young man said. "You and the boss will stay here."

He then pushed open the door next door: "This room is for that lady; it's quiet."

Finally, he pointed to the end of the corridor: "That's the restroom. If you need hot water, you can come downstairs and call me."

Richard nodded and put Dansha on the bed. Dansha snorted, turned over, and continued sleeping.

Rosalie was moved to the next room, while Thales stayed in Richard's room and made a makeshift bed on the floor. The young man brought over two clean blankets and spread them thickly on the floor. Thales lay down on them and sighed with comfort.

"You all should get some rest." The young man stepped back to the door. "I'll prepare breakfast tomorrow morning. Just call me whatever you'd like to eat."

He closed the door, and his footsteps faded into the distance.

The room fell silent.

Richard sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window for a while. The moon was big and round, hanging in the deep blue sky, and its light shone through the window, casting a silvery glow on the floor.

Thales lay down on the floor and soon fell asleep, breathing evenly. He was exhausted today; he had been running all the way and then trapped in that strange courtyard, his spirit was long gone.

Dansha lay on the bed, still in a deep sleep, breathing heavily.

Richard leaned against the headboard, gazing at the full moon outside the window, and suddenly found himself unable to sleep.

He thought of Putta, Alice, the letter, the book street, and the woman who burned books to save people.

The world is far more complex than he imagined. There are good people and bad people, kind people and evil people. There are those who would burn their most precious possessions to save others, and there are those who would do anything evil for profit.

What kind of person is Puta? And what kind of person is Alice?

he does not know.

The moonlight shone on his face, cool to the touch.

Just then, a voice suddenly came from downstairs, so soft it seemed to drift from a great distance.

"I'm so cold... I'm so cold..."

It was a little boy's voice, trembling with tears, looking pitiful.

Richard suddenly sat up straight.

The voice rang out again, this time clearer: "I'm so cold... can someone give me some warmth..."

He looked out the window.

The streets were deserted under the moonlight; there wasn't a soul in sight.

But the sound continued, one note after another, growing ever more desolate.