Let's go back to a few months ago, to the cold night that sealed my fate.
It was just past midnight. I found myself in a seedy bar, surrounded by the remnants of dreams long dead. The patrons looked like they were waiting for the Grim Reaper to claim them, ending their misery finally. It was as though even death had forgotten them.
The air was thick with the scent of despair and cheap cigarettes. In the background, someone was quietly sobbing—perhaps over a broken heart, or maybe they had just come to grips with the harshness of reality. Poor souls. I could only hope they'd find peace on the other side. But tonight, death seemed to be keeping its distance.
I sipped from a glass of whiskey that had lost its bite. The ice had melted, diluting the once-strong liquor into a tasteless, watery mess. As I stared into the glass, my reflection stared back—a face once familiar with adventure now reduced to that of a nameless drifter. I had become a man who could only forget his past when he drank himself into oblivion in a dingy motel room, next to a prostitute so high she could have died at any moment. I envied anyone whose soul was leaving this world tonight.
Time had lost its grip on me. The tick-tock of the clock had faded into nothingness. I had no idea what hour it was; it no longer mattered. I was a walking corpse, a hollow shell of the man I once was. Tears welled up as I begged the heavens, the hells, anyone, to end my suffering.
"Poor soul lost and drowning in sorrow. May the ancient gods have mercy on you," a voice murmured behind me. I turned, curious to see who had spoken, wishing I could go back in time and warn myself to run. But instead, I asked the man, "Who are you?"
He wore a mask that covered his mouth—nothing like any design I'd seen before. Black and adorned with unfamiliar ornaments, it seemed like it was made of iron. It should have been suffocating, and heavy, but he spoke as if it were nothing.
"I'm just here to offer you a hand," he said, his voice robotic. "I can give you what you've longed for since childhood—a chance to reclaim the glory you once had, the admiration of everyone. But, of course, there's a price."
"Big words from someone hiding his face," I replied, my tone laced with skepticism. As I waited for his response, I sized him up—blonde hair, an expensive suit, a black shirt beneath a black blazer, black pants, and black gloves. He had the air of wealth. I wondered if he was trying to sell me something.
He pulled me from my thoughts with his reply. "I wear a mask because I prefer not to be seen. Think of me as a nobody, someone society forgets the moment they close their eyes. You may call me Mr. Nobody."
This guy was unhinged. Even without seeing his full face, I could tell he was smiling behind that mask. "What do you want from me, Mr. Nobody?" I asked, wary.
"Shall we talk outside?" he suggested.
"And why would I do that?" I shot back.
"We both know you have nothing else to lose. Am I wrong? The only thing you can lose right now is the thing making you suffer, your own live" His voice brimmed with a twisted kind of joy.
"Fine, let's go," I muttered, following him out of the bar and into a dark alley.
After a few tense moments, Mr. Nobody pulled a strange mirror from his back pocket. He called it the Mirror of Four Faces, and as I looked into it, I saw myself shrouded in a crimson aura. I was speechless, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. Then, Mr. Nobody began to explain.
He spoke of 'The Order of the Shining Stars,' 'The Four Primordial Planets,' and the Great Tree—a fantastical tale about golden keys scattered across the world. It all sounded like a fever dream. I thought about running, but something in his voice held me in place.
"So, tell me, young man, are you ready for the adventure?" Mr. Nobody asked, his voice almost daring me.
"Of course, I am," I heard myself say, though I couldn't recall making the decision. The next thing I knew, I was shaking hands with him...
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