January 2nd, 1027 of the New Calendar.
Plymouth's shops were brimming with the atmosphere of celebration, and Aaron had even watched several grand holiday parades.
But once night fell, wandering travelers with nowhere to call home would discover that this city's prosperity and wealth had not the slightest thing to do with them.
They exhausted everything they had, yet still could not gain even a foothold in Plymouth.
They could only drift from place to place, enduring the scorn and expulsion of patrol officers, using scraps of newspaper beneath bridges to fend off the bitter cold.
Aaron naturally did not need to become a vagrant, but as he gazed at the vast city taking advantage of the cover of night, he felt equally lost.
They say Plymouth gathers all the young people with dreams in all of Invis, and is hailed as the dream of the great metropolis. But those who truly manage to fulfill their dreams are few and far between...
Most of them pour their hardship and sweat, even their blood and tears, into this city, only to leave in silence once they grow old or fall gravely ill—or simply die here...
He glanced at a ragpicker passing nearby. The man looked to be only around thirty, yet his eyes were vacant, as though he had lost all hope.
Aaron sighed and headed toward a bar radiating warm light.
The sign above it bore the name "Hunter Bar."
The nightlife of the extraordinary had only just begun...
He entered the bar. Since Invis also had a New Year holiday, there were still quite a few patrons inside.
Drunks lay sprawled all over the floor, every one of them having had too much to drink, but nobody paid them any mind now.
Aaron noticed a row of wanted posters