The Tapestry of the End

The man calmly shifted his brown eyes to the half-liter glass of beer and removed the cloth covering his face. Behind the dirty piece of fabric was an ugly, elongated scar stretching from his right cheekbone down, covering almost his entire cheek. Scratching his stubbly chin, he took a big gulp of the hoppy drink.

"Paula... why is the beer so strong?" he asked, looking at the barmaid, who was wiping a glass with a faded cloth at that moment.

"How should I know? And you could at least say hello first, you uncultured brute," she scolded him, loudly placing the glass down.

"Eh... is that how you treat a customer?"

"With you, yes."

"You're mean."

Paula snorted loudly, turned her back to the man, took out another glass, and began wiping it.

The man thoughtfully looked at his glass, as if expecting the beer to suddenly become less strong. He shook his head, feeling the alcohol slowly spread through his veins. Feeling a gaze on him, he looked to the right and saw a barefoot young man slowly eating a sausage.

"Where did you lose your shoes, huh?" the man asked, unable to suppress a smile, watching the young man who, apparently, was in no hurry to answer, chewing intently.

"Nowhere."

"Don't frown like that, I was just asking."

"Günter, leave him alone," Paula said, loudly placing a plate in front of the man.

"Come on, maybe I'll die today? I need to meet new people while I'm still alive!"

"You know, drinking alcohol before your job won't help your survival," she retorted, emphasizing the word "your."

"What do you know? By the way, it helps to cope with all this mess. You know, when you see some creature devouring a person alive... it's not a pleasant sight, don't you think?"

"Then quit."

"I don't want to; I earn in a month what I would in three months at most other places."

"Then don't whine. And don't bother people."

"Eh..."

With a deep sigh marking the end of the conversation, the man focused on his glass again, which now seemed almost like a sacred object to him. He turned it in his hands, allowing the light from the foggy windows to glint on the wet surface. The beer didn't get any lighter, just like his life. With each sip, the alcohol seemed to only intensify the feeling of being pulled into dark depths where there was no salvation.

The young man sitting next to him finally finished his sausage and looked up at Günter. The man met his gaze with surprise.

"So... where did you get that scar?"

"Look at you, all gloomy and uncommunicative, but you started the conversation. I guess my charm isn't lost yet, right, Paula?"

The barmaid just rolled her eyes at the smirk and continued her work.

The young man seemed not to expect such a response. He squinted slightly, then shook his head as if unsure how to react. Günter, feeling the awkward pause in the conversation, looked back at his glass. Every morning started with this glass, this bar counter, this feeling of going nowhere. Like Paula, like this guy with the sausage.

"You don't know anything, kid," Günter said, feeling the words spill out on their own, not even trying to stop them. "This scar? It's one of those things you don't ask about. But since you did... remember this for the future. Lesser vampires are real bastards."

Saying this, Günter took a swig of beer, the spreading cold seemingly sharpening the memories lurking in the depths of his mind.

"Strong, fast, practically unkillable cunning creatures that live in the shadows of big cities and forests."

Günter paused, looking at the young man who was watching him with interest, and continued, as if on autopilot, still immersed in his thoughts that wouldn't let him go.

"They're always hunting, always craving flesh and blood. Abominable spawn, as if from the most twisted nightmares."

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the memories to engulf him again. Images awakened in his mind like terrifying ghosts: night, blood-red eyes, breath that was cold and unnatural, like something from another world, his squad, the bloody massacre. And that scar... it was just a reminder that Günter still couldn't escape that nightmare.

"When you see them for the first time, you don't know what you're doing. You just want to survive. Fear clouds your mind, animal instincts take over. It's like turning from a wolf into a frightened fawn trembling before a ruthless predator... It's impossible to describe."

Paula, casting a tired glance at the man, wiped another glass. Meanwhile, Günter took another long gulp of beer, feeling his insides start to burn, his mind sinking deeper into memories from which there was no escape. He continued, ignoring the stunned young man who seemed unsure what to do with such revelations.

"I was with them, those who didn't survive. We walked through dark streets, trying to track that creature. Ahead was only darkness, but we walked confidently, ready for battle, sure of success, ha... how foolish that was."

Finishing his beer, he loudly placed the glass on the table and turned, saying:

"And you? What's your name?"

The young man lowered his gaze to his empty glass, lost in thought. He wiped his lips, remaining silent. An awkward pause hung in the air. Günter, sensing the young man wasn't in a hurry to answer, looked at his face again.

"Well... if you don't want to answer, you'll just be 'the guy with the sausage,'" he said somewhat mockingly.

"I don't have a name... or rather, I don't remember."

In response, Günter raised his eyebrows and gave the young man a surprised look.

"If you don't want to talk, then don't."

"I really don't know..."

Günter looked closely at the young man, who, despite the partial lack of clothing, didn't look like a vagrant. Normal physique, no sunken cheeks, outwardly clean, no smell.

"Hey Paula, can you lose your memory from a blow to the head?" he concluded.

"Probably, but I'm not sure."

Receiving an indifferent answer, Günter looked at the young man and said:

"Maybe you were robbed? Knocked out and everything taken, even your shoes, don't you think?"

"Uh... no. I'm sure I wasn't robbed."

"Well, if you say so, my job is to ask."

Shrugging, he stared at the young man, seemingly deep in thought.

"Well... then you'll be Lucian," the man quickly said, looking the young man over again and smirking.

"What? Why?"

"Look, a person without a name is very suspicious. Even small children and vagrants have names, but you don't. What if they catch you, lock you up, can't identify you, pin a crime on you, and you end up rotting in a cell for the rest of your life? This way, you have a name, and someone to confirm your identity, isn't that beneficial?"

"And why Lucian?"

"Your eyes are light, and the name means light. What, do you like it?"

Bam...

The sound of a full beer glass being placed in front of Günter was heard.

"You're quite the philosopher, Günter," Paula said. "Just tell me, you didn't choose it because it sounds like a curse in Tarian, did you?"

"Cough... cough... no, who do you take me for?"

"An idiot and a drunk."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely."

Ignoring the light banter, the young man continued:

"Lucian, huh...? Not bad..."

"Are you serious?" Paula asked, staring at him questioningly.

"Yes... I like it."

"See, I told you! Well, kid, from now on you're Lucian, nice to meet you," Günter said in a noticeably louder tone.

"Yeah..."