Chapter 71: The Survivor's Curse
The air in the Night Orchid Restaurant was becoming thick, not just with the grey haze of cigarette smoke, but with the heavy, invisible weight of memories. Adam Lee leaned back in his chair, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the amber liquid in his glass. For a moment, the sounds of clinking bottles and Lira's drunken giggling faded away.
A vision washed over him, as vivid as a fresh wound.
He saw himself, years younger, sitting in this very same seat. But the Adam in the vision didn't have the scars or the cynical eyes. He was a "good boy," his hair cut short and neat, his uniform pressed perfectly. He didn't have a cigarette in his hand; instead, he was laughing over a glass of fruit juice. Across from him sat a younger Kimo, and beside them were six other Vaners—his first team. They were full of hope, talking about changing the world and reaching Level 1.
But as the vision flickered, those six faces began to blur and dissolve into shadows. One by one, they had fallen. Mission after mission, the laughter had turned into screams, and the juice had been replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol. Adam was the only one left. He had started smoking because the smoke filled the emptiness where his friends used to be. He started drinking because the burning in his throat was the only thing that could distract him from the burning in his heart.
Adam blinked, the vision snapping back to reality. He looked at Ren—so calm, so sober, so much like the boy Adam used to be.
"I was just like you once, Ren," Adam thought, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. He took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. "But time... time has a way of stripping everything away until there's nothing left but the habit."
He leaned toward Ren, his voice low. "Take it while you can, Ren. I have a feeling we aren't going to be together as a team for very long."
Ren frowned, his glass of water halfway to his lips. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Kimo, who had been listening while nursing his third beer, let out a hollow chuckle. "He means the math of this world, kid. Look around this table. In this business, eighty percent of us die in the field, torn apart by ferals or trapped in melting caves. Another ten percent? They can't handle the pressure. They either take their own lives or let the Vane corruption turn them into the very monsters we hunt. Only ten percent actually survive to see old age."
Kimo leaned in, his eyes bloodshot but piercing. "I've trained over forty students in my life, Ren. To me, you've always been temporary tools. Gears in a machine that eventually wear out and break. I never wanted to get attached because I knew, eventually, I'd be the one standing at your funerals."
He paused, taking a long swig of beer. "But looking at you four today... I feel like I've fallen into a trap. I'm actually starting to care about whether you make it back or not."
Mika, her face flushed red from the beer, slumped over the table and let out a loud, slurred laugh. "Haa! Look at Kimo-sir... the beer is finally talking! He's getting all soft on us. Are you even in your senses, sir?"
Kimo smirked, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm more in my senses than you are, girl. You can barely keep your head off the table."
Ren watched them, his mind racing. Everyone here is drowning in their own way, he thought. They drink to forget the eighty percent. They smoke to forget the ten percent. I'm the only one actually seeing the truth.
Lira, swaying slightly in her seat, slid her chair closer to Ren. She smelled of hops and cheap perfume. She leaned in, her eyes heavy and suggestive. "Hey, Ren... if you drink just one big glass of this beer... just one... I'll take you back to my room. We can have our own little 'private' celebration. What do you say?"
Ren didn't even blink. He didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on the far wall. "I have zero interest in your room, Lira. Or your beer."
"Oh, come on!" Lira pouted, tugging at his sleeve. "Don't be such a statue!"
Mika, suddenly sitting up, glared at Lira. "Back off, Lira! You're too drunk. Ren is coming with me... he's much safer with a 'responsible' drunk like me."
Adam laughed, shaking his head. "Ren, don't mind them. This is their daily routine once the third glass hits. They'll forget all about it by tomorrow morning."
The bell above the restaurant door chimed, and the heavy oak door swung open. A group of four young Vaners stepped inside—two girls and two boys. They looked tired, their gear dusty from a long trek. Without a word, they grabbed chairs from a nearby table and dragged them over to Kimo's group, sitting down with the familiarity of old friends.
"Waiter!" one of the new girls shouted, slamming her hand on the table. "Four beers! And bring the spicy chicken! We're starving!"
Ren looked at Kimo, his eyebrows raised. "Who are these people?"
"Students of an old friend," Kimo said, his voice dropping an octave. "Their mentor was part of my original squad. He died three months ago on a Rank 5 mission. These kids have been drifting ever since. We look out for each other here."
The atmosphere shifted. The arrival of the newcomers brought a fresh wave of rowdy energy. One of the new girls, sitting directly across from Ren, looked at him with curiosity. "Is this the new guy everyone's talking about? The 'Golden Boy' with the revolver?"
Ren sighed internally. I really shouldn't have come here.
Kimo, sensing the competitive tension in the air, suddenly stood up, his beer glass held high. "Listen up! Since we're all here, I'm throwing down a challenge! A classic Vaner's Duel!"
The table went silent, everyone's eyes locking onto Kimo.
"Twenty Golden Coins," Kimo announced, his voice booming through the restaurant. "Twenty coins to whoever can outdrink me tonight. Last person sitting upright wins the pot. Who's in?"
"I'm in!" Lira screamed, raising her glass.
"Count me in too!" Mika added, her competitiveness overriding her fatigue.
"I could use the gold," Adam muttered, stubbing out his cigarette.
The four newcomers shouted their agreement in unison, their eyes gleaming with the prospect of the reward.
Kimo grinned, a predatory light in his eyes. "Waiter! Forget the small glasses! Bring ten large pitchers of the strongest beer you have! Let's see who actually belongs in that ten percent!"
Ren sat back, watching the chaos unfold. The restaurant was about to become a battlefield of a different kind. He looked at the golden coin in his pocket—the one he had saved for Hana—and realized that while these people fought to forget their reality, he had to stay sober to survive it.