“Haa… Haa… Haa…”

Ulrich arched his back, and sweat ran down his body. The white cloth clung to his torso, while the light white sheet covered his legs.

His bed was in the right corner; on the left, two wooden shutters let the sunlight filter through. A vivid yellow that brought warmth to the room and illuminated the desk in front of it.

The desk had a pile of sheets of paper, with a pale inkwell to its left. On the chair tucked beneath it lay a damaged black outfit.

Ulrich, trembling, fixed his gaze on both of his hands. His mind, harassed by murmurs, made his breath heavier.

‘Where am I?’

Ulrich blinked a couple of times before analyzing the room. Thoughts of the night before came into his mind.

‘So it wasn’t a dream… Damn it, I had to walk back all the way.’

He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. Then, he pulled the sheet away from his legs, leaving the comfort of his bed.

After a couple of barefoot steps across the cold wooden floor, Ulrich noticed the quill dripping ink onto the papers, staining the bottom of the page.

“Come on…”

Ulrich picked up the quill and placed it on the inkwell. Then, he walked towards the door in the middle of the wall and opened it.

A small corridor led to another door on the left and a small kitchen on the right, where a stone sink was filled with wooden utensils.

Opening the door, Ulrich found himself in the bathroom. Its walls were lined with white tiles, and a mirror hung above the washstand. Ulrich turned the tap to his right, letting out a weak trickle of water.

Cupping his hands, Ulrich waited for them to fill before splashing the water onto his face.

‘Everything is set so that tomorrow I finally escape this lie.’

He then filled his mouth and gargled. Finally saw his face in the mirror and lightly rubbed his face before leaving.

Walking towards the end of the corridor, Ulrich took off his sweaty shirt, leaving his torso bare, marked by scars and a dark, thorny branch extending from his hip to his collarbone.

Ulrich picked up the black cloak that hung in the right corner and put it on.

Taking a last deep breath, Ulrich opened the door; the sunlight impacted his eyes, making him close them.

After a couple of seconds, he opened them, a smile lightly escaping his lips.

‘You don't appreciate something until you lose it… It seems it’s true.’

In front of him, dozens of people walked to the right, talking anxiously.

Ulrich grabbed his temple, which throbbed with constant pain, and then closed the door behind him while, with his left hand, he put on his hood.

After a few steps, Ulrich mingled with the crowd, who were all wearing the same cloak despite the heat.

In the sky, a cloud of smoke marred its clarity. As Ulrich approached it, the scent of burning wood made him sneeze.

‘So they’ve decided to burn it…’

Ulrich thought as the crowd began to swell.

“You have burned the bodies of our relatives and our homes! Where do you expect us to live now!?”

“Curse the nobility whom snatched the medicine away from us! May the Sacred Sun punish your unholy actions!”

Ulrich stopped his walk, listening to the protest, and observing how the Imperial Guard, who were blocking the way to the Bermith District, would respond to such words.

“Tomorrow it will be a glorious day!” A man from the Imperial Guard interrupted, “We promise to fix everything after tomorrow, but we, the people of Rosan, do not need a dispute between us.”

The crowd listened with doubt in their eyes.

The man’s messy brown hair shone under the sunlight, while his dark eyes looked at the crowd with resolution.

He wore a tight-fitting reddish armor and a white cape decorated with golden roses, which lightly touched the floor.

Behind him, flames devoured everything in their path, with a crackling sound that echoed off the wood.

After a couple of seconds, he continued:

“I know we are in tough times, which is more reason to support each other.” His expression lightened. “A creature slaughtered your family… our people, but we can’t know whether those bodies are safe or infected. Sorry.”

Silence followed his words.

‘You did well, Richard. They'll have enough doubts now not to do anything stupid, but…’

Ulrich smiled, taking some air.

“Always with the same empty promises!” Ulrich shouted, “We’ve been suffering for months, but we should expect your help now?”

Those words were enough to fuel public discontent.

‘I would have liked to see the district… but I guess it’s not the right time.’

Ulrich turned around, his gaze taking in the people’s expressions. Hatred and madness appeared on their faces; some of them grabbed their own faces or hair.

Thousands of black silhouettes clung to their bodies; the unpleasant, long, and smoky fingers controlled their movements.

‘We’re even humans anymore?’

Ulrich lowered his gaze.

‘…I should go to the temple…’

                                                                  ***

A carriage advanced through the countless people who complained outside.

On the inside, a man with messy brown hair that lay over his merciful green eyes.

‘I don’t know exactly why, but you somehow managed to turn the people against the nobility.’

Valerian tightened his jaw.

‘You’ve changed a lot since that day… Ulrich.’

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

‘Is that really the freedom you want?’

“Priest Valerian, are you sure we can reassure them?” a man with a black beard asked, his voice deep.

“Of course, Sir Hovinser.” Valerian nodded slightly. “However, if you are reluctant, there will be no way out of this situation.” He fixed his gaze on the man.

The man looked in silence at the priest, his black eyes showing no shine.

“I see…” The man sighed. “It seems that imprisoning Josh is the only solution, but how?”

Valerian smiled. “I’m sure Sir Hovinser already knows the answer.”

“You overestimate me, dear Valerian.” The man smiled back.

“If that’s the case.” Valerian lowered his head. “I have a check of Josh buying a high quantity of medicine, you know where I’m going, right?”

The carriage stopped, their gazes parted as the door opened.

“Let's hope everything goes according to plan… Priest Valerian,” the man said as he got out of the carriage.

Valerian followed him with his gaze before letting out a sigh.

‘You were painfully right, Ulrich.’

Valerian stepped out, his feet landing on a white floor. He turned his head to the left, a marble structure supported by dozens of columns, each one adorned with roses.

People with an elegant bearing entered the place, their steps hurried.

Valerian gazed at the sun, squinting against the glare.

‘When will this end?’