I grabbed the old man's frail body and carried him. He was strangely light. I took him to the public crematorium on the outskirts of the poor district, the place where all the forgotten souls go. This is the end for the poor in Chang'an. No grave, no memory, just ashes that mix with the ashes of the city. At least he didn't die alone... .

  I returned to the hut. I closed the door behind me and felt the silence close in on me. I looked around at the old wooden walls, at the simple bed, and at the rusty sword that was now mine. "It seems I've used up all my luck in this moment," I said sarcastically, my voice echoing in the emptiness.

  When I returned, I felt something strange. The smell of old wood, the way the light fell from the window... everything was painfully familiar. Then I looked out the window. I saw the same corner, the same view overlooking the darkness of the Forest of Chains.

  The truth hit me like a slap in the face. This... this was Aline's hut. The place she would escape to. The place where she would sit and look at her distant dream. The cynical world hadn't just given me a shelter; it had thrown me into the grave of my dream.

  I found some food, enough for a few days, but there was no money. I had to find a job. For days, I wandered again. The same rejection, the same looks, the same word "Prometheus" that followed me like a curse. Until I found a man, the owner of a filthy tavern on the main road called "The Sleeping Dragon," who looked at me with a cold assessment. "You'll work double the hours," he said. "And you'll take half the pay. Deal?" "Deal," I said quickly, not believing I had finally found a job.

  My life became a new routine. I would wake up before dawn and go to the tavern to wash the previous night's dishes and mop the sticky floors. And I would stay until midnight, serving drunks and cleaning up their messes. I was the hardest worker in the place, but I didn't care. I had a shelter, a job, and food. That's all that matters for survival.

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  In that tavern, my ears picked up stories. Stories from travelers, merchants, and sailors. Stories about cities of ice in the north, about deserts of glass in the south, and about a whole continent floating in the sky. Little by little, a small seed began to grow inside me. A seed that Aline had once planted, and now, the stories of these strangers were watering it. I became a dreamer like her. I wanted to see everything. To travel across all the continents, and to write down everything I saw.

  More than half a year passed. I turned eighteen. I was working like a machine, never making a mistake. But the bitter reality, as Aline had said, always hit me like a wall.

  One day, I was carrying a stack of dishes, and my foot slipped on a patch of spilled wine. The dishes shattered on the floor with a loud crash. It was the first mistake I had made. The manager was furious. He grabbed me by my shirt and yelled in my face in front of everyone. "I wish I had never hired you, you damned Prometheus! You're a bad omen!" He insulted me, cursed me, and then fired me.

  Why does the world hate me so much? Why am I so hated? It's impossible for the hatred of the whole world to be concentrated on one person like this. Impossible.

  That day, I didn't go back to the hut. I went to another tavern, one I hadn't worked in, a filthier, more miserable hole. With all the little money I had, I bought wine. I drank until I could no longer see clearly. I drank until the pain became just a distant hum. And in the midst of the noise of the drunks, I stood on a wobbly table and screamed my only dream, not to them, but to myself. "I... I will travel across all the continents... I will discover this entire world!"

  My voice was low, as if I were convincing myself before anyone else. "I will write down everything about the cities and the creatures... and I will carry these dreams beyond the edge where my life stands. Remember my name, people of Chang'an, my name is Hong Min... a name born from the womb of dreams."

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