Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking [2]

Venti was Venti, and yet he wasn’t.

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

He wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about the god Barbatos, but he could speak a little on the subject and was even fortunate enough to receive a gift from him, granting him a bit of self-defense.

He knew a few things about his current planet, Jarilo-VI, and the cosmic journey it represented.

The timeline was supposed to be a few years before the arrival of the Astral Express, though he wasn’t quite sure of the exact date.

As for why he was now “reduced” to making a living by performing—

For one, he currently lacked the power he remembered from his memories—the strength to dispel blizzards, split mountains, and transform harsh lands into places where wind and honey flowed.

Secondly, the tyrant seated in the “Guardian’s” position was not the type to welcome an unpredictable variable like him with open arms.

So, for now, he had to bide his time and slowly gather strength. It wasn’t like he was slacking—

After all, these days, apart from singing to keep himself fed, he was busy organizing his memories.

The memories of “Barbatos” spanned millennia, and even though not all of them were unlocked, inheriting them in an orderly way was a major challenge.

Compared to Barbatos’ lifetime, his own previous life might not have been long enough to fill a single nap.

Thankfully, Venti could confirm he hadn’t been completely assimilated into being “Barbatos.” While deeply influenced by him, the main reason he took this name was that his own past was nothing worth mentioning.

Thus, with the deity’s blessing, he took the name. Living more freely and spontaneously in another world seemed like a small, forgivable indulgence, didn’t it?

…

“——On a distant frontier planet lived a group of people. They were called the Season Watchers, and from birth, they guarded the long, endless seasons.”

Venti was telling a story at Natasha’s clinic, a place often crowded with the injured and filled with cries of pain—not always the right setting for cheerful songs.

So sometimes, he told stories instead of singing. And for the children, as long as there were snacks and a good story, they could sit still for quite a while.

“Venti, Venti, why did they watch the seasons? Are there other seasons besides winter?”

“Of course there are, Lord Hook of the Dark.”

Venti recognized the child who asked. Her adorable face bore crumbs from the snacks she’d eaten, and her oversized dust-proof winter hat made her look a bit bulky.

She was the “leader” of a local group called the Moles, a free spirit who saw life as a series of adventures.

But interrupting someone’s story wasn’t exactly polite.

Once she’d been shushed by the other children, who stuffed her mouth with roasted gecko tails, Venti continued.

“The planet was unique—one year there equaled sixty years on Jarilo. Fifteen years of spring, fifteen years of summer, fifteen of autumn, and fifteen of winter…”

Just hearing the description, the children’s jaws dropped in unison with a collective “Wow!” Though they had little concept of time or the ancient seasonal words, their imaginations filled in the gaps.

“People were born into these seemingly stagnant seasons. They grew from babies to young girls, having never witnessed the changing of seasons, only hearing the tales from their elders of what it was like to see the world transformed—

“They said that in spring, endless seas of honey flowed; in summer, the nights were alive with the songs of frogs and insects; in autumn, you could stand on your tiptoes and pluck fruits to fill your belly; and in winter…”

Perhaps reaching the limits of their imaginations, the children began to look drowsy. Only Hook still gazed up with wide, sparkling eyes and burst out.

“In winter, you dig for georoot to stay warm, right?!”

Venti blinked in surprise before replying, his tone thoughtful.

“Perhaps so, but I think—when the snow piles up in winter, that’s the perfect time for a snowball fight.”

“Pfft, that’s so silly, Venti! What’s so fun about snowball fights?”

Hook giggled at him. For these children, who’d never seen the sun, thick snow was never a welcome sight.

In the Lower District, which was constantly shrinking due to the Fragmentum, people’s living spaces were being squeezed ever smaller. The endless snow and the relentless machinery had been constants since they were born.

Most importantly—

Any day they happened to find a frozen scavenger buried beneath the snow while playing with snowballs with their friends…

Their desire to play would freeze over in an instant.

The one lesson they learned from their families was never to sleep in the snow.

Because if you fell asleep in the snow, you’d never wake up again.

Just as Venti was pondering how to respond, someone came to his rescue.

“Alright, Hook. It’s time to go home. Any later, and Mr. Fismann will be worried—”

This was a woman named Natasha, one of the few doctors in the Lower District, responsible for the young and old in this resource-scarce area.

Because of her profession and her firm yet caring demeanor, Natasha commanded both respect and a little fear from most of the Lower District residents.

Even Hook, despite calling her an old witch in private, would obediently address her as “Sister Natasha” when face-to-face.

As soon as Natasha spoke, Hook squeaked, startled, and backed away a few steps.

Two days earlier, she’d broken one of Natasha’s test tubes by accident and got quite the scolding for it.

So seeing her now was like a mole encountering an owl!

“Oh, uh, now that you mention it! I’ll leave you two alone. See you later, Sister Natasha, Venti!”

Hook scurried off with her two sidekicks—a boy named Julian and a girl named Alina.

The other children, done with snacks and stories, also said their goodbyes to Venti and headed home.

Though the upper city might still be deciding on what to have for afternoon tea, for the children of the Lower District, it was already time to head home before dark.

After watching them leave, Venti let out a small sigh of relief and looked gratefully at Natasha.

She wore a gray-white headband, her green hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

Her large, red-and-white medic’s coat couldn’t hide her curvaceous figure, and her serene smile and gentle demeanor were calming.

However, her haggard expression, with bangs drooping over her forehead, made Venti straighten up a little.

“Long day, huh? Want some music to relax? How about an impromptu piece? Or maybe a nocturne?”

“No need.” Natasha shook her head with a tired but soft smile. “If I listened to your nocturne now, I might just sleep through until morning.”

“Oh, don’t say that! You’re a splendid dahlia in the prime of your bloom! Wouldn’t it be a pity if you withered before your time?”

Venti plopped onto an empty bed, rummaged through his coat only to find he’d run out of snacks, then casually swung his slender, white-stockinged legs back and forth as he mumbled softly.

“Oh, how I miss the days when I had apples…”

Though curious about the occasional “antiquated” words Venti let slip, Natasha found herself more curious about his… gender.

But refusing to reply to his teasing wasn’t an option; Venti might get lonely.

So she tried responding in his own lighthearted, lyrical tone.

“To be remembered by a poet who sings of beauty—I suppose even if a long time passes, this flower might find itself in a story all its own.”

Natasha didn’t claim to understand Venti fully, but like most people who met him, she’d heard his beautiful music and found herself compelled to listen.

Of course, Venti wasn’t a complete mystery.

Everyone knew that Venti’s gender was… Venti, that Venti would wilt if left lonely, and that whenever he earned a bit of money, he would try to buy a drink (although he was often turned down for looking too young, or being short on funds).

But if there was one thing people knew about him most—

It was that, until the very end of his stories, you never knew if they’d have a happy ending or a tragic one.