Everything that followed went smoothly... probably.
Rod was in a daze. He only remembered being carried by someone, the ground swaying as if the sky was moving. By the time it stopped, he no longer had the strength to check anything and fell into a deep sleep, waking up shortly after.
Opening his eyes, the room was dim. Rod tried to get up, but pain shot through his body, an odd sensation from the alcohol echoing in his mind. He struggled to sit up and leaned against the wall.
The drunken memories became clearer. At first, Rod was a bit panicky, but upon recollection, he realized he hadn't done anything outrageous. In fact, his small alcohol tolerance made him seem ridiculous.
Ah... how terrible.
Rod was never good at drinking; his tolerance was very low. Drinking a little was enough to make him drunk. He remembered the first time he drank was when bidding farewell to his family before heading to Old Dunling.
Old Dunling, a beautiful city, a city of despair.
