Chapter 5: Close Friends

Two days had passed since his return, and everyone in the household avoided Komer as if he were a plague. Sir Ramla Reser, the head of the family, merely gave him a cold glance before refusing to deal with this man who seemed to have nothing to do with his own wisdom. This guy only brought endless troubles and shame. The Reser family having such an anomaly was, in Sir Ramla Reser’s view, the result of improper timing, place, and circumstances for his physiological functions to manifest.

On the surface, Komer seemed unchanged from three years ago. In front of others, he still carried that lecherous and cynical demeanor. But only Komer himself knew that the original Komer had disappeared after being manipulated and abandoned three years ago, forced into exile. What remained was a man who, to survive, had had to wander across the continent like a stray dog for three years. That fate didn’t change until a year ago.

A year ago, Komer met someone who changed his life—a dying mage, an obscure mage, a dual-class mage rarely seen on the continent: a hidden dark mage skilled in necromancy yet deeply knowledgeable in light-based spells. The dying dark mage, upon seeing Komer, seemed to regain strength as if given a miracle cure, pouring all his life’s knowledge into Komer. Komer couldn’t understand why this mage, who had remained unknown on the continent, possessed such vast knowledge, yet seemed to have no reputation at all. After all, on this turbulent continent, it was easy for a mage to achieve wealth and glory—but Komer had never heard of this seemingly unremarkable mage before.

Just three months later, the mage passed away forever. He left peacefully, and even in that moment, Komer noticed a satisfied smile on his teacher’s lips. For the first time since forgetting what it felt like to be moved, Komer experienced true sorrow. At that moment, his dried-up tear glands even showed signs of revival.

The teacher had no extra words; aside from daily teaching, he hardly spoke anything else. He remained secretive about his own background and identity, but he spared no effort in imparting skills and knowledge. Yet, in just three short months, it felt as though Kemo had entered a whole new world. Everything became clear in his once dull mind—endless knowledge and principles flowed in like a gentle stream, making everything so logical. It turned out the world could function in this way too!

“To master one’s fate, one must first master power.” Reciting silently the teacher’s final words, Kemo gazed at the sky in stupor. These words seemed to hold profound meanings. Every time he pondered them, he discovered a new layer of significance. Master, fate, power—these three words, connected by just a few words, sparked endless fantasies in Kemo’s mind. What is fate? Whose fate—his own, his family’s, or even everyone’s? Power? What exactly is power? Magic or martial arts? Wisdom or experience? Wealth or power? Or perhaps all of these? To master it—how? By any means necessary or step by step? These questions, combined with the teacher’s bright eyes before he left, were like vines entwining around his heart, lingering and keeping Kemo in a state of restlessness.

“Young Master Kemo, the second young master of the Lux family and the third young master of the Modo family have come to see you.” Though surprised by the return of this second young master, who had remained silent ever since, Sanders didn’t think he had changed. It’s easy to change circumstances, but hard to change one’s nature. Besides, this second young master was born to a slave of even lower status than himself. Sanders never believed this guy carried much noble blood from the Lessor family. But such thoughts had to be buried deep in his heart; he dared not express them.

Glancing briefly at the butler who came to announce them, Kemo, who had spent three years traveling, had an exceptionally sharp sense. Especially recently, he noticed his sensitivity growing day by day, which both surprised and delighted him. He could clearly sense the contempt and disdain in the other person’s heart. He didn’t care. Perhaps the title of “the Three Wolves of Cyprus” had already made everyone despise them deeply. Whether within the family or among the townspeople, anyone who heard those names would cover their noses. If not for their noble status, they might have been torn apart and skinned by angry commoners.

“What’s meant to happen will happen sooner or later. Perhaps life is just a process, and perhaps truly understanding all its flavors is the true meaning of life.” Such strange words suddenly flashed through Comer’s mind. He was even surprised by why he often had such odd thoughts and phrases, and why he often had bizarre dreams at night—scenes that seemed both illusory and familiar, appearing in his dreams so that sometimes he couldn’t tell whether they were real or imaginary upon waking. His rapidly improving psychic abilities also surprised him greatly. Could it be related to that mysterious crystal he carried with him?

During those days on the ship, he felt he couldn’t sleep properly at all. Every night, one dream followed another until dawn when he woke up. Some said that once awake, the dreams would naturally disappear, and one wouldn’t be able to remember them, but for him, the dreams felt as vivid as if he had actually experienced them. Even now, those dream scenes remained crystal clear, leaving Comer utterly puzzled and even making him doubt if he was going crazy.

Thinking of this, Comer couldn’t help but touch the crystal that had always been by his side. But it seemed not the time to ponder this issue. He nodded silently, indicating he understood, said nothing more, and headed straight to his courtyard in the mansion.

Seeing Comer’s disappearing figure, Sanders couldn’t help but spit discreetly and put on a pretense of deep seriousness. Could such an act really cover up his despicable nature?

Even as he walked toward his own courtyard, Comer continued to think about his past three years. Three years—neither short nor long, yet seemed so distant to him. The reckless and indulgent life from three years ago still seemed to linger in his mind. Was it really that big of a deal to have slept with a few more women, drunk a little more, and gotten a little crazy? Such a thought suddenly popped into his mind, surprising him even himself. Though he said that, the consequences were very real. If not for that… he wouldn’t have been forced to flee his hometown.

Shaking his head and thinking of his two accomplices, Comer felt as if he had reverted to the unrestrained second son of the Reiser family from three years ago. A faint sinister smile slowly appeared on his lips.

The mountain-like young man with a horse face stood in sharp contrast to the pale, thin man, but upon seeing Komer at the entrance, both couldn’t help but show complex expressions—a mix of pain, humiliation, anger, and memories. Their eyes met, as if they understood each other’s thoughts, and a strange silence filled the room.

It was the young man with the horse face who rushed forward, punching Komer in the chest and roaring with laughter, “So you’ve finally come back! I thought you’d really been assassinated in some remote place and fed to wolves!”

The pale-faced young man also slowly stepped forward, looking solemn, “It’s good you’re back. It’s good you’re back.”

Seeing his best friend acting so cunning and gloomy, Komer couldn’t hold back and kicked him, “If I hadn’t come back, do you really think I’d have wandered outside forever? Three years—should be enough time for atonement, right? If you keep clinging to me like this, don’t blame me, Komer, for being unkind.”

“Kind? Kindness has nothing to do with you!” the young man with the horse face sneered. “If you were kind, Cyprus would have long sunk into the abyss to meet the Underworld King. But if you were a decent person, you’d have long disappeared from Cyprus, wouldn’t you, Pupber?”

“Enough of these depressing words. Our boss has just returned. Let’s all have some fun. After three years of hardship and wandering, he surely needs to relax a bit, right?” The pale-faced man remained calm, infuriating the young man with the horse face.

“Hmm, you’re right. It’s been three years since we last got together. I bet Cyprus has forgotten our names by now.” With a sigh, Komer’s mind wandered again, as if he’d suddenly returned to those absurd days three years ago—acting recklessly and facing the consequences. Yet he felt little regret. His reckless nature was part of his character; indulging himself allowed his confined mind to seek new thrills. He didn’t want to change much. The strange experiences from his three years in exile also taught him things he’d never learn otherwise, especially after meeting his mentor.

“Why did you choose this place?” Komer frowned, looking at the people coming and going around him, puzzled.

“Because it’s a place where no one will notice us. If someone recognizes the three of us, rumors will spread again tomorrow—something about three people getting together. That way, my and Eirwen’s chances of going out will be even slimmer.” He licked the harshly tasting tequila in his glass with a sense of helplessness. The scorching liquid ignited a burning sensation, bringing an indescribable pleasure. A blush spread across the pale young man’s face. He realized that these three years had changed his friend greatly. The once arrogant and unrestrained Komer seemed to have transformed into a mature and steady person, though occasionally, he could still spot the same defiance and provocation in his dark eyes as before.