I Don’t Want to Start a Story!

The atmosphere of the room suddenly shifted. The decrepit mayor suddenly sat straighter than he had in years as sweat began to build up on his balding forehead. On the other hand, Max relaxed his posture significantly as he began to play with the tea drenched cake using the fork in his right hand. It was disappointing. The sickly-sweet looking cake was desirable, but undoubtedly wasn’t worth him indulging in it. Bessie’s cakes were just sweet enough with local honey, but not so sugary that it upset his stomach. This body had only experienced basic food. It would react poorly to anything so rich. It was a shame. He missed those flavours.

“You’ve completed a five star?” The mayor’s voice was timid and frail compared to moments ago. Max didn’t acknowledge that he spoke. “It took me thirty-six lifetimes to complete a one-star story… How long did it take for you to complete a five-star one?”

Max thought about it for a couple of seconds. “I don’t know, too many to remember.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “When you go for higher difficulties, it just becomes depressing after a while if you keep count. But thirty-six is way too many for a one-star. Just stick to the sub-goals, and you should be able to complete it quickly and enjoy retirement… again.”

“As I’ve learned.” The mayor gave out a defeated sigh. “But how can you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Go through with all of the sub-goals?”

Max didn’t need the mayor to continue for him to assume what he was alluding too, but curiosity was getting the better of him. Which sub-goals caused him to have a moral dilemma? “What did the system make you do?”

“The system didn’t make me do it… I caused it.” The words hung heavy in the air. The guilt was apparent all over his face. Eventually, he yielded and chose to confess his sins for a sense of comfort. “You’re still relatively new to the village… Have you heard about my daughter, Delilah?”

“…I heard.” Max stopped playing with the picked apart slice of cake. “I’m sorry, but if it’s for a sub-goal-”

“Sorry?”

“Your daughter… she died, right? She was murdered?”

The old mayor soundly erupted into a fit of laughter. As it continued, it grew increasingly painful to listen too. Finally, he was able to choke back some of it so the conversation could progress. “Good to know my story is still alive and well. So, what exactly did you hear, ey? Was it from Aldwin?”

A perplexed Max nodded to confirm his source of information. “An amnesiac showed up at the village. Your family took him in, and he killed your infant daughter. After finding her body, you gathered the villagers and lynched the amnesiac, starting the tradition to ‘string up troublemakers.’ Since more and more amnesiacs kept appearing, you campaigned to become the village mayor and streamlined the process.”

“And proposed it to the king to get it written into law. We have to give them a grace period now, but most struggle to blend in, so it doesn’t matter.” the mayor added with a pleased smile. “That was my story. A tale of revenge and the injustices in this world with a goal of permanently changing the legal system making it more morally grey.”

It seemed like an ordinary one-star tale, and it explained the villagers’ attitude towards Max and the vegan amnesiac when they first arrived. “And Delilah?”

The mayor’s smile dropped suddenly, and his aged face scrunched up slightly. The numerous wrinkles showed this was a common expression that had ruled most of his life. “The original prompt required me to seduce my wife. Sub-goal after sub-goal, it eventually led to the sub-goal requiring me to set up a substantial personal injustice concerning my daughter, Delilah. It also required that she lost her life.”

“…You got her killed?”

The mayor dropped the sad face and replaced it with a baffled look. “No! No! The system recommended me to do that through a hint.” The hint system was almost always a waste of time. It only ever gave basic advice and solutions. “But I couldn’t go through with it. So, I told my wife.” His face and posture relaxed slightly as he repeated the phrases he must’ve told himself for years. “I was hesitating too much. My wife decided to abandon our child at a church in the capital and organised a crime scene for me to discover with clues hinting to the amnesiac living in our home. I received an injustice caused by my wife, and Delilah lost the life she would have had living with us.”

What?

The mayor continued. “Of course, I didn’t know any of this and I carried out the story as the system intended. There were a few other sub-goals, but that was the worst one. Once my story was complete and I was free from the constraints, she finally told me the truth about what she did. I may have missed out on being part of Delilah’s life, but at least she’s alive.”

So, the only reason he was able to complete the one-star was because of his wife? “You’re very lucky to marry someone from this world who believed you and kept the secret about the system. It must’ve been difficult for her to turn a blind eye when you and the village went after that amnesiac.”

The mayor gave a disgusting grunt to show his agreement. “She struggled for years with guilt. After my story ended, she went looking for Delilah. They used to write once a month to each other.”

“So, Delilah is alive and well?” He was very lucky indeed. Usually, the expectations declared by the system meant there was little to no wriggle room. If he had been the one to figure out a roundabout way to resolving the sub-goal then he had the potential to do higher star stories. Unfortunately, he was not his wife. “Where is your wife?” Max asked when it finally dawned on him that he had never seen her since he arrived in the village.

“She joined a covenant.” The mayor looked pleased.

“Because of her guilty conscience?”

“Because she wanted a bit of girlie bonding time with Delilha.”

Max could not believe his ears for a second. “Becoming a nun isn’t just a bit of ‘girlie bonding time.’ It’s a serious dedication.” It was in most worlds anyway.

The mayor started laughing again before the laughter devolved into a hearty cough. Was the stress of this conversation pushing him to the edge of his lifespan? “She spent most of her life here, living with me and our son. Martha isn’t a religious woman, but now was her chance to spend some time with our daughter before the end of her life.”

“She’s planning to spend the rest of her life with your daughter?” The mayor grinned with a nod. “You seemed pleased that you’re not going to see her much anymore. You don’t have much time left to spend with her.” The mayor overlooked the hint of sadness in Max’s voice.

“Martha’s a good woman.” His tone showed his sincerity. “It’s her life and her choice. She promised to visit with Delilah the weekend before I die… We’re content with this arrangement.”

“And when will that be?” Max said as he struggled to keep a neutral face. Did the mayor know the whole village had bets placed on when he’ll die?

“Three weeks before my hundred and thirteenth birthday.” He said with pride, ignoring Max’s perplexed face. “It’ll be on a Thursday at a quarter past eight at night.”