An old but sturdy little carriage bumped along a muddy path leading toward the outskirts of the City of Glory.
Driving it was an old man with graying hair and a face carved deep with weather-worn wrinkles.
As he skillfully handled the reins to keep the carriage clear of the larger potholes in the road, he couldn't help turning around once more to look at his sole passenger sitting in the cab.
"Young man, let your old elder give you one last piece of advice. That place you're headed to... hasn't been peaceful at all lately. Even the City Guard has stepped up their patrols nearby. I can understand young folks looking for a bit of excitement... but there's really no need to run out to such a remote and dangerous place."
He paused, lowered his voice, and gave a secretive "I get you" look before offering an alternative:
"If you really want to have some fun, let me point you in the right direction. Head back to the city, to the back alleys of the slums right by the Old City Wall in the Lower District. There aren't many people there, and it's full of twists and turns, so you won't get caught."
"Besides, I heard from my granddaughter that the Gray Rat Gang that used to occupy that area was cleaned out by... err, some powerful person, so it's very safe now. I guarantee it's way better than running all the way out to a cemetery!"
Greg, who was resting his eyes inside the gently swaying cab, felt the corners of his mouth twitch uncontrollably when he heard this, his eyelids fluttering.
Wait... Old man, we're almost at my stop! How did you manage to floor the gas pedal into wild territory right at the finish line?
He opened his eyes, a look of helplessness filling his amber gaze as he tried to clarify one last time in an earnest tone:
"Um, sir, have you misunderstood something? I'm really going there to... take care of proper business. And besides, look, I'm all by myself—"
"Ayyy—!"
The driver dragged out his tone with an expression of complete enlightenment, waving his hand to interrupt Greg directly as he winked suggestively.
"I've lived more than half a lifetime—what haven't I seen? I get it, I get it! Rest assured, my lips are sealed. Once you step down, I'll forget everything. I'd never gossip to anyone."
He continued with complete conviction:
"You must have set up a secret rendezvous out in the middle of nowhere with some noble young lady from the city, or... ahem, some lonely noble lady, right?"
"Otherwise, why would a handsome young fellow like you, who looks like he stepped straight out of a painting, run all the way to a barren, haunted old cemetery all alone? It's not like you're going there to chant prayers for the undead, is it?"
"You're..."
Greg wanted to object, but the phrase "handsome young fellow who looks like he stepped straight out of a painting" precisely blocked all his subsequent arguments.
In the end, he could only let out a helpless sigh and change his tune:
"...Sir, you've completely seen through me. As expected, wisdom comes with age. I really can't hide anything from you."
"Right?!"
The old man immediately flashed a triumphant smile, looking as if he had won a major victory, his urge to talk growing even stronger.
While driving, he began instructing Greg in the tone of a seasoned veteran, his voice filled with nostalgia as if reminiscing about his own glory days:
"Young man, take a word of advice from an old-timer. When it comes to an elegant affair like a... well, a romantic meeting under the moonlight, especially when the other person's status is out of the ordinary, there are a few key points you must keep in mind. This is all experience talking—it'll save you a lot of trouble and let you enjoy yourself much more!"
At first, Greg just let it go in one ear and out the other, humoring him casually: "Mhm, mhm, go on."
"First, pick the right time and place. For a remote spot outside the city like this, it's best to choose between afternoon and dusk. There's still light so you can see the road and avoid wild dogs or beasts. By the time you two finish... well, conversing, it'll be just getting dark, making it easy to conceal your tracks on the way back."
"Second, make proper preparations. Bring some insect-repellent herbal powder—some places are crawling with bugs. A clean, thick oilcloth or blanket always comes in handy. You should also pack fresh water and some simple food. Who knows how long your 'heart-to-heart' will last? You don't want to be starved and thirsty halfway through, ruining the mood."
The old man spoke with practiced eloquence. As Greg listened, his initially nonchalant expression gradually became somewhat nuanced.
This old guy... actually seems to know his stuff?
"As for the third point..."
The old man's tone softened, carrying a touch of emotional sighing:
"Treat the young lady... or the noblewoman right. No matter what brought you two to this point, since you made the choice, try your best to make her feel this adventure was worth it. Be gentle and attentive; don't just focus on your own pleasure. Sometimes, a tiny bit of thoughtfulness can bring unexpected rewards and an escape route."
After saying this, the old man chuckled and slapped his thigh:
"Of course, these are all just foolish experiences from when I was young. Mentioning them now is just for laughs—don't you go learning bad habits!"
Greg went silent for a few seconds before speaking with genuine amazement:
"...Sir, isn't this... way too knowledgeable?!"
"Bah!"
The old man waved his hand, his wrinkles smoothing out as though recalling moments of bittersweet nostalgia. But he quickly reined it back, sighed, patted the old wooden plank beneath him, and returned to a plain, pragmatic tone:
"That's all just foolish nonsense from the past. Why bring it up? Nowadays, I'm just an ordinary old man trying to put food on the table. That sort of romance belongs to a past life."
Amidst the clatter of horse hooves and the crunching of wheels against the road, the carriage gradually slowed down.
Up ahead, the path came to an end, connecting to a wild field overgrown with waist-high withered grass.
Further out, a dense fog almost tangible as a solid wall blanketed the land. Even in the afternoon light, one couldn't make out the specifics within the mist, seeing only vague outlines of tilted headstones and withered trees.
A subtle, dreary scent of decaying vegetation had already begun to drift through the air.
"Whoa—"
The old man pulled on the reins, bringing the carriage to a steady stop.
He hopped down, walked to the side of the cab, and looked at Greg. The banter and teasing on his face vanished, replaced by genuine, unpretentious concern.
He pointed toward the thick fog:
"We're here, young man. Cross that wasteland up ahead, and you'll be at the outer edge of the old cemetery. The mist is spreading from inside."
He paused, looking at Greg earnestly:
"If you've changed your mind now and feel uneasy, or... if the person you were meeting didn't show up, I can turn right around and take you back. I won't charge you for this trip, because if not for you, I might have lost my life to those horse bandits earlier."
The old man's tone was deeply sincere.
Hearing this, a slightly awkward smile appeared on Greg's face.
He knew full well in his heart that if not for his own damned luck, the old man probably wouldn't have run into that gang of horse bandits today in the first place.
Furthermore, after chatting along the way, he could tell this old man was an honest person, likely far from wealthy, supporting his entire household just by driving this carriage.
He didn't want to take advantage of him.
Greg nimbly jumped off the carriage and adjusted his clothing and small bag.
Then, under the old man's puzzled gaze, he stepped up to him, fished a gold coin from his coin pouch that still gleamed enticingly even under the dim daylight, and pressed it firmly into the old man's calloused, cracked hands.
"Take it, sir. Thank you for the hard work."
Greg spoke nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just handed over a gold coin sufficient to sustain an ordinary family comfortably for a month or two, but merely a single copper coin.
The old man's hand shuddered violently, his eyes instantly widening as he stared blankly at the heavy gold coin in his palm, unable to believe his eyes.
He abruptly raised his head to look at Greg, his voice stuttering from excitement and disbelief:
"Y-Young man! You...! This won't do! It's too much! This trip is worth a few copper coins at most! T-This is a gold coin! I-I can't take this! And you saved me earlier..."
"Just take it."
Greg waved his hand, interrupting him:
"Consider part of this the fare, and the rest... tuition fees for the valuable experience you shared. It's worth every bit. Whatever is left is advance payment for hauling me back later and extra for your trouble waiting here for me."
"But... this is still way too much..."
The old man's hands were still trembling as he looked at the gold coin and then back at Greg, his eyes filled with inner turmoil.
A single gold coin was a major windfall for a family like his, capable of solving many immediate difficulties.
Yet he felt truly unworthy of accepting it.
Looking at the honest struggle of a working-class man in the old man's eyes, Greg softened his tone and said:
"Sir, please keep it with peace of mind. Since I gave it to you, it means this money isn't a significant sum to me—at least not as heavy as you think."
He paused, his eyes sweeping over the old man's faded collar and the small cloth bundle in the corner of the carriage containing stale black bread and half a flask of water. He added softly with quiet intent:
"Besides, didn't you say just now that you have a family to take care of?"
Those words were like a key, gently unlocking the final layer of hesitation in the old man's heart.
All refusal crumbled into powerlessness before the stark reality of life.
The old man's throat bobbed, his eyes welling up with warmth.
He no longer refused. Instead, he gripped the gold coin tightly, looked up at Greg, and bowed deeply to him, the most heartfelt emotion showing on his weather-beaten face:
"Young man... thank you! Truly... thank you! You're a good person, and good things will surely come to you!"
"Alright, alright, no need to be formal."
Unaccustomed to such emotional displays, Greg turned toward the wasteland and the thick mist, waving casually over his shoulder:
"Just wait for me here for a bit, sir. I work fast. If all goes smoothly, I should be back before dark. If... I don't return past the hour, don't keep waiting. Go back on your own—safety first."
"Don't worry, I'll be waiting right here! You be extra careful out there! That kind of thing isn't worth risking your life for!"
The old man shouted toward Greg's back.
Greg stumbled slightly, but he didn't turn back, merely raising a hand to signal he heard. His figure quickly vanished into the wild grass, heading into that dead, heavy fog.
The old man stood where he was, unmoving for a long time.
He looked down, checked the gold coin in his hand once more, and tucked it away against his chest with utmost care.
Then he raised his head, looking in the direction where Greg had disappeared, now obscured by wild grass and the encroaching dusk.
He pressed his palms together against his forehead, facing the ominous mist, and whispered a deeply devout prayer:
"Mother of the Profound Depths who walks in shadow, Goddess of the Quiet Night... please protect that kind young man."
Rate on N.U.
