The heavy wooden door eased shut behind Ethel, its iron latch clicking into place like the punctuation of a long, heavy sigh. Liam stood there, still half-wrapped in the warmth of Ethel's paternal concern, staring at the empty space the gate warden had occupied only seconds before.
For a moment, the inn was still. Then, the crackling of the hearth reclaimed its place in the silence.
"Come now, lad. You can't just stand there like a lamp-post," a woman's voice chimed in from behind the front desk, amused and warm. "Come here, I'll get you sorted."
Liam blinked and turned. Meera—round-faced, red-haired, and practically glowing with hospitable energy—beckoned him forward with a smile as wide as a festival moon.
He obeyed with cautious politeness. Years of performance taught him the choreography of strangers: a bowed head, light footfalls, the right blend of gratitude and humility.
"Room for two days," he said softly, slipping two silver coins onto the counter. "I… have to move on by the evening, the day after tomorrow."
Meera glanced at the coins, then at him. Her expression shifted briefly—not pity, but something near it. Then she beamed again.
"Call me Meera. Or Big Sis, if you like. Most do."
Liam hesitated. A faint flush brushed his pale cheeks.
"Big Sis, then," he murmured.
She grinned, visibly pleased.
"That's better. Now you get the Big Sis treatment. Extra bread, no charge. And maybe a boiled egg if you behave."
He almost chuckled. Almost.
Meera turned toward the staircase behind her and cupped her hands.
"Elli! Show our guest to the Cypress Room!"
Moments later, a small figure appeared at the top of the stairs. A girl of no more than eight, with chestnut curls and a playful brightness in her eyes. She waved as she descended.
"Hi! I'm Elli! Follow me, I'll take you to your room!"
Liam offered her a small nod, watching her bounce from step to step like joy given form.
They ascended a side hallway where stained-glass sconces flickered with gentle, ambient light. Elli stopped in front of a thick oak door with a curling brass handle.
"Here it is! The Cypress Room. It's got the warmest windows and the softest sheets!" she declared proudly.
The door creaked open, revealing a Victorian-style room bathed in twilight hues. An arched window let in the last embers of dusk. A carved wardrobe stood to one side, and a bed—canopied in faded silks—waited like a throne.
Liam stepped inside, surprised.
"This is… nice. Really nice."
Elli beamed. "Told you! Oh, and don't forget—dinner in half an hour! If you're late, Mom gives you the burnt crust."
"I'll remember," he said.
She gave a dramatic salute, giggled, and scampered off.
When her footsteps vanished down the stairs, Liam sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly beneath him, soft but firm, and warmer than expected. The silence wrapped around him again—no longer threatening, just thoughtful.
With a sigh, he opened his system interface.
[STATUS]
Name: Liam Ashborn
Age: 14
Grade: F-
Strength: F-
Intelligence: F
Constitution: F-
Dexterity: F
Magic: F
Defense: F-
Skill: [God-Given Luck: SSS]
Description: (Weaker than the maggots behind the stone in my garden.)
(Note:He can't fight. He can't act. But somehow, the world refuses to let him die.)
Liam stared at the description, blinking twice.
"That… feels personal."
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Can't act? Well, they weren't wrong, but still… no need to be so brutal.
As his eyes drifted to the corner of the interface, a soft golden icon pulsed gently.
[Special Travel Gift Package – Click to Open]
He tapped it.
Package Contents:
[Revolver: 1]
[Bullets: 12 (.357 Magnum)]
[Chocolate-Flavored Lollipop: ∞]
[Normal Dagger: 1]
[Steel Sword: 1]
Description: (God will not abandon those who seek help. But I will pity you for your current situation, and grant my pity.)
Liam blinked again.
"...What the hell is with this passive-aggressive narrative design?"
Still, his hands trembled slightly as he reached toward the air before him.
A soft ripple passed through reality. The revolver materialized in his palm.
Heavy, Cold, Well-maintained.
The polished barrel gleamed in the candlelight, and Liam found himself smiling despite everything.
Only 12 bullets. But in a world like this, that was 12 more chances than he had yesterday.
Then his eyes landed on the next item.
The lollipop.
He stared.
Took it.
Sniffed.
"Chocolate, huh."
He popped it into his mouth, letting the rich sweetness melt across his tongue.
It didn't taste like home.
But it almost made him believe the gods had a sense of humor.
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
One hand resting on the revolver.
The other twirling the lollipop in slow circles.
And for the first time since arriving in this twisted storybook world, Liam felt… not safe, but perhaps something softer:
A little less alone.
Half an hour later
The stillness of the inn was pierced by sound.
Knock. Knock.
No answer.
Knock. Knock.
Still silence.
Bang. Bang.
The blows echoed with just enough urgency to disturb whatever fragile cocoon sleep had built.
Liam stirred, breath shallow. A sheen of sweat glazed his brow. The ceiling above him swam with dancing shadows from the lantern's flicker.
Bang. Bang.
He sat up abruptly, pulse quickened, eyes flicking toward the door.
Dragging his feet across the floorboards, he opened it.
And there she stood—Elli, arms folded, her small mouth turned into a practiced frown that barely concealed her indignation.
"What are you doing?" she asked, the words punctuated with exaggerated emphasis. "Dinner started half an hour ago! You didn't come!"
Liam blinked, half dazed. The weight of sleep clung to him like fog.
"I… forgot," he said. "I fell asleep."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a lollipop—chocolate-flavored, wrapped in a glimmer of magic or design.
"A peace offering," he said, bowing slightly. "One should never offend a lady of the house."
Elli tried to maintain her pout. She really did. But the sweetness conquered her.
She snatched it, examined it with grave intensity, and then nodded. "Fine. But if you're late again, it'll cost you two."
"Deal," Liam said, smiling faintly.
The tavern's common hall buzzed with quiet conversation. Oil lamps swayed gently, casting golden hues across dark wood and dusty stone. The hearth's fire crackled with an ancient rhythm, as though singing a lullaby for wandering souls.
Meera spotted him instantly. Her hands were on her hips, her smile just shy of scolding.
"Well look who finally escaped his bed," she called. "I was about to send a rescue team."
Liam gave a theatrical bow. "Sleep laid siege to me. I surrendered."
She rolled her eyes and pointed him to a table. "Sit. Your stew's gone cold but it still bites."
A few minutes later, a steaming bowl of beef and root stew, two thick slices of dark bread, and two boiled eggs were placed before him. The aroma alone made his stomach groan in protest at the earlier delay.
He sat, spoon in hand, and tasted.
Warm. Hearty. Alive.
It was not gourmet—but it was carefully made, and that, in this strange new life, meant everything.
He chewed slowly, deliberately. Letting each bite remind him that he was not dead. That there were still things to taste. Still things to fight for.
"Room to your liking?" Meera asked as she approached, drying her hands on a faded cotton cloth.
Liam nodded. "It's… more than I deserve."
She arched an eyebrow. "Don't say that. Deserving's a coin no one knows how to weigh."
He gave a quiet laugh. "Then I'll just say thank you."
She leaned in slightly, examining him with curious eyes. "You talk like a scribe's apprentice or a noble's bastard."
Liam's lips twitched. "Bad habits."
"Hmph. I'll let it slide. But only because you eat like someone raised right."
They chatted a while—about stew, about inns, about weather patterns Liam pretended to recognize. Meera's laughter came easy, like someone who had seen storms but still built houses under the open sky.
Then came the whirlwind again.
Elli.
Bounding up with dramatic flair, she slid onto the bench beside him and stared with wide, mischievous eyes.
"Inspection," she declared.
Liam tilted his head. "Of?"
"Candy stock."
With solemnity fit for a priest, Liam reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out four more lollipops, setting them on the table like sacred offerings.
Elli gasped. "Four?! Are you trying to make me your servant forever?!"
"Just one for tonight," Liam warned. "If you eat all four now, your teeth will plot a rebellion."
"Okay!" she chirped, grabbing one and dashing away like a victorious bandit.
Meera laughed, eyes glinting. "She likes you."
"She likes candy," Liam replied.
"She likes you," Meera repeated, gentler now. "Not many folks give her reason to smile like that."
Liam looked down at his bowl, now empty.
"I think she reminds me of something I almost forgot."
The innkeeper nodded, and after a moment, left him to his thoughts.
---
Night fell deeper. The stars above Redfern Hollow blinked through drifting clouds, like forgotten eyes watching over a tired world.
Liam returned to the Cypress Room. The bed waited with quiet dignity.
He set the revolver back under the pillow.
The lollipops into a small leather pouch.
He lay down, eyes closing slowly.
The candle burned low.
Sleep came like the hush before prophecy.