Chapter 5: Close Friends

Returned for two days, everyone in the mansion seemed to avoid Komer as if he were a plague, including Count Ramla Reese, who only met him with cold indifference once and had no further desire to deal with this man who seemed to have nothing to do with his own brilliant mind.

The only thing this man brought to him was endless trouble and disgrace; it was an aberration for the Reese Family to have such an outlier, which Count Ramla Reese always believed was due to his physiological functions erupting at the most inappropriate time, place, and environment.

On the surface, Komer did not seem to have changed in the three years. In front of others, he was still the same lecherous and flippant figure, but only Komer himself knew that the original Komer ceased to exist after being toyed with and abandoned, forced into exile. The remaining Komer had been a man who, for survival, had to wander the Continent like a lost dog for the past three years, scavenging for sustenance. This fate only changed a year ago.

A year before, Komer had met someone who would alter the course of his life, a dying magician, an unknown and quietly impressive dual-class magician, a master of Necromancy—the Recessive Dark Mage—who also had a profound understanding of Light series magic.

The moment he saw Komer, the dying Dark Mage seemed to have taken an elixir that rekindled a final surge of vitality, pouring his life's knowledge into Komer, leaving him unable to understand why this seemingly unremarkable mage on the Continent possessed such vast and endless knowledge, yet remained without name or fame.

It was known that on this restless Continent, becoming a magician was a way to attain wealth and honor with relative ease, but Komer had never heard of this inconspicuous magician before.

Merely three months later, the magician had permanently departed from this world. He was at peace when he left, and even in his final instant, Komer noticed the satisfied smile on his teacher's face, which taught Komer, who had forgotten the feeling of being moved, what true sadness was. In that moment, his long-dead tear glands even showed signs of reviving.

The teacher didn't have many words to spare; apart from daily teachings, he hardly spoke of anything else, shrouding his own origins and identity in deep secrecy. Yet, he spared no effort in imparting skills and knowledge.

However, this lasted only a short three months. For Komer, it felt like another lifetime. With a single breakthrough, the fount of knowledge and principles suddenly became clear in his dull mind, flowing gently like a stream through the fields of his heart. Everything felt so complete—so the world could operate in this manner!

"To master fate, one must first master power," Komer whispered to himself as he looked blankly at the sky, repeating his teacher's final words.

These words seemed to carry a profound meaning—every time he pondered them, he discovered a flavor distinct from the last. Mastery, fate, power, just a few linking words between these three concepts opened up endless fantasies for Komer.

What is fate? Whose fate is it? Is it mine or the family's, or is it everyone's?

Power? What is power? Is it magic or martial arts? Wisdom or experience? Wealth or authority? Or is it a combination of these?

Mastery? How does one master? By any means necessary, or gradually and methodically?

All these questions, tangled with the bright eyes of his teacher before his departure, wrapped around Komer's heart like vines, inescapable, leaving him in a state of constant restlessness.

"Master Komer, the Second Young Master from Lux's house and the Third Young Master from the Modo's house are here to see you." Though Sanders was internally surprised by the Second Young Master's silence since his return, he did not believe Komer had turned over a new leaf. People could change their ways, but not their nature, especially not the Second Young Master, a lowborn even lower than himself.

He never considered that this man possessed much of the noble Reese Family bloodline. Yet, such thoughts could only be buried deep within the Depths of the Mind, not daring to be expressed.

Glancing indifferently at the steward who came with the message, Komer, who had wandered and traveled for three years, had an exceptionally keen Spiritual Sense, especially as he recently noticed it was improving daily, to his astonishment and delight.

He could clearly feel the steward's deep contempt and disdain, but he did not care. Perhaps the title of the "Three Wolves of Cyprus" had already made them universally despised, whether within the family or among the city's common people. Mentioning these three names was enough to make anyone turn up their nose; had it not been for the halo of their noble status, maybe being dismembered and skinned by the angry commoners would have been their fate.

"What's coming will come eventually. Maybe life is a process, and perhaps savoring this process is the true essence of life," Komer suddenly thought with a strange phrase flashing through his mind.

Even he himself found it odd how such bizarre thoughts and statements frequently came to him or the strange dreams he often had at night—dreams of obscure yet seemingly familiar landscapes that appeared continuously, blurring the line between reality and illusion upon waking. The rapid enhancement of his Spiritual Sense left him with mixed feelings of surprise and joy—could it be related to the strange crystal stone he carried with him?

During those days on the ship, he barely slept well, always dreaming one dream after another, which lasted until he awoke at dawn.

Some say that once you wake up, dreams naturally dissipate, never to recall what was in them again; yet my own dreams felt vivid as if I experienced them firsthand. Even now, those scenes in the dreams remain vivid, which left Komer puzzled and even doubting whether there might be something wrong with his psyche.

At this thought, Komer couldn't help but touch the crystal stone always close to his side. But now didn't seem to be the time to ponder this issue; he simply nodded silently to indicate he understood, and said no more superfluous words, heading straight towards his small courtyard in the mansion.

Seeing Komer's fading figure, Sanders couldn't help but secretly spit, adopting a depth of character that belied his appearance. Could such a facade really cover what was dubious behind it?

Even on his way to his own small courtyard, Komer still reflected on the past events from three years ago. Three years, neither short nor long, but they seemed so distant to him. The reckless and extravagant life of three years past seemed still to linger in his heart. Was it really such a big deal to play with a few women and have a few more drinks?

An unexpected thought suddenly popped into his mind, surprising even Komer himself. Although he said this, the consequences were indeed real. If it weren't for... he wouldn't have been forced to flee from home and become a fugitive.

Shaking his head, the image of two troubled friends surfaced, and Komer felt as if he had transformed back into the uninhibited Second Young Master of the Reese Family, a subtle, cold smile slowly rising on his lips.

The majestic, horse-faced youth and the pale, gaunt man created a striking contrast, but upon seeing Komer at the gate, both showed a complex expression on their faces—it was a mix of pain, humiliation, agitation, and recollection.

As their gazes met, it seemed they all understood each other's thoughts, and a strange silence filled the room.

It was the horse-faced youth who charged over and punched Komer in the chest, bursting into laughter with a bellow, "Kid, you've finally returned. I thought for sure you'd been assassinated and left for the wolves in some desolate place."

The pale-faced young man also stepped forward slowly, somberly expressing, "It's good you're back, good you're back."

Seeing his dear friend put on such a seasoned, gloomy front, Komer couldn't help but kick him, "If I hadn't returned, did you really think I'd wander forever? It's been three years; isn't that enough penance? If you keep harping on it, don't blame me, Komer, for not being nice."

"Nice? Since when have you ever been associated with being nice?" the horse-faced youth sneered. "If you were nice, Cyprus City would probably have sunk into the Nether Sea to meet Hades by now. But then again, if someone was truly nice, they probably should have disappeared from Cyprus City a long time ago. Right, Puber?"

"Enough of this downhearted talk. The boss just got back. Let's the three of us have a good time. I bet the boss, after three years of hardship and wandering, needs a good break too, right?" The pale youth maintained his unhurried demeanor, much to the horse-faced youth's irritation.

"Yeah, you're right. We three haven't gathered together for three years. I suspect Cyprus might have even forgotten our three people's big names," Komer remarked with a hint of sentimentality, sighing, as if suddenly transported back to the indulgent days of three years prior.

Wild and presumptuous, resulting in dire consequences; yet Komer felt little regret within. To act wilfully was in his nature, an intentional indulgence to bring new stimuli to his restrained spirit.

He didn't want to change himself too much, and the strange experiences of three years on the run had taught him things he might never have learned otherwise. Especially meeting his mentor.

"Why choose here?" Komer asked with a frown as he observed people coming and going, baffled.

"Because this place doesn't draw attention. If someone recognizes the three of us, I'm afraid the rumors will be everywhere by tomorrow. 'The notorious three spotted together,' making it even harder for me and Ilot to get out."

With a touch of resignation, the pale youth licked the piercing tequila in his glass; the scorching liquid burned its way down, igniting flames, unspeakably exhilarating, bringing a flush to his face.

He noticed that these three years seemed to have changed his friend a lot. The once arrogant and unrestrained Komer seemed to have become a different person, mature and stable, but occasionally from his dark eyes, you could find a defiance and provocation that was unchanged from three years ago.