The Scourge of Sweet Dreams

“What do you all think?”

“About what?”

“The new laws enacted by the newly appointed Count.”

“It’s surely just another ploy by the upper nobility to exploit us!”

“Yet, this time, it seems somewhat different?”

“What could possibly be different? Are you truly expecting the noble lords to consider our welfare?”

For the residents of the Lower City, their sole form of entertainment was drinking. Within this small tavern, where the air hung thick with the stench of sweat and cheap liquor, a cloaked young man quietly listened to the discussions around him.

Across from him, a mature woman, also draped in a dark cloak, observed the young man’s serene face, partially hidden by his hood, with her sapphire-blue eyes. She instinctively raised her cup for a sip, only to be quickly choked by the inferior wine within.

She swallowed the drink, enduring the unpleasant sensation on her tongue, then vigorously smacked her lips. Turning her hand, she picked up a potato pancake and took a bite.

The texture was crisp, yet the flavor was remarkably bland. It was evident that the tavern’s cook, constrained by the environment, couldn’t fully showcase their culinary skills.

Next, she gazed with surprise at the two young women beside her, who were eating with evident enjoyment. Especially the purple-haired girl, whose plate was already piled high with two small mountains of food.

“Hah, are you a pig?”

This was the Lower City, where order was a foreign concept. It was hardly surprising for a group of drunken men to act out in any manner they pleased.

A drunkard, clutching a wine bottle, stumbled over and slammed his palm onto their table. It was a gesture meant both to intimidate those seated there and to steady his swaying body.

His boisterous insults, however, did not elicit any resistance. The cloaked young man calmly placed a hundred-unit banknote on the table. “Bartender, the bill.”

But the drunkard had no intention of letting them off so easily; he lunged, seizing the young man’s hood. In the next instant, however, his arm was caught by the young man.

The drunkard was naturally enraged by this defiance. Yet, a moment later, a sickening ‘crack’ echoed from his arm, and he let out a piercing shriek of agony as his bone fractured.

The young man’s gaze remained indifferent as he observed the drunkard, whose face was contorted by excruciating pain. His eyes then shifted to the men at the drunkard’s table. Seeing their companion’s arm broken, they rose in a fury, dragging their chairs as they advanced.

The young man’s lips curled into a slight, mocking smile. “If you wish to fight, take it outside. Don’t disrupt the owner’s business.”

He released the drunkard’s arm, then turned and walked towards the door.

****

Ten minutes later.

In an alley, Reyn silently watched flames flicker from his fingertips. He then turned to the drunkards groaning on the ground and offered a faint smile to Louise, who had removed her hood. “You’ve worked hard.”

Louise flexed her wrist. As an enforcer who had long battled heretics, her physical training was no less rigorous than her magical studies. Dealing with a few armed drunkards was as simple as breathing.

She had taken the initiative to act, and it was only right that she was the one to engage them. Had they allowed the other two young women, or even Reyn Rheinhebo himself, to intervene, there was no telling what fate might have befallen these drunkards.

Reyn’s gaze returned to the prone drunkards. He spoke with a composed expression. “Have any of you ever used Sweet Dreams?”

Louise’s exceptional skill had sobered most of the drunkards, making them realize that this group was far from ordinary. Upon hearing Reyn’s question, the drunkard whose arm Reyn had first twisted nervously asked, “Should we say we have, or haven’t?”

Reyn raised an eyebrow, stating calmly, “Relax. Sweet Dreams is not prohibited in the Empire.”

The drunkard instinctively swallowed, then cautiously replied, “Sweet Dreams, you ask? Well… who in the Lower City hasn’t used it?”

Reyn’s brow furrowed. “Everyone in the Lower City has used Sweet Dreams?”

His displeasure caused the drunkard’s heart to sink, and he quickly added, “Anyone who’s worked for a few years will have used it.”

Reyn’s frown deepened. He understood precisely what kind of drug Sweet Dreams was, yet he had never imagined it would be so rampant in the Lower City.

Louise scoffed, “Fools, do you truly believe you can escape reality by hiding in dreams?”

The drunkard’s face twisted into a stiff smile, seemingly unwilling to offer a defense.

“Oh, esteemed Enforcer, not everyone is like that.”

The voice drifted from outside the alley. Louise spun her head sharply, her eyes fixed on the old man who had appeared at the alley’s entrance. He wore a grease-stained apron, appearing to be the tavern’s cook.

“You know me?”

“Every month I must go to the Upper City to purchase ingredients. I’ve had the fortune of seeing you a few times.”

Reyn suddenly interjected, “What did you mean by that just now?”

The old cook’s gaze settled on Reyn. After a brief silence, he responded in a low voice, “Are you aware of the painkillers currently circulating in the market? Their primary ingredient is identical to Sweet Dreams. In the Lower City, far too many people have developed a tolerance from excessive use of painkillers and are forced to turn to Sweet Dreams. Most of them then become addicted.”

Louise frowned, her tone chilling. “That is no excuse for your addiction to Sweet Dreams. The painkillers on the market meet all standards; used as directed, they leave no side effects. Everything is merely due to your own weak will!”

The old cook looked at Louise, then suddenly pointed to a drunkard on the ground. “His calf bone is fractured; he might not be able to walk normally for several months. Yet, he must go to the docks tomorrow to move cargo. It’s a job he fought hard to get, and his wife and three children depend on him to provide. So he cannot take leave, for there is no shortage of workers there. What, then, do you think he will do?”

Without waiting for Louise’s answer, the old cook spoke in the most matter-of-fact tone. “He’ll take painkillers, of course.”

Louise’s brow furrowed, and she sneered, “Ignorance! That will only worsen his injury!”

“Then he will take a larger dose of painkillers.”

“Painkillers are not a panacea! You ignorant fools! You should wait for your injuries to heal before working!”

“Wait for the injuries to heal? Who will treat him? The esteemed priests of the Holy Church?”

Louise’s face darkened, and she spoke coldly, “If he truly cared for his family, he wouldn’t be out drinking and brawling at night!”

The old cook’s lips twitched. “The others are his fellow workers. In the Lower City, everyone is weak. Precisely because of our weakness, we need to stick together. Only then can we survive the harsh winter. If he didn’t come to drink, if he didn’t fight alongside them, do you know what would happen to him? He would lose his few sources of support, and a person alone cannot survive in the Lower City.”

Louise indignantly retorted, “That is sophistry!”

Reyn suddenly let out a soft chuckle, speaking gently. “Indeed, it is sophistry.”

The old cook looked at Reyn. “In the eyes of a great person such as yourself, the lives of us small folk are naturally insignificant.”

Reyn chuckled again, shaking his head. “It has nothing to do with that. A wrong is a wrong. A person who cherishes their family should not commit such acts.”

The old cook’s lips twitched. “Then, what do you say he should do?”

Reyn raised his head, his voice low. “That is why I am here to correct it. Even if it means turning the entire Lower City upside down, I will absolutely not tolerate the existence of any such blight!”

The old cook watched the impassioned Reyn with a mocking gaze. “Is that so? Yet, the source of all this is none other than the Rheinhebo family. Do you truly have the power to oppose them?”