Creak!
The bed's frame shook slightly at the sudden movement, followed by a deep yawn.
On the bed, Valentine turned his head and noticed a shadow falling down his face.
Well, that's new...
Val exhaled a heavy breath after waking up, noticing a thick box filled with various items on the nightstand next to him, exuding a strange smell that made his nose scrunch up.
The box, the size of his torso, was packed to the brim with all sorts of tools, ranging from simple pencils that stuck out at the top to books or even notepads filled with notes.
Drowsy, he rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the light of his lamp.
I mean... I did expect something.
But not to such an extent that it would take an entire wooden crate for it to barely fit.
Even the lamp and the cup of water that occupied the nightstand before were now placed on the floor, with the pill being neatly presented on an empty plate.
Lifting his head slightly, he tried to look at it from the side, but because his torso was still tightly wrapped in bandages and could move just barely and with some strain, he slumped back on the cozy pillow with a sigh.
How do I lift that thing?
It didn't look light at all since it was made out of wood, and the contents themself seemed pretty solid.
He didn't have some crazy strength that he would be able to lift it with one hand, and at an awkward angle at that, only being able to reach from underneath.
Maybe if I just...
He reached for the crate, grabbing its bottom corner with his fingers and pulling it towards him as carefully as he could.
Scrape!
His ears twitched.
Clenching his teeth, he pulled on it even harder, trying to ignore the irritating sound as much as he could.
The crate moved from the nightstand towards him very slowly, sliding off its surface halfway and balancing on the edge, almost above his head.
Pulling his arm back, he looked at the bottom of the crate, which was filled with countless openings in the shape of straight lines, and inserted his hand inside it, rummaging through its contents.
Surprisingly, the hole was just the right size for him to slide his hand inside and for nothing to fall out through its openings.
I'll just take some lighter things out and put the crate back.
Sunday can help me with the rest later.
After a few minutes of looting and straining...
Grind!
Ugh, I hate this.
Valentine furrowed his brows at the sound; his hearing became sharper thanks to Sunday, but adjusting to it was a hard task considering all he could hear every day was the white noise in his head and occasional visits from his saviour.
Even before ending up here, he was known for his exceptionally sharp senses by anyone he came across.
His sight was so sharp that he could read a sign from a couple of hundred meters away, prompting his peers to see him as a freak with eagle-like sight.
Hearing, vision, taste, smell, and touch.
All of it was as good as it could get, making him spend most of his life on edge.
Even the slightest sound made his head turn towards the direction, while eating itself became a problem whenever the taste was too strong.
It was also one of the reasons he was so wary of Sunday, since he, for some reason, could not be heard whenever he was out of his room.
It's always too quiet; I'm not sure if it's just me here or the two of us.
Murmuring under his nose, he twisted his arm.
The crate was pushed back into its place, not as perfectly balanced as before, but good enough not to fall from the nightstand on its own.
Good enough.
With a somewhat indifferent expression, he looked down at his chest, on which were placed a couple of items he managed to pull out through the tight opening.
Lying on his rock-hard bandages were a square metal lighter, a black pen with leaky ink, some pocket change, a strangely shaped metal object that weighed less than half a kilo, and a book with a ruined cover that was held together by a simple white string, though stained in mud around the corners.
He frowned.
What the hell is this trash?
He lifted the dark pen, inspecting it first.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
It looked expensive at first glance, with a long and polished barrel as well as some golden patterns engraved on it, depicting a sun and a moon on opposite sides; however, its tip, which was somewhat crooked, was leaking ink drop by drop onto his clean bandages.
Useless, why would I even have this?
Better yet, how did he afford such a thing?
Maybe something else.
His gaze settled on the square lighter, which was shining brightly under the faint hum of his lamp.
Fumbling with it in his hands for a while and getting a feel for it, his thumb settled on the top of the casing, which he opened up without much trouble.
"Hmm."
Humming to himself, he looked at the rusted flint and the spark wheel, which gave off a strange smell.
This doesn't look safe.
Thinking so, his thumb settled on the spark wheel, which, with little to no effort, created tiny sparks...
But that was it.
No fuel left? No wonder I kept this.
He smirked to himself as he put both the pen and the lighter right below his bed where they wouldn't stand out as much.
Now there was only the pocket change, a lump of metal, and the book.
With a greedy look in his eyes, he picked up the three round coins that were lying next to each other one by one. Their size around two centimeters in diameter, barely one-third of his index finger.
First was the least valuable-looking one, made of bronze and depicting a young woman staring into the endless sky, with long hair and a dark robe. Engraved above her head were some strange, rune-like letters and a number 357.
It was to be expected that it didn't look like any sort of currency at all, though; the design itself seemed far more different than the one he was accustomed to.
Putting it on the blanket, he took the silver and gold one, both of them the same as the bronze coin except for their weight and the woman.
On the silver one, she looked older, holding hands with someone outside, dressed in a simple summer dress with a crown of flowers on her head; she was looking down at her feet.
The gold one was of the sun stretching its light all across the coin's surface, leaving just enough space for the text and the number to circle around its edges.
It doesn't seem like I can use them anywhere, though selling them at the pawnshop could earn me something nice.
Even if it wasn't real currency, the value of gold and silver was quite high; despite having so little of it, he could afford some nice food and pay his monthly rent.
He decided to leave them for later, stashing all three coins under his pillow in case he would be able to sell them somewhere.
Without waiting, he picked up the metal object, holding it above his head.
I wonder what this thing is...!
"Ow!"
Flicking his wrist, the metal object clattered on the floor, ringing with a metallic sound that awoke Val's still sleepy mind.
Drip.
His eyes blinked rapidly as something dripped onto his nose, sliding down his lips; he tasted the metallic liquid. His finger was cut.
The hell?
Bringing his bleeding finger to his lips, his eyes turned towards the metal object shaped like a baton, with seemingly torn-off ends and a sharp tip holding onto a shiny stump, now with a streak of blood on it.
Why would I carry some sharp lump of metal?
Valentine thought as he tried to reach for it, but inevitably failed due to how far it landed, a couple of feet further than he could manage.
Whatever...
Sucking on his bleeding finger, he looked down at his bandaged chest, on which only an old book remained.
It didn't look particularly new or expensive, but its condition seemed good enough to use it.
Reaching for it, he brought the torn book closer, inspecting it with even more caution so as not to get cut or caught off guard by any hidden functions.
Thankfully, it was just a regular old book, with nothing special to it except for its cover, which was titled in similar symbols from the coins.
It looked like English but also not, maybe some strange mix?
Furrowing his brows, he leaned closer to the letters. Being worn down due to age, he could barely discern anything on the seemingly empty brownish cover.
However, Valentine could read it without a problem.
Even though there was barely anything left of it, there was still the faint outline in the middle of the cover.
Glimpsing the whole sentence, he read the name aloud, hoping to understand it.
"Saltatio Solis et Lunae."
As his words echoed across the empty room.
Snap!
!
The string holding it together.
Snapped faster than his eyes could perceive...