Chapter 149: The Abandoned House
“Traveler, are you weary? Would you like to rest here for a while?” The blind Toven smiled, his empty eye sockets wrinkling. “Don’t you think the scenery is beautiful?”
Wade silently observed Toven. The man hadn’t changed at all, remaining exactly as Wade remembered him. Short black hair, arms so thin the bone joints were visible, sunken eyes, and that unchanging smile. No matter when they met, Toven always wore that smile, tapping his cane as he walked.
His speech remained leisurely too, his face bearing no wrinkles as if untouched by time. During Wade’s days as a baker, he would occasionally sit beside Toven, sharing tea together. Toven never complained about anything, always softly asking Wade to describe the scenery outside. Wade would recount what he saw, verbally illustrating the picture books he’d drawn.
Their friendship was quiet – no passionate embraces or drunken late nights, no deep philosophical discussions. Just two people sitting together, sharing the day’s events. When Wade fell ill, he bid farewell to everyone he knew. Stopping payment on the bakery’s rent, his goodbye to Toven came on a sunny morning. Wade’s parting gift was a bag of freshly baked cookies. After their initial “hello,” they ended with “goodbye.”
Wade never expected to reunite with Toven by a stream in the Opal Forest. Even less did he anticipate that after twelve years, Toven wouldn’t have aged a day. His first reaction wasn’t questioning why, but rather a quiet sense of relief. Seeing an old friend unchanged brought Wade comfort.
Though never particularly curious about Toven’s origins, Wade remembered countless sunny afternoons spent chatting together. He approached the small wooden house where an unused stool waited.
“Traveler, the road ahead is long. Rest awhile,” Toven said. A blind man and a mute shared a strange understanding.
Wade sat beside Toven. A gentle breeze rustled the dense leaves as sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows under the eaves. The clear stream murmured nearby, the peaceful setting inviting an afternoon nap. Opal was called a fairytale land, and the scenery proved this no exaggeration.
Yet its greatest flaw was its very perfection – such fertile royal lands bred rare and powerful monsters. Snakes and spiders were commonplace here. In Opal’s forests, one could easily find magic spiders the size of washbasins, alongside frequent poisonous snakes and frogs. The mountains housed land dragons and giant bears. Beautiful, yes, but in nature, greater beauty often concealed greater danger.
Like venomous creatures adorning themselves in bright colors, warning observers to keep their distance. Countless adventurers’ bones lay buried beneath these seemingly tranquil woods. Many entered seeking rare herbs or magical beasts, only to never emerge again.
The Adventurers Guild rated Opal Forest as extremely dangerous, recommending only Silver-rank or higher adventurers enter, preferably with a local gnome guide from Opal’s guild. How then did blind Toven live here alone?
Wade glanced at the small house behind them, its open door revealing sparse furnishings – just a simple bed and wooden table.
“Traveler, I love beautiful scenery,” Toven smiled. “I find this world lovely. Do you like it too?”
Wade couldn’t answer – a mute has no voice. But he asked himself: did he like this world? Memories from the past year surfaced.
Ugei living happily with family under red rooftops. Traveling merchants inviting him to shelter from rain in their wagons. Farmers gratefully offering eggs and fish from their meager stores after he eliminated monsters. The little ghost giggling by flowers. The elf who long ago freed him, treated his wounds, and brought clean clothes. All the people from his eight years in Helburg, the migrants he’d traveled with in Tania.
He’d encountered unpleasant things, certainly. But when asked if he liked this world, only warmth came to mind. Yes, he decided, he probably did like this world.
Toven smiled brightly. “My friend, I’m glad you like this world. Please use your eyes to see its beauty for me.” Suddenly, Toven changed his address – no longer calling Wade “traveler.” Through the mask, he seemed to recognize Wade.
Studying Toven’s sunken eyes, Wade had a sudden realization. The Crimson Scholars – those who traded body parts to perform true “magic.” Was Toven one of them?
Wade stood abruptly. For a year, he’d searched for Crimson Scholars with only the gnome’s scant information. Now one possibly stood before him – an old acquaintance at that. Had he unknowingly interacted with a Crimson Scholar so long ago?
Toven had always been just a frail blind man needing a cane to walk. Could his current condition be Toven’s doing? Questions flooded Wade’s mind, but as he looked beside the other stool, a chill ran down his spine.
Toven was gone. Only a spiderweb-covered stool remained. Wade’s own seat was equally draped in webs and dust. The house behind him stood in ruins – roof eroded by rain, covered in moss, wooden panels torn away by wind, interior filthy with mud and moss, corners thick with cobwebs.
This was no inhabited home, but an abandoned house left to decay for years.