Tristan was a very nice name. Elegant. Old-fashioned. It would be no hardship to answer to that name. Now, if only finding out the identity of his patron was as easy as that, he would dive back under the covers and never move a finger for the rest of his life. But reality wasn’t that understanding. He was stuck reviewing …

He woke up. Experience had taught him to keep his eyes closed, so he took a moment to understand his situation. First things first. He dreamt. He can’t quite remember what and for how long, but he dreamt. It had been so long since the last time he dreamt of anything that he couldn’t help but feel more hopeful for …

If one could live in dreams, he would force his body into an artificial coma. Life and living bored him. After so many years, he could feel some mild amusement for his fellow men. Whether they cared for him as parents, or whether they cursed for his death, loving in return and hating in return took too much effort. Effort …