Oren paused, his gaze scattered across the room in utter confusion. At the moment, he was unsure of where he was.
He had thought the door was an entrance to the gambling den.
But… this was just not a gambling den, was it.
He was standing inside a brick box where wood and paint had been stripped and splintered by years of decay, damp from unseen leaks.
Was I fooled… deceived, even.
Well, if he was deceived, he had done so himself, because this was most definitely not the place.
So... um, where is this Wine and Dine restaurant?
He looked around the small conservatory, then chuckled awkwardly.
Oh… no, he thought, frowning.
Finally noticing it, Oren sighed. In mere moments, his face turned a light pink.
Across the small space was a second door. It was the one which connected to the real establishment.
Where he stood right now was just a conservatory.
Embarrassed, he raised his hand to his head as he dragged his legs to the door.
Did anyone see that? My foolishness.
Luckily, he was alone, but if he was not...
Well, he did not know what he would have done.
Oren almost cursed himself.
Retracting his hand from his head, he placed it gently on the rusted handle of the conservatory door.
A faint warmth pressed through the clouded glass as he opened it and stepped through.
…
It was busy.
Each voice blended into a restless murmur as Oren tried to concentrate.
After he shut the door to the real entrance of Wine and Dine, the noises suddenly ceased, and all gazes averted to him for a brief moment.
Then, in less than an instant, the loud, peculiar noises of laughter and shouts continued.
Everyone within the residence resumed their indulgence, too intoxicated to care.
He looked at the floor, the faint patterns catching his attention, if only for a moment.
The carpet was red, flower symbols scattered across it in neat order.
As he stood quietly, a short girl eventually came to the door to see him.
The waiter greeted him.
She was small compared to Oren's tall stature, yet he would say she was above average for her height.
Her amber eyes shone with radiance. A long wooden flower pin held her black hair in a neat bun.
Elyra wore an apron over her dark grey work uniform, stitched with what appeared to be her name.
Elyra? Oren thought, staring at her mischievous smile as she spoke in a calm tone.
"Do you have a booking?"
Oren straightened his posture, then pondered for a moment before replying honestly.
"I do not have a reservation. Will that affect my meal tonight?"
Elyra shook her head.
"No, no, no. You will eat just fine. There will be no issues with your stay."
I would hope so…
Oren smiled and nodded, concentrating on Elyra rather than the room.
She turned around, a faint smile dancing across her face as she looked for a free table, then spoke.
"If you do not mind, follow me. I will take you to a free table."
As she walked away, Oren followed silently, looking around the room.
The table layout was basic, arranged in rows, while a few stalls sat to the side near a strange window.
Oren knew there was nothing behind the window, because what it showed was a field of verdure.
It was a strangely realistic painting, placed behind a sheet of glass.
Despite the haunting pictures and a few impolite stares, he remained composed, moving across the room, only stopping when Elyra did.
In the corner of the room, Oren was seated in a booth. The cushions were new, wool and cotton making them soft and comfortable.
Elyra left, informing Oren that if he needed anything, he was to call the nearest waiter.
His gaze crossed the rows of stalls to a man surrounded by a crowd of masked people.
A fragrance drifted from their area as Oren caught a glimpse of the various stews and wines on their wide table.
From that table, he heard a shout belonging to one of the elderly men.
"Twenty Mountain Yie if you can eat the buffet."
"Ten," another voice spoke.
As time passed, the number of Yie dropped to a stingy five.
Expressions of anger and confusion grew on their faces as the young man eating at the table suddenly stopped.
"Surely you can eat more," two men said simultaneously.
Oren grimaced, for in the next moment he saw the young man lean over and throw up.
Chewed meat and silver-filled stew erupted over the closest spectator.
Immediately, a small commotion grew as the young man was thrown out, and the men continued drinking their fine wine.
Oren's head twisted to the left.
He heard a rattling noise, familiar to a children's game, yet this was very much an adult one.
He would be worried if a mere child played this game of sin so casually.
He saw a die, numbered one to six, thrown onto a table.
The young man who threw it stood proudly behind the table, growing elated as he saw where it landed.
"Six."
The man shouted as another spoke.
"You have brilliant luck. You have won nearly every game, younger brother. Take a break. You might lose all your Mountain Yie."
Instead of listening to his older brother, the man shouted joyously, "Again."
Foolish, Oren thought, as the die rolled.
As it did, the man's body trembled.
The die slowly came to a halt.
Only then, when he saw the number it landed on, did he realise he had wasted his last chance to win big.
The die had landed on one, and his fate was sealed.
Sorrow seeped in as he regretfully threw a bag of his winnings onto the table. His tantrum drew a few glances.
Eventually, the crowd lost interest, and so did Oren as he pondered for a while, reminiscing slightly.
They are having fun despite mostly losing. It was the same with the outskirts men and women.
Losing in life, yet still smiling.
If he had done so, would he be here right now, thinking like this.
Will I even beat the Trial of Longing? Is seven days enough to succeed.
The information they had been given was vast, but impossibly vague.
Shaking his head, he dismissed the thoughts, allowing the many noises and smells to immerse him.
Unexpectedly, something else caught his attention.
His eyes widened and froze.
What was that. What is that…?
Oren closed his mouth, trying to relax his posture, but nothing he did could change the unease in his demeanour.
What he was looking at, he had never seen such a creature before. Its existence alone bewildered him.
His gaze landed on an oak table across the room, fixed on the peculiar creature resting there.
Judging by how casually the gamblers handled it, this was no rarity, at least not in this place.
The creature's body was small and round.
Four legs protruded from what looked like a stomach from afar.
Its form was made of metal, bolts, and wires.
Its miasma was palpable even from afar, and despite its metallic frame, it seemed like flesh, its eyes hidden behind bolts.
The gamblers were seated to Oren's right.
The only way to get a better look was to stand or sit at the edge of the comfortable wooden seats.
So instead, Oren steadily stood from the stall and walked closer to where the creature was perched.
He sat down at a nearby table, ignoring the seating arrangements Elyra had spoken of.
In doing so, he heard the ongoing conversation between two gentlemen.
"Absorb it. Hell, even store it, if you can find one that allows. Who knows, with these you can never be certain."
The man smiled, pressing his hand gently onto the table, then glanced around the room with a sigh.
"Before we speak real business, though, tell me. Can you even utilise the world's energy?"
The world energy?
Oren's mind went blank, failing to calculate why world energy would be connected to such a creature.
Is the world energy is connected to this thing, or is it not, he questioned, sitting in the booth behind the merchant.
Oren's gaze sharpened as he continued listening, his forehead creasing as his jaw softened, finding odd amusement in their unnatural conversation.
The buyer's reply was quiet, yet deceptive.
"This erol, it is common. They themselves are a rarity, but common among the rare are common nonetheless."
The buyer's gaze lowered, drifting amongst the endless cacophony of noises in Wine and Dine, waiting for a reply.
It is called an erol. Oren thought. Is it an animal, an insect, maybe.
The thought of how one could obtain one lingered in the back of his mind.
In the end, Oren let out a deep, thoughtful breath, looking toward the fake window.
The seller's voice suddenly rose, cutting through uncertainty like a blade slicing air.
"Hmmm, well."
He looked down at the palm-sized creature, then smiled with confidence.
"You can even pick a price. I will decide if my erol is of that worth or below. Remember, you can purchase this erol, or you can spend months searching for your own."
Oren's eyebrows furrowed.
A dozen minutes passed in an instant, and the gamblers before him reached a decision.
What Oren heard was little, not enough to satiate the questions in his mind.
Now, they were leaving.
He heard metal scrape as the seller lifted the palm-sized creature, the erol, from the table and placed it into a small charcoal grey cage.
Oren sighed as the two men exited the building.
Their transaction was successful.
Both the buyer and merchant had somewhat benefited in a way, but he could not be a fair judge since he did not know the value of such creatures.
Oren waited for the room to quiet a little. He caught the nearest waiter's attention.
His shout was polite, barely loud enough to be heard through the countless chatter of the drunken men and women.
"Excuse me, miss. I am preparing to order."
A small woman intervened instantly, weaving past tables to Oren with a proud smile.
Her amber eyes glistened, in the chandelier light.
It was Elyra.