A chorus of voices filled the tavern.

Sitting in a corner close to the tavern's windows, Joseph wondered where these men had learned such a song. It was a beautiful poem about a lonely boy who was raised to control the lighthouse of a small town. On a New Year's Eve like this one, he descended into the town, met a girl, and his life changed forever.

Is this a popular song? But where is it from?

There was no one for him to ask as he was alone at his table.

It was the first New Year's Eve since he moved from his homeland in Cornwall, England, to study Medicine and Natural Science at the Saint Legions School University in the Czech region of Bohemia.

It was also the first New Year's Eve after the “scandal” - the shame of his family, according to his father and his older brother. The lad shook his head, trying to brush away all the pain and embarrassment that the incident still caused in his heart, even months later.

What a lucky bastard he was for getting a table close to both a torch and the fireplace on a white winter night like this!

The tavern, which was owned by Mrs. Novákova, had a cuckoo clock that marked 9:34 p.m.

Joseph knew that by now, back at home, his mom would already be serving peas and rice; nuts and almond sweets; and her amazing Stargazy Pie. His mouth suddenly began to water at the sensorial thought of his mother's food. This diminished Joseph's appetite for Mrs. Novákova's cooking. The remorse came right after, bursting the bubble of his thoughts about his family.

"I... I'm a bit short of money this month, Mrs. Novakóva. I'll stick with just the beer."

"It's on the house, precious child! You're always here, Joseph, and you're such a good doctor, even though you’re only 17! Your parents must be so proud of you! Please, celebrate with us tonight!" she said, squishing his cheeks as if he were a small, abandoned child. She had a corpulent and mature, yet beautiful figure, and strong hands whose touch made Joseph feel understood in a rural land that was particularly avoidant of foreigners.

The tavern, after the church, is the social heart of every rural town, and being friends with its owner means being friends with all the customers. Soon, Joseph was known as the young english doctor, studying to obtain his diploma; people would come to him for small and moderate treatments, both injuries and accidents. This was how he was able to cover his tuition fees after his father suspended payments during Joseph's second month of studies.

I basically owe everything to Mrs. Novákova… Joseph thought.

She offered everything in such good will. And it was good, too. Two spicy sausages, smashed potatoes, sardines, and some peas and sliced carrots with tartar sauce.

He ate slowly, savouring it. Then he allowed himself to be lulled by the men's songs. The orange lights of the torches and the fireplace painted his corner with hope for a better tomorrow.

It was New Year's Eve!

A shadow of nostalgia caught him, piercing his chest like the northern winter wind. Was his mother missing him? His father? His brothers and his young sister?

I miss them so much.

So many letters he had sent...but no answer. Was it possible that none of them had actually arrived in England? It was the only explanation. His family would get back to him as soon as possible.

Right?

It was just a matter of time until they forgot what had happened... They were his family after all, and time could heal anything.

I begged for forgiveness so many times...

Surely his father sent him to study abroad only to mature, become a man, and experience life, just until the town forgot about that “ugly” incident...

I shall go back in triumph, as a doctor, with my diploma to show and many adventures to tell.

The letters sent with no answer were probably because his family were too busy, and his younger siblings were too young to write properly. His father probably didn't send any money yet because business was a bit slow due to winter.

It's alright. I have no reason to worry.

The clinging of people's cups as they toasted brought Joseph back to the present moment.

Vente com nosotros,

Y no mires atrás,

estamos juntos hasta el fin.

Somos lo que hacemos,

No pidas perdón,

Que el Viento sople a tu favor.

Somos de la piel del diablo, el horror,

Y de esqueleto fue mi amor,

Que te sea propicio,

La Suerte e el Amor,

Que el Viento sople a tu favor. **

The men laughed, wishing themselves a happy 1769. They were merchants, sailors, freemasons, and artists from everywhere in Europe and beyond. But they had two things in common: no home and no shame in having a good time.

Joseph stared out the window. There were the faint lights of fireworks, far beyond the trees, perhaps at the Magistrate's house. They made a distant, timid rumble, with colors of lavender and turquoise. The clock said it wasn't even 23:00; these fireworks were just a rehearsal for when midnight arrived.

I should just enjoy the night and let myself relax. I'll save up some money and go home for summer break.  I'm only 17.  One New Year's Eve away from home isn't the end of the world.

Joseph turned his gaze away from the window, preparing to stand up and take his dishes to Mrs. Novákova.

He jumped from his chair and let it fall with a heavy crash.

There was a ghost by his side.

"I ap-apologise...if I startled you, sir," the ghost said.

Well...not a ghost, at second glance. But given the wretched state of his clothes, he could easily pass for one.

"It's alright. I'm sorry for...my reaction." Joseph awkwardly put his chair back at the table.

The stranger was a tall young man, a stout grey figure dressed in a fur cloak. Under the hood, Joseph could distinguish a dark caramel skin tone, amber eyes staring cautiously into his, and long curly hair, as dark as the wings of a raven. He was not much older than Joseph himself.

His countenance was like a spoonful of honey in Joseph's eyes. What a warm contrast with those grey clothes! And with this grey winter night...and the dark clouds in Joseph's heart.

He was reaching towards a chair at Joseph's table with a shy, trembling hand, staring at the young doctor with imploring eyes.

"M-May I sit here?"

"Yes, of course."

Joseph sat down again. The night was over for him, but it seemed too rude to abandon the table when a newcomer had just asked to share it.

The young man kept staring at him warily, sitting down right after the doctor. Then, he pulled his hood back.

Joseph couldn't believe what he saw.

His golden eyes and warm skin tone... His gold earrings...

He was the Sun embodied as a young man, arriving in the middle of the winter to assure Joseph that, no matter what, spring would always come.

Joseph lowered his head to stare at his empty dish, hiding a trace of blush. It was rather impolite to ogle someone like that. Especially a man.

He was big. What if he got angry? The last thing Joseph needed that night was a quarrel about him staring intimately at another man. He had already escaped a similar situation in his hometown, and lost the good graces of his family as a result. No need to make it happen again.

His thoughts were cut off by the screech of a chair sliding against the floor.

"Ugh... Ah..."

Joseph instinctively raised his eyes when the other boy moaned. It was a painful moaning. He saw the other boy sitting in front of him, panting miserably, his front soaked in sweat. And that beautiful golden tone to his skin gave way to a deleterious, ocre one. The stranger wiped his sweat with a shaky hand.

"Are you alright?" Joseph began to stand, but the young man raised his hand, asking him to stay in his place. He remained silent, avoiding the young doctor's gaze, but Joseph knew where the problem was. His eyes went from the young man’s face to his torso.

Disturbed, but not surprised, he saw the young man’s other hand bathed in blood, pressing against an angry scarlet wound close to his diaphragm.

He’s been shot!