He had only lied, knowing how quickly rumors spread.
The possibility that the academy could hear of this event made even Oren question what he would do.
Oren looked down at the stew, then back at the three men. Eventually, his gaze drifted to the growing crowd.
Each of the brothers' faces was filled with joy and happiness. Maybe it was Oren's words.
Perhaps they had heard a joke.
But Oren knew that for the three men before him, all it took was a drink to feel connected, to convince themselves a bond had formed.
Oren, on the other hand, could never build a connection in such a hollow way.
He leaned forward subconsciously, raising the spoon to his mouth, as another man whispered a bet into the crowd.
"I will give you seven Mountain Yie if you finish everything within one hour, but I bet you will not even finish your stew."
Oren ignored the second remark with a smirk, but hearing the mention of time made him freeze temporarily.
One hour. How long have I been here?
He looked across the room, passed the table and chairs, to the clock that towered at the top of the central wall.
In one hour, it would be midnight, but the curfew was also midnight.
He would have to eat the buffet, then make his way back to the academy before midnight.
Will I be late?
Oren glanced at the food, then smiled and nodded at the man.
No. Eating all of this will be easy. I will just have to eat faster.
Oren continued eating hastily and dismissed the growing tightness in his stomach as the brothers spoke.
"Xeyren. What an interesting name."
"Yes, I have never heard it before. I like it. Your parents have good taste," Liran agreed.
They all liked it, unaware it was an alias.
Oren froze on purpose, his smile draining from his face.
Liran was the first to notice, then Hemel.
Lastly was Varos.
They asked in unison, wearing worried expressions. Even Varos seemed concerned.
Those who heard Oren's next words fell silent, guilt filling the air.
"Well, it is that," Oren sighed, then clenched the spoon in his hand.
"Parents. You are mistaken. I do not have a mother or father, nor anyone who holds such a title in one's life."
Oren's eyes stilled as he reminisced.
"Nonetheless, I once had a family. A beautiful one."
The noise of the residence dimmed, as if the past itself muffled the world.
He had said it for sympathy, but it worked too well.
It was true. He did not have parents. Not because Oren was abandoned or unwanted, but because not all beings were born with such.
And he was one of them.
His thoughts faded as more people gathered around them.
Each individual was intrigued by the new top bet and what the gamblers had earned.
He had earned a staggering eighteen Yie.
Oren set aside the final Bloodfire Wine, saving it for last, and moved on to the three mushroom stews.
Oren glanced toward Liran and Hemel as they lingered at the edge of the table, murmuring about stepping away.
As expected, they smiled at Oren and Varos and got down from the table.
Since the crowd was enclosed around Oren's table, they found it difficult to leave.
But eventually, they did.
Their footsteps faded into the crowd, leaving behind a hollow silence.
Without them, Varos seemed thinner, less certain.
The silence stretched.
At that instant, Oren sensed the invisible burden pressing relentlessly on the man.
Varos glanced at Oren, then looked away, making sure that Hemel and Liran had really left.
A wistful sigh escaped his pale lips.
"Well. Since we are already speaking of things that weigh the spirit down, I would like to tell you something."
He glanced away, hesitant to speak, then spoke softly.
"Xeyren. We are strangers. Perhaps that is why I can say this." Varos paused, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
Oren froze, deciding not to speak until he heard the drunk man out.
"Even my brothers do not yet know. When I pass, that will remain the same. They will think it was simply time that took me."
He muttered under short breath, "as they should."
Pass?
"Pass away?" Oren's eyes widened slowly.
Varos opened his mouth, closed it, then forced the words out, his light tone betraying the harshness of the conversation.
"Ahgg. You are wise for a youth, Xeyren. You are correct, but there is more to it than that, because one does not simply pass away. Well, in my case it is as sudden and simple as they come."
Oren's eyes darkened as Varos inhaled slowly.
"I do not know how or why, nor where it came from. Only that some inexplicable illness has come over me."
His gaze drifted to the laughter around them, to the warmth of the people and movement.
Something he would soon cease to have.
"I am going to die."
After saying those words, aloud, the unyielding smile on Varos face, finally faded.
Oren shivered. Not in fear, but in the fearsome resolve Varos radiated.
Nonetheless, regret and sadness crept into his voice. Varos suddenly felt as though a vine of thorns had wrapped around his throat.
"But perhaps that is not a bad thing. You know, Xeyren, they say that when one dies, they are laid to rest. So, in a way… this will be my peace... to think that, for once, my end will be my serenity."
Oren's thoughts wandered.
I know I should not have heard this. This is not meant for me.
So why am I listening?
This confession was meant for Liran and Hemel, they needed to hear this, but Oren did not care if they did or not.
But it was precisely because he did not care.
That was why Varos told him, rather than his own brothers.
Oren forced his teeth together.
A dim smile formed across his face.
"Varos. I am sorry."
"Sorry?" Varos let out a sharp, incredulous breath.
"Why are you sorry? Did you give me this illness? Are you the thing that will separate me and my brothers? Me and everything I cherish?"
"Are you the reason I will die?"
Varos stared into the depths of Oren's abyss-golden eyes as he shook his head in disagreement.
It was as though a weight that had piled upon his mind over many years had lifted, and Oren had been there at the perfect time to listen.
"You see. So do not be sorry. When I die, you will not even know. Remember, that is why I am telling you, and that is why i can rest in peace."
"Anyways," he said, the bitterness clear in his grin.
"Since I am quite the handsome man, perhaps they will call me Sleeping Beauty. Because I am charming, am I not?"
Varos released a dry, amused breath, but his facade had already faded.
Why is he acting as though his death is a game, as though it does not matter?
But recalling his previous words and looking into the trembling eyes of the drunken gambler, he knew that was false.
Varos cared.
Because Oren dismissed the man's illness too and shared in the moment with him.
"No, no, no! It is more fitting they call you the drunken gambler."
Hearing Oren's unbothered yet sympathetic words, Varos broke into quiet, shaking breaths, wiping away the tears he had only just noticed rolling down his cheeks.
For some inexplicable reason, no one in the crowd noticed.
Some were minding their own business, but mainly because no one could hear.
Varos spoke, his light blue eyes shimmering beneath the teardrops.
"That would be nice. I feel much better now."
Oren replied instantly.
"That is good. I guess that is what I will call you from now on."
Varos exhaled again, awkwardly.
"Yes. I am the drunken gambler. Now let us drink, for tonight will be one of my final nights."
Varos pulled his glass to his lips, downing it. Oren nodded and raised his voice above the crowd.
"Let us drink!"
Gently tossing a wine bottle into the crowd, Oren smiled and continued eating amid the noise.
By the time Liran and Hemel returned, there was an unsettling relief in the air.
Oren had devoured the last mushroom stew and moved to the lotus seed soups.
"I will be finished within twenty minutes."
As the crowd cheered, his stomach strained.
Can I do this?
Is it too much?
Oren shook his head.
Twenty-one Mountain Yie. That was enough. In under ten minutes, two soups were gone, and Oren was onto the last.
"Nine."
The number landed heavier than the last. The bets rose again.
Oren finished the Bloodfire Wine, smiling.
Liran smiled at Varos, but what he said made Varos eyes dim.
"Have you heard, brother? Within months, the traveling group will roam the city."
Travelers?
Varos quickly replied.
"I would hope so. But do not assume, we were mere youth when they came, it has been a long time since then."
"Also," Varos added, "They did not come last year."
Hemel, spoke up, "Well it is true what they say. That travelers are always two steps ahead. Maybe even three."
Surprising the crowd, after fifteen minutes, the last spoonful of stew rose to his mouth.
He swallowed, then stood from his seat. He felt sick despite having loved the food, just the thought of eating more made his stomach churn.
Something Oren thought he would never feel.
After letting out a deep exhausted breath, Oren shouted.
"I am finished."
To think eating so tiring.
Surprising Oren yet again. The crowd erupted.
"How did junior eat so much?"
"He really did it."
They watched in awe, then, as though the event meant nothing now that it was over, they left.
The entire crowd dispersed as quickly as it had gathered and all it had took was fifteen minutes.
Only Liran, Hemel, and Varos remained, sitting on the stools, half asleep.
Oren smiled softly, glancing at what he had earned. They were laid out on the tray.
Looking down at the receipt a new waiter had given him, Oren read.
Final bid. Thirty-three Yie.
The cut. Thirty-five percent.
That meant he gained seven Mountain Yie and five Mineral Yie.
He was left with twelve Mountain Yie and five Mineral Yie total.
Including his other Yie from the academy, he would have seventeen Mountain Yie and five Mineral Yie.
Oren's smile dimmed.
Looking at the three now passed out men, he spoke quietly.
"Well. It was nice meeting you."
Liran's eyes jolted open, as though he had been dragged from a nightmare far too late in his life.
The other two remained asleep.
Before he could doze off again in his awkward, uncomfortable position, one that would most definitely leave his back aching the next day, Oren spoke, waking him fully.
"Make sure you get them home safe. I hope to see you three again. Next time, however, we will drink while gazing into the vast, starry night sky."
Liran nodded, rubbing his eyes as Varos snored beside him.
"I hope so too."
Getting down from the table, Oren waved once at Hemel, Liran and Varos.
Then left the establishment and stepped into the quiet night.
After gambling, after visiting the main street. After meeting the brothers and elyra. One question Orens mind it was the Trial of Longing.