Chapter 2: Just a Bard

Venti is Venti, yet he is not Venti.

Before arriving here, he had another name and an ordinary background.

He wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about the name "Barbatos," but he could still speak a few words about it. He had even been fortunate enough to receive gifts from the deity, granting him some self-defense skills.

Moreover, he had a rough understanding of the interstellar journey represented by the planet Jarilo-VI, where he now found himself.

The current timeline should be a few years before the arrival of the "Astral Express Crew," though Venti wasn’t entirely sure of the exact timing.

As for why he had "fallen" to making a living by performing, there were two main reasons.

First, he didn’t yet possess the power from his memories that could scatter snowstorms, split mountains, and turn barren wastelands into lands flowing with wind and mead.

Second, the tyrant currently seated as the "Guardian" would not extend proper hospitality to an unpredictable variable like him.

Therefore, he had no choice but to bide his time and slowly accumulate strength. He definitely wasn’t slacking off—

After all, these days, aside from singing to make a living, he was also busy organizing and sorting through his memories.

Because the memories of "Barbatos" spanned an incredibly long time, recorded over thousands of years, even though not all of them were unlocked, it was still a hassle to inherit them in an orderly manner.

Compared to Barbatos’s lifetime, his previous life might not even amount to a nap for the deity.

But fortunately, Venti could confirm that he hadn’t been completely assimilated into "Him." Although he was deeply influenced by some aspects, the main reason he took this name was that his original past was simply too insignificant to mention.

Therefore, feeling the deity’s favor and inheriting the name, wasn’t it permissible to live more freely and unrestrained in this different world?

...

"On a distant border planet far from us, there lives a group of people. They are called the Season Watchers. From the moment they are born, they keep watch over the long, drawn-out seasons."

Venti was telling a story in Natasha’s clinic. The place was often crowded with patients, filled with cries of pain, so it wasn’t always suitable to sing cheerful songs.

Thus, he occasionally replaced songs with stories. For the children, as long as there were snacks and a good story, they could stay well-behaved for a long, long time.

"Venti, Venti, why do they need to watch the seasons? Are there really seasons other than winter in the world?"

"Of course there are, Great Hook the Dark. Let me tell you in detail—"

Venti recognized the child who asked the question. Her cute, tender face was smeared with snack crumbs, and she wore an oversized, bulky dust-proof hat that looked a bit ridiculous.

She was the "leader" of a group of children called the "Moles" here. She loved freedom and always treated life as one big adventure after another.

However, interrupting someone’s story wasn’t a good habit.

After watching her get her mouth stuffed with roasted cave lizard tails by the other children, Venti continued his tale.

"That planet is very special. One year there equals sixty years on Jarilo. Fifteen years of spring, fifteen years of summer, fifteen years of autumn, and fifteen years of winter..."

Just from the description, the children all opened their mouths wide and exclaimed, "Wow—" Even though their concept of time wasn’t very clear, and they didn’t know the ancient, rarely used words for the seasons, their imaginations were enough to fill in the gaps.

"People are born in these seemingly stagnant seasons, growing from infants into young girls, never having witnessed the changing of seasons. They could only hear from their elders what the transition between seasons was like—

They said that in spring, there flowed an endless sea of honey; in summer, the nights were filled with the songs of frogs and insects, making it hard to sleep; in autumn, you could just tiptoe and pick fruits to feast on; in winter..."

Perhaps their imaginations had hit a bottleneck, as the children gradually began to look drowsy. Only Hook still stared with wide, round eyes and blurted out,

"In winter, do they have to go mining for ore to keep warm?!"

Venti was slightly taken aback by this and then replied somewhat uncertainly,

"Maybe, but I think—when the snow piles up in winter, you can have snowball fights."

"Pfft, Venti, you’re so childish. What’s so fun about snowball fights?"

Hook laughed at him. For these children who had never seen the sun above their heads, thick snow was never a good thing.

In the lower districts, which were increasingly eroded by the Fragmentum, the living space for people was constantly shrinking. Snowstorms had been a monotonous part of their lives since birth, always accompanied by the sound of mechanical gears.

Most importantly—

If one day, while playing with snowballs, they happened to find a frozen, blue-faced scavenger buried beneath the snow,

Any desire to play would freeze in that moment.

The children heard from their families that they must never sleep in the snow.

Because once you fall asleep, you’ll never wake up.

Just as Venti was feeling troubled and unsure how to respond, someone came to his rescue.

"Alright, Hook. It’s time for you to go home. If you’re any later, Mr. Fersman will worry—"

This was a female doctor named Natasha. She was also one of the few doctors in the lower districts, taking care of the men, women, and children in this area with its severely lacking medical resources.

Due to her profession and her no-nonsense attitude when caring for others, most people in the lower districts both respected and feared Natasha.

This included Hook. Although she privately called Natasha an old witch, in person, she would obediently call her "Sister Natasha."

Sure enough, as soon as Natasha spoke, Hook let out a startled "Eek!" and took a few steps back.

Just two days ago, she had accidentally broken one of Natasha’s test tubes and had been scolded for it.

So now, seeing Natasha was like a mole running into an owl!

"Uh, uh, you’re right! Then I won’t disturb Sister Natasha and Venti anymore. I’m leaving now!"

The obedient Hook left with her two little followers—a boy named Julian and a girl named Alina.

The other children, having finished listening to the story and eating their snacks, also said their goodbyes to Venti and went home in small groups.

While the upper districts were probably still discussing what to have for afternoon tea, for the children of the lower districts, it was already time to go home and not wander outside.

After seeing the children off, Venti looked at Dr. Natasha as if he had been "saved."

She wore a gray-white hairband, tying her blue hair into a neat and refreshing ponytail.

Her ample figure couldn’t be hidden by her large, red-and-white medical attire. Her smile was gentle, and her demeanor was calm.

However, the exhaustion from overwork, to the point where she didn’t even notice the bangs falling over her forehead, made Venti straighten up a bit.

"You’ve worked hard, Natasha. Would you like some music to relax? A capriccio or a serenade?"

"No need." Natasha smiled and shook her head. Her slightly tired eyes showed a hint of relief. "If I listen to your serenade now, I’m afraid I’ll sleep until tomorrow morning."

"Don’t say that. You’re a beautiful dahlia in your prime! If you don’t rest well and wither too soon, it would be such a pity."

Venti sat on an empty hospital bed, rummaged through his pockets, and realized he had run out of snacks. He then casually placed his hands on the bed and gently swung his slender, white-stockinged legs, muttering softly,

"Ah, I really miss the days when I had apples to eat..."

Although Natasha was curious about the "vintage" things Venti occasionally mentioned, what she was more concerned about was Venti’s gender.

However, if she didn’t respond to his teasing, Venti would feel lonely.

She tried to answer in a light, poetic tone similar to his:

"To be remembered by a poet like you, who sings of the world’s beauty, I think even after a long time, this flower will reappear in a story that suits it, don’t you think?"

Natasha didn’t dare say she knew Venti well. Like most people who knew him, she had only heard his beautiful harp music and instinctively stopped to listen.

Of course, Venti wasn’t that mysterious.

Everyone knew that Venti’s gender was Venti, that Venti would die if he got too lonely, and that every time he earned some money, he would try to buy alcohol. (Though he often couldn’t afford it because he looked too young and didn’t have enough money.)

But the most well-known fact about him was—

You only knew whether Venti’s stories would have a happy or sad ending when you reached the very end.