"Ho ho! I got some pretty good sales!" Old man Moltur said proudly, holding up a small cloth bag. When he shook it, the soft clinking of coins echoed inside, a sound he always enjoyed hearing.
"Now I'll wait until Azren comes and sells the things he finds," he murmured, settling down with a satisfied sigh.
Just as he leaned back, a voice called out to him.
"Mr. Moltur!."
The voice was Azren's, but something about it sounded weak, almost drained.
Old man Moltur looked forward quickly and saw Azren walking toward him. He was carrying a plastic bag in his hand, but his smile was faint and tired.
"Oh? You are very early today, my boy. It's just the cusp of highsun," Moltur said, surprised.
Azren placed the bag on the ground.
"Well, I found a pretty good place today, so I just collected some items," he said softly.
He turned the bag upside down, letting everything fall out. Old spoons, a cracked plate, several flat metal pieces, and a handful of old nails scattered across the floor.
Old man Moltur stared at the pile, confused.
"Huh? Is this still all?"
Azren nodded awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
"Yes… I don't kinda feel good today. So I was also thinking if you could check on me… hehe."
Old man Moltur's eyes softened.
"Oh, I see. You should have told me earlier. It's not good working while being sick, you know. Come sit here and tell me."
Azren gave a small smile and slowly walked over to sit beside him.
Old man Moltur placed his hand on Azren's forehead.
"So what happened? Are you feeling dizzy or having a headache?"
Azren shook his head.
"Hmm, not at all… how can I say… I just feel tired."
Old man Moltur frowned.
"Huh, tired? You should rest and eat then. If you don't have anything to eat, then tell me."
Azren quickly shook his head.
"No, I did eat and drink last night, and I slept too. But still… I feel tired, just like yesterday."
The moment he said that, Moltur's eyes slowly widened.
"What!"
Azren nodded again, not understanding.
Old man Moltur pulled his hand back. His eyes were stretched wide, his breathing grew heavier, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest.
"Did… did you feel something else…" he whispered.
Azren tilted his head.
"Something else?"
Old man Moltur nodded anxiously.
"Like… did anything happen? Before that?"
Azren tried thinking. His expression slowly grew tense. And then he remembered.
His eyes widened as the memory hit him.
"Oh yeah! I remember seeing something white. Like… all I could see was white, and something was moving."
Old man Moltur's face drained of color. His eyes widened even more, his mouth opening slowly in shock—no, in horror.
Azren continued casually,
"I thought I saw it because I was just too hungry and tired."
But as soon as he saw Moltur's expression, he went quiet. Confusion filled his face.
"Huh? What happened, Mr. Moltur?"
Old man Moltur's hands began to tremble. Tears welled up in his eyes. His voice shook violently.
"This can't be true… no…"
Azren panicked a little.
"Huh?! What's wrong! Why are you crying!!"
Old man Moltur suddenly grabbed his shoulders, gripping tightly.
"My boy! Can you come somewhere with me!."
Azren blinked in shock.
"H-Huh? Somewhere???"
Moltur nodded desperately.
"Yes… I want you to go somewhere. Because I'm sure… it's not the thing I'm thinking…"
Azren nodded slowly.
"Ok… if you say so… But what happened? Can you tell me?"
Old man Moltur stood up with a heavy expression.
"We cannot waste our time discussing here, my boy. So just stand up and start following me."
Azren quickly got up.
"A-alright…"
They stepped out of the house and began walking at a fast pace.
Along the way, a person saw them and called out,
"Hello Mr. Moltur, are you going somewhere?"
But Moltur didn't reply. His face was cold and serious, so serious that the man stepped aside silently.
Azren followed behind him, confused and nervous.
'I wonder what happened…' he thought, keeping his eyes on Moltur's tense back.
Old man Moltur led Azren forward without slowing down, their footsteps crunching over broken plastic and thin metal sheets. The deeper they went, the stranger the path became. The mountains of junk, towering pillars made from rusted machines, cracked plastic walls, twisted wires, and old containers, began shrinking the farther they walked. What was once a chaotic maze of towering rubbish slowly dipped lower and lower.
Azren kept wiping his forehead. Sweat dripped down his cheek, and every few steps his vision blurred.
'What is going on… I'm just walking… so why am I…'
His legs felt heavier than usual, his breath shaky as if he had been running for hours. His body wanted to fall right there on the trash-covered path.
After what felt like a long walk, they finally reached a strange sight, like an island in the sea of junk.
It was a circle of land with no trash at all. Clean dirt, flattened ground, and enough open space to stand and breathe properly. But the clean circle was surrounded by walls of garbage rising like hills, trapping the place in a round gap of clarity.
At the center of this circle, several people stood talking, some loading boxes into wooden carriages. A few horses were tied to posts, their tails swishing. But most carriages were empty, only three remained, and only one of them had a single horse left ready to travel.
Old man Moltur hurried forward, pulling Azren along until he found a carriage where people were climbing in. He approached the man holding the horse's leash.
"Hello, can I have a seat for two people to go Herakita."
The man gave him a puzzled look.
"Huh? Herakita? Only one seat is left, and I'm the only one heading that way. So… I can't take two more people."
Old man Moltur froze.
"What! This can't be."
He turned to Azren who looked like he could collapse any second and then frantically searched through a pile of rubbish nearby. His hands moved fast, flipping through scraps until he found an old piece of paper. Without hesitation, he bit his finger, letting a small drop of blood fall.
He started writing quickly.
Azren blinked in confusion.
"Huh… what is he doing…"
When Moltur finished writing, he folded the paper tightly, rushed to Azren, and grabbed his shoulders.
"Listen my boy! You have to go alone! Ok? When you reach there, search for a person named Fateli. Remember that name, Fateli!"
Azren stared at him, breathing weakly as Moltur continued.
"Don't forget. And when you reach there, give this paper to her, alright?"
He shoved the folded paper into Azren's hands. Azren tucked it into his pocket.
"Ok but—"
Old man Moltur didn't let him finish. He lifted Azren up and placed him into the carriage where other travelers were sitting, startled by the sudden movement.
"Just go! And remember… Fateli. If you meet her, she'll make you feel better!"
Azren looked down at him, dazed.
"Ok… Mr Moltur… take care of yourself until I come back. And… thank you."
Old man Moltur managed a small, shaky smile.
"Yes… so make sure to come back, ok? I'll be waiting."
Then he grabbed his cloth bag of coins and threw it into the carriage.
"Take this money! It'll be useful there."
Azren caught it, stunned.
"What! This much—"
Before he could finish, the carriage lurched forward as the horse began walking.
Old man Moltur stood there, waving his hand.
Azren slowly lifted his own hand.
"Thank you… Mr Moltur… I'll be back soon."
As the carriage moved farther away, he leaned back slightly, feeling the coins' weight in his lap.
'What is happening… where am I going all of a sudden… I think I'm seriously sick? I don't know… but he looked so worried… and he even gave me his money… ahh man, I have to work even harder so I can pay him back.'
His thoughts grew softer as his eyes drooped.
'But I think… I should sleep… for now…'
His eyelids fell completely, and he drifted into sleep as the carriage rolled on.