Casual Heroing

There’s a charm in chaos that is difficult to explain. Have you ever considered how much we are attracted to things that are unhealthy for us? Certain foods, relationships, friendships, jobs, people. I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if some screws in my head are simply missing, and some parts are not doing their job correctly. I mean, it’s a possibility, isn’t it? It would be quite preposterous to think that every single one of our instincts is right, no?

Sure, it’s one thing to think about something like this and one thing to act on it. Shallow wisdom is the kind when people who like to judge and wave their fingers in front of others’ noses act like idiots five minutes later. Me? I think I’m coherent. I’m not waving fingers unless it’s food related.

Why am I thinking about this? Well, Liogi made me think. His proposal makes sense. Talking, that is. Why not? I’m not sure that looking at my thoughts alone would be for the best. A second pair of eyes would do me good, wouldn’t it?

As I sip a mix of coffee and stamina potion, I look at the building I walked up to. It makes me a bit angry, to be honest. What makes me angry? Not the fact that I’m in front of the Baguetterie. Not that. It makes me angry that I’m honest, and people take issue with that. Look, no one is perfect, right? But why do people always act like they are? [Archmages], other [Professors]…

Do I act like that? It’s a question I always ask myself. Do I actually behave holier-than-thou as some other people do? See, I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t think I say I’m better than others, nor do I judge others—not judging as much as others do. Some judging is inevitable, of course.

After knowing Liogi and Ariostus, I wonder why more people aren’t like them. Sure, they are not perfect. But at least they are not outright pieces of crap. They are people I could have a real conversation with, not some idiotic puppets who try to puppeteer others as well.

Think about it for a second. Marcus, the mighty [Archmage] who was not even a nail of Lord Juler, tried to control people, have them do his bidding. A big bad dragon – in lowercase because fuck dragons – who needs to create trouble for me. I even proposed to exchange knowledge with that piece of crap.

For a second, I feel like murder.

It’s a random burst of rage, as I remember what happened not even a few months ago. The people cheering for my defeat, the ones booing me after I heroed my way through impossible deathmatches.

It may sound silly, but it would be damn nice if people considered what I went through for once. At the same time, I don’t want people to pity me. Is it that difficult? Probably. I just don’t feel like having to act like I’m all depressed to get some kindness. But maybe this is the syndrome of the kid who wants too much; you know how you take some children to the rides, and they will still cry because they can’t go on that one specific ride? I don’t know. Ariostus and Liogi were super nice. The others are nice as well. Not perfect, but nice enough. That’s a starting point, and it’s good enough for me.

I just feel this anger, this random burning sensation that flares up from time to time. I wish Lord Juler were still with me, honestly. I don’t know how much of my breakdown is because I don’t have him with me anymore. I feel a tear in the corner of my eye, but I catch it with my fingertip.

It’s hard admitting some stuff. That was a bad period in my life, something that I would really like to avoid repeating. Bad shit, honestly. And the truth is that I miss Lord Juler’s advice. The guy is nuts, but he knows how to get around, how to guide. Am I looking for a father figure?

I smack my lips.

You know what, I’ll leave the psychologizing to Liogi.

I enter the almost deserted place.

I look at the counter, and I find a half-giant with a white baking uniform instead of Cassandre.

“Yo, wassup,” I smile at the guy who just stares at me.

“What will you order, sir?”

“No orders, thanks. Is Cassandre here? She came to see me yesterday, but—”

“If you don’t have any orders to place, you should leave,” the guy replies.

Uh?

I click my tongue and shrug.

“Sure, put me down for a baguette with sausage, peppers, and some of that nice lidulae paste you have. Also, don’t overcook the sausage, pal. You tend to dry up the meat juices.”

The guy stares at me as if I am a mold stain on the wall.

“Anything to drink?”

“No, thanks,” I raise my thermos of coffee. “I’m covered.”

As I pay and he goes to the back, I feel a bit guilty about the sausage remark. I mean, it’s true. These people have an insane business because students don’t know any better, but they also have large margins for improvement.

As I sit, I hear some noises from the kitchen, including a feminine voice, and I see a Mediterranean beauty come out from behind the counter and walk toward me.

“Hi, Joey,” she smiles, “don’t mind Cordius; he’s just tired.”

Honestly, I don’t even remember when I told her my name. Wait. Was it when—no, I don’t remember. No, wait. Maybe I did when I revealed myself. Yeah, that would make sense. Did she actually call out my name yesterday?

“Wassup, Cassie,” I smile widely and give her one of my custom winks. “I hope everything is good around here. You look terrific, by the way.”

“I just woke up, and I’m not wearing any make-up,” she shakes her head.

“So what? Natural beauties don’t need no make-up.”

“Charming as any other Italian guy,” she sighs and rolls her eyes.

I do wonder what she wants from me. Has she succumbed to my charm? Not that I blame her, ok? But at the same time, she gives me sketchy vibes. I’m not sure I want to get mixed up with whatever business she means. Sure, she’s really hot, in a very dark and tormented way, but you know…

“So, take a seat, please,” I say. “What did you want to tell me yesterday? Want to confess your love for me? Ask me on a date? Tell me what kind of dowry your father got for me? I’m all ears.”

She gives me a deadpan look as she sits at my table, sniffing the air for a second and eyeing the thermos in my hand.

“Is that coffee?” her eyes go wide.

“Ya’ bet,” I wink again, “you want some? This one is spiked with some stamina potion, which actually alchemically complements caffeine and whatever else is in coffee. Word of [Alchemist], not mine.”

“Sure.”

“So, what did you come to me for?” I ask while pouring hot coffee into a cup.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you are not the first to have a crush on me. It’s a pretty common phenomenon, really.”

“I’d like to take some baking lessons,” she says with an unmoving gaze.

“Baking lessons?”

“Baking lessons.”

So, wait a second. She came to see me after work just to—

“I mean, we are both from Earth; aren’t we going to discuss that? I don’t know—compare experiences or something?”

“You can talk during the lessons.”

I look at the black-haired woman in front of me and sniff.

“Meh,” I sigh.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“It’s a ‘meh,’ which is not a ‘yes,’ but a ‘meh.’”

“You know what? I’ll think about it,” I say while I relax back into the chair, closing my eyes while I wait for my baguette. I yawn loudly and wonder if I can conjure an immaterial pillow to sustain my head in a sitting position. Could I create a [Light] object solid enough to be a moving recliner? Huh. That’s something to explore.

…

As I chew on the baguette, I notice that the dough is a bit chewy. It did not rise properly, making the overall density too high to have the proper crunchiness. The toppings ‘wet’ the dough enough to overlook this, but it’s not an excuse. I never specialized in burgers or sandwiches. But I wonder if a simple salad leaf could prevent the toppings from messing up the bread.

“The sausage is nice, at least,” I say as the juices touch my tongue.

…

“Are you ok?” Cordius asks me while I sit in the back alone, trying to meditate.

“Yes.”

I nod, trying to smile but barely making it halfway through. It’s hard putting a mask on when I’m with Cordius. With the others, I have no problem. But what happened eight years ago is still haunting me. It radically changed me. It made me another person.

But most of all.

It broke me.

I look at one of the several red skills that are plaguing me.

[Major Depression]

In my head, one word is painted over and over. There’s no escaping the monster because the monster is me. I need to control this, but it’s hard to do so because there’s no escape.

It’s a black void.