Chapter 2: The Merchant
In a barren land stretching endlessly, a faint cloud of dust crept slowly across the horizon. As it drew nearer, a luxurious carriage appeared, its sides lined with a gleaming golden trim. At the front sat two men: one clad in full armor, the other wrapped in a dark cloak that concealed his features.
Inside the carriage, a plump man sat beside the window, his brown eyes drifting as though chasing something hidden deep within. Opposite him, on the long seat, lay a motionless youth, his features blurred in the haze of unconsciousness—until his hands began to twitch. Suddenly, he jolted upright, gasping for breath, clutching his chest as sweat streamed down his face.
His wide, black eyes darted about in confusion, as if waking from a nightmare that clung to his soul. When they settled on the man before him, he saw a stout figure in brown garments lined with golden embroidery at the edges. His cheeks were puffed like a balloon, his short brown hair peeking out from beneath a small hat circled by a golden band to match his clothes. The plump man grinned warmly and spoke with cheer:
"Well, you're finally awake! … Judging by the way you jumped up, I'd say you've been through quite the ordeal."
The youth steadied his breathing, straightened himself, and spoke in a deep voice:
"Thank you for saving me… I owe you my life."
The fat man chuckled lightly.
"No need for thanks. Pure coincidence, really. You're lucky I stumbled across you lying in the sand before it swallowed you whole."
A faint smile crept across the youth's lips, his tension slowly easing. Silence lingered for a moment before the plump man tapped his belly and declared:
"You must be starving… let's call for food."
Without waiting for a reply, he raised his voice for the driver. The carriage came to a halt; footsteps shuffled outside until a knock echoed at the door.
"Your orders, sir?" the driver asked, bowing low.
"Bring the table and prepare the meal," his master commanded.
With practiced ease, the driver hurried to the rear, pulling out a wooden chest brimming with supplies: slabs of meat, fresh vegetables, polished cookware, and a wide wooden board with foldable legs crafted to fit snugly inside the carriage. In moments, he set it between the seats, laying down white clay cups, a napkin, a glass bottle of dark liquor, and a ceramic jug of chilled water.
Bowing again, he asked:
"Anything else, my lord?"
"That will do. Now go prepare the food," came the reply.
As the driver closed the door, the fat man gestured toward the table.
"Go on."
The youth snatched the jug in haste, drinking from it ravenously like a man who had not tasted water in days. Courtesy vanished; the world narrowed to the liquid pouring down his throat until not a drop remained. The fat man stared in surprise, though he quickly masked it with a forced smile. With a loud clatter, the jug landed back on the table. The youth bent forward briefly, then sat upright, awkwardness creeping onto his face beneath the man's gaze. Ruffling his messy hair, he laughed nervously.
"Sorry… I lost control. Thirst made me forget even the simplest manners, haha."
The plump man widened his grin.
"Think nothing of it… I understand your situation well."
Relief washed over the youth at his words. The merchant then reached for the bottle, poured himself a glass, and asked:
"So, what's your name?"
The youth passed him his cup, took a sip once it was filled, and answered calmly:
"I'm Nate… Nate Field, of the Field family."
The fat man froze, choking on his drink. He spat the mouthful out, hurriedly wiping his lips with a napkin. His voice trembled.
"A Field… I didn't expect—please forgive me if I've shown any disrespect!"
Nate smiled faintly, as though he had anticipated such fear. His tone was soothing.
"No need… Didn't I say you saved my life? That's all that matters. And you—who are you?"
The plump man hesitated, then folded his hands politely.
"I am David Stonebeck… nothing more than a humble merchant, on my way to your city for business."
For the first time since awakening, Nate felt at ease. His thoughts wandered briefly to his past life: years of hardship, endless exhaustion, and an early death before he ever tasted joy. Yet fate had granted him another chance, in a world where he belonged to a strong and wealthy family, a home filled with warmth, and siblings who cherished him. A small smile curved his lips as he mused inwardly: perhaps it's finally my turn to live with fortune.
He spoke firmly:
"Well then, David, since we share this road, drop the 'sir' and titles. You saved my life—enough to make you my brother from this moment."
David's face lit up, his words brimming with excitement.
"As you wish… Sir Nate!"
Nate narrowed his eyes coldly.
"Hm?"
David gave a nervous laugh, then burst out suddenly:
"Where's the food?! Sir Nate must be starving!"
This time Nate allowed a quiet laugh to escape. Soon the driver returned, announcing the meal was ready. At David's command, platters were brought forth—succulent meats, roasted vegetables, steaming broth.
"Please, eat to your heart's content," David declared.
Nate picked up the knife and fork, recalling faint fragments of etiquette embedded in the memory of his new body. He sliced carefully, then placed a morsel in his mouth. The rich flavor struck him so deeply a tear threatened to fall. He suppressed it and continued eating hungrily, while David laughed with delight.
"Eat as much as you wish—I never let a companion go hungry."
The carriage filled with the sounds of clinking cutlery, hearty chewing, and cheerful laughter. Soon the plates were wiped clean. Nate leaned back, patting his stomach with a satisfied sigh.
"Thank you, David… I've never tasted food like this before."
David roared with laughter.
"An appetite like yours is rarer than gold, my friend!"
He marveled at how quickly Nate had devoured the spread, while Nate simply smiled sheepishly. The driver was summoned to clear the table, and the carriage rolled onward.
Hours passed, filled with talk and laughter, until Nate's gaze was drawn to the window. His eyes widened in astonishment. David followed his look and explained:
"We're approaching the city."
But Nate muttered, bewildered:
"Strange… Weren't we in a barren wasteland just moments ago, under a merciless sun? How is it now a lush forest teeming with animals and grass?"
David smirked knowingly.
"They say a great battle once raged here, between the royal knight commander and a colossal dragon. The desert wasteland is but a scar left behind. But no one knows if the dragon ever existed… the commander never returned."
Raising his finger, his tone turned matter-of-fact.
"The truth? Beneath the earth lie veins of fiery mana, pouring heat that devours all life above. A logical explanation—nothing more. As for dragon tales… mere legends."
He sighed.
"Still, luck was on your side. Had beasts appeared before I found you, you wouldn't have lasted."
Nate pondered silently, then smiled inwardly: so this is mana—a force that conjures fire, ice, and water from nothing. I must learn it someday.
Aloud, he said:
"Fascinating… Thank you for the lesson, David."
"Always at your service, Nate," the merchant replied with a broad grin.
More hours slipped away until David leaned out the window, shouting with excitement:
"There it is—the city, just ahead!"
Nate leaned forward, his breath catching. Before him rose towering walls encircling a grand city, four colossal gates piercing its sides. Beyond stretched rich farmlands, crops swaying under the sun, while humble huts of straw and wood huddled at the outskirts, homes for those too poor to dwell within. Along the wall flowed a mighty river, carrying great ships unhindered, wooden bridges tethering it to houses along the bank.
The road to the gate swarmed with people and wagons, until David's carriage fell into line. Above the entrance hung a large sign, letters etched in ornate strokes: Midnight City.
Nate watched the guards at work—men armored in silver, helmets crowned with fluttering red ribbons. They forced drivers to dismount, inspecting goods carefully before seizing heavy purses of coin as entry tax.
When David's turn came, he handed his driver a letter sealed with wax.
"Give it to the guard… to whomever it's addressed."
Nate paid little mind, assuming it some note for a friend or partner. But when the guard read the name, his expression shifted instantly. With a snap of his hand, he ordered the gates opened—no inspection, no tax.
The carriage rolled forward. Nate passed through the gat
es of Midnight City for the very first time… unaware that what awaited inside would forever alter his destiny.