The rain grew heavier just as the man stepped into a small tavern on the edge of the village. His dark brown cloak was now spared from the downpour, though parts of its fabric were already damp.
"Good afternoon, sir. What would you like?" a teenage girl greeted him with a warm smile. Her thick rose-red outfit shielded her entire body from the harsh weather outside.
"A glass of hot tea, please," the man replied curtly, pulling out a wooden chair and taking a seat. Though he was already indoors, he made no move to lower the hood of his cloak. He reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out a silver coin, and placed it on the table.
"Alright, please wait a moment," said the girl with the same pleasant smile, picking up the silver coin. She grabbed a ceramic cup from a cupboard to her right and deftly prepared the man's tea.
The tavern consisted of a single room, split into two sections by a long wooden counter stretching from one side to the other. One side was for customers, with enough space for five wooden chairs. The other side was the kitchen, filled with various cooking utensils. The entrance was made of wooden planks, now stacked neatly in the corner so guests could come inside freely.
The man glanced around. Though the tavern looked modest from the outside, its interior exuded warmth and comfort. Nearly every part of it was made from sturdy wood—from the walls to the chairs. The tableware was mostly ceramic and glass. What stood out most was the pendulum clock on the right wall—made of lightweight metal and painted in black and yellow—something not commonly found in homes.
On the left side of the room were four flower pots, neatly arranged and pleasing to the eye. Three were medium-sized, and one was small. Each pot held a different type of flower. The first contained colorful flowers with thin, bushy stems. The second held dark brown blooms with thorny stalks. The third bore grayish-black flowers with stiff stems. The smallest pot held delicate white flowers with soft, slender stalks—but its blooms were the most abundant of them all.
The man stared at the flowers for a while, then let his gaze wander to the rest of the tavern.
Perhaps because he was so absorbed in observing the room, the edge of his left thumb accidentally brushed against a wooden splinter on the table, drawing a small drop of blood. He stared at the minor wound blankly.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, sir. Here's your tea," the girl said as she approached, placing a steaming cup of tea on the table. The rising steam drew the man's attention away from the quiet tavern—he was the only customer on this rainy afternoon.
He placed his backpack on the table, pulled the cup toward him with both hands, and began sipping slowly, while the rain outside continued to fall steadily.
The evening sky, which should have glowed golden, was veiled by dark clouds, followed by thunder and the patter of rain. Given the weather, the man had decided to pause his journey, resting his tired body while taking shelter.
He continued drinking, each sip warming his once-dry, chilled throat.
"If there's nothing else you need, I'll head to the back," said the girl politely. The man gave a slight nod, and she disappeared through a door behind the kitchen.
By now, he had finished half his tea. The rain outside had begun to ease, no longer as loud or fierce—perhaps it would stop soon, he thought, as he took another sip.
After this, the man would have to cross a forest just beyond the village. Though the trees weren't dense and wild animals were rare, the forest couldn't exactly be called safe.
Locals had warned him about a group of bandits that often prowled the area right after it rained. A simple trade route ran through the forest, used by merchants to transport their goods.
Though the local authorities had stationed guards along the path, the bandits somehow always managed to ambush and rob merchants. These incidents had occurred several times over the past three months—nearly all after the rain had just cleared.
Despite this, the man still intended to press on. He hoped to reach the next village before midnight and find a place to rest. But first, he had to cross the forest, staying alert for any signs of trouble.
He took the final sip of his tea just as the dark clouds in the sky began to clear, letting sunlight pour through and brighten the late afternoon. Birds began to chirp again.
Seeing the weather improve, he stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and took one last look around the tavern. A single dry leaf fell from a plant near the wall and landed softly on the floor.
Let's hope nothing troublesome happens again, he thought, stepping onto the rain-soaked road, heading for the village exit.