What Kind of Carriage Is This?

An old but sturdy carriage bumped along the muddy path leading to the outskirts of the City of Glory.

The driver was a white-haired man with a face etched with the deep lines of a life spent outdoors.

He skillfully handled the reins, guiding the carriage around the larger potholes while occasionally glancing back at his sole passenger in the cabin.

"Young man, I'll nag you one last time. That place you're heading to... things haven't been very peaceful there lately. The City Guard has even stepped up patrols nearby. I get that you're looking for a thrill—young people always are—but there's really no need to go somewhere so remote and dangerous."

He paused, lowering his voice slightly and putting on a knowing, mysterious expression as he offered an alternative.

"If you really want some excitement, I'll point you in the right direction. Go back to the city, to the back alleys of the slums near the base of the Old City Wall in the Lower District. There aren't many people there, and it's full of twists and turns, so you won't be easily spotted."

"Besides, I heard from my granddaughter that the Gray Rat Gang that used to haunt that area was... uh, cleared out by some powerful person. So it's very safe now. I guarantee it's better than trekking all the way to the cemetery!"

Greg sat in the gently swaying cabin, resting with his eyes closed. Hearing this, the corner of his mouth twitched, and his eyelids fluttered.

Wait... old man, I'm almost at my stop. How did you manage to take such a sharp turn into the fast lane at the very last second?

He opened his eyes, his amber gaze filled with helplessness. He tried one last time to clarify, his tone sincere.

"Um, sir, I think you've misunderstood something. I'm really going there for... official business. And as you can see, I'm alone—"

"Eh—!"

The driver immediately drew out the sound, a look of realization dawning on his face. He waved a hand, cutting Greg off and winking suggestively.

"I've lived most of my life, sir. What haven't I seen? I know, I know! Don't worry, my lips are sealed. Once you step off this carriage, I'll forget everything. I'm not one to gossip."

He continued with absolute certainty.

"You've definitely made an appointment for a secret tryst in that godforsaken place with some noble lady from the city, or... ahem, some lonely mistress, right?"

"Otherwise, why would a young man as handsome as if he'd walked straight out of a painting go all the way to that haunted, desolate Public Cemetery by himself? It's not like you're going there to offer deliverance to the spirits, are you?"

"You..."

Greg wanted to argue, but the phrase "as handsome as if he'd walked straight out of a painting" accurately blocked all his subsequent rebuttals.

In the end, he could only let out a helpless sigh and change his tune.

"...Sir, you saw right through me. The older the ginger, the sharper the spice; I really can't hide anything from you."

"Right?!"

The driver immediately broke into a triumphant smile, as if he had won some kind of victory, and his desire to talk grew even stronger.

As he drove, he began to offer Greg earnest advice from the perspective of a seasoned senior, his voice tinged with the nostalgia of someone recalling their own eventful youth.

"Young man, take it from me. When it comes to such... hm, romantic endeavors under the moonlight, especially when the other person's status is out of the ordinary, there are a few things you must keep in mind. This is all experience speaking—it'll save you a lot of trouble and bring you much more joy!"

At first, Greg just let the words go in one ear and out the other, responding casually. "Mm-hmm, please, go on."

"First, you have to pick the right time and place. For remote spots outside the city like this, it's best to aim for the window between late afternoon and dusk. It's still light enough to see the path and avoid wild dogs or beasts. By the time you've... well, finished your exchange, it'll be just dark enough to hide your tracks on the way back."

"Second, you have to be prepared. Bring some insect-repelling herb powder; some places are crawling with bugs. A clean, sturdy oilcloth or a blanket always comes in handy. You should also pack some fresh water and simple snacks. Who knows how long your 'heart-to-heart' will last? You don't want to be famished and parched when the time comes; it spoils the mood."

The old man spoke with great authority. As Greg listened, his initially indifferent expression gradually became quite subtle.

This old man... actually seems to know his stuff?

"Third..."

The driver's tone softened, carrying a hint of a sigh.

"Be good to the girl... or the lady. Regardless of the reason you've ended up here, since you've made the choice, try to make her feel that the adventure was worth it. Be gentle, be attentive. Don't just focus on your own pleasure. Sometimes, a tiny bit of consideration can earn you unexpected rewards and a safety net for the future."

Having finished his lecture, the old man chuckled and slapped his thigh.

"Of course, these are just the experiences of my wild youth. I'm just telling them for a bit of fun now. Don't you go picking up bad habits for real!"

Greg was silent for a few seconds before speaking with genuine amazement.

"...Sir, you... you know way too much!"

"Hah!"

The driver waved it off, the wrinkles on his face smoothing out as if he were remembering times filled with bittersweetness and nostalgia. But he quickly composed himself, let out a sigh, and patted the old wooden board beneath him, his tone returning to one of practical simplicity.

"Those were just foolish things from the past. No point bringing them up now. These days, I'm just an ordinary old man who needs to support his family. All those youthful romances belong to another life."

Amidst the rhythm of the horses' hooves and the sound of wheels rolling over the road, the carriage gradually slowed down.

Ahead, the path came to an end, connecting to a field of waist-high withered grass.

Further out, a dense, almost tangible mist shrouded the land like a wall. Even in the afternoon, it was impossible to see what lay within, save for the faint, distorted shadows of tombstones and withered trees.

The air began to carry a faint, dull scent of decaying vegetation.

"Whoa—"

The old man pulled on the reins, and the carriage came to a steady halt.

He jumped down and walked to the side of the cabin. The teasing and jesting had vanished from his face, replaced by a simple, honest concern.

He pointed toward the thick mist.

"We're here, young man. Cross that wasteland ahead, and you'll be at the edge of the Public Cemetery. The mist is drifting out from inside."

He paused, looking at Greg seriously.

"If you've changed your mind or feel uneasy... or if the person you're meeting doesn't show up? I can turn right around and take you back. I won't charge you for the trip, because if it weren't for you, I might have lost my life when I ran into those horse bandits earlier."

The old man's tone was very sincere.

Hearing this, a sheepish smile appeared on Greg's face.

He knew full well that if it weren't for his own damn misfortune, this old man likely wouldn't have encountered those bandits today at all.

Moreover, through their conversation along the way, he could tell that the old man was an honest soul. His family probably wasn't well-off, and he relied on this carriage to support them all.

Greg had no intention of taking advantage of him.

He hopped down from the carriage nimbly and straightened his clothes and his small travel bag.

Then, he walked up to the old man. Under the driver's confused gaze, Greg fished a gold coin from his pouch—one that still shimmered with an enticing luster even in the dimming light—and pressed it firmly into the old man's calloused, cracked hand.

"Take it, sir. Thank you for the hard work."

Greg's tone was casual, as if he weren't giving away a gold coin worth enough for a normal family to live comfortably for a month or two, but merely a copper bit.

The old man's hand trembled violently. His eyes widened instantly as he stared at the heavy gold coin in his palm, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

He snapped his head up to look at Greg, his voice stammering with excitement and disbelief.

"Y-Young man! This...! I can't accept this! It's too much! The fare for this trip is a few copper coins at most! This... this is a gold coin! I... I can't take it! And you already saved me before..."

"Just take it."

Greg waved his hand, cutting him off.

"Part of this is for the fare. Another part... consider it the tuition fee I'm paying. Those useful experiences you shared are worth the price. The rest is a prepayment for the ride back later, and a fee for your trouble in waiting for me for a bit."

"But... this is still far too much..."

The old man's hand was still shaking. He looked at the gold coin, then at Greg, his eyes filled with struggle.

A gold coin was a significant windfall for a family like his; it could solve many of their immediate hardships.

But he truly felt he hadn't earned it.

Noticing the honest struggle of a man from the working class, Greg softened his tone.

"Sir, please, just take it with a clear conscience. Since I'm giving it to you, it means this amount isn't much to me—at least, not as much as you think."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the old man's faded, well-worn collar and the small cloth bag in the corner of the carriage containing a hard piece of black bread and half a jug of water. He added softly with a meaningful look, "Besides, didn't you say you have a family to care for?"

Those words were like a key that gently unlocked the final hesitation in the old man's heart.

All his refusals rang hollow in the face of the harsh reality of life.

The old man's throat bobbed, and his eyes grew warm.

He stopped protesting and instead gripped the gold coin tightly. He looked up at Greg, his weathered face showing the most sincere expression as he bowed deeply.

"Young man... thank you! Truly... thank you! You're a good person; good karma will surely find you!"

"Alright, alright, no need for that."

Greg wasn't comfortable with such scenes. He turned toward the wasteland and the thick mist, waving a hand casually over his shoulder.

"Just wait here for a while, sir. I won't be long. If things go smoothly, I should be back before dark. If... if I'm not back by then, don't wait. Just head back on your own. Safety first."

"Don't you worry, I'll be right here waiting! You're the one who needs to be careful! That sort of thing isn't worth risking your life over!"

The old man shouted toward Greg's retreating back.

Greg stumbled for a moment but didn't look back. He simply raised a hand to signal he'd heard him, his figure quickly vanishing into the tall grass as he walked toward the deathly silent mist.

The old man stood there for a long time without moving.

He looked down at the gold coin in his hand once more, carefully tucking it away close to his body.

Then, he looked toward where Greg had disappeared, the view now obscured by the wild grass and the encroaching twilight.

He pressed his palms together against his forehead and, facing the mist that radiated an ominous aura, whispered a prayer with absolute devotion.

"O Mother of the Profound Depths who walks in the shadows, Goddess of the Quiet Night... please protect that kind young man."