The Cursed King

NEW YORK, 2045

.

"Crazy! It says here that the billionaire is associated with an organ trafficking scandal on the black market. According to the news, he got a fresh heart for his transplant the other day from a victim of human trafficking in Asia."

"It is so awful. They said he's already had multiple organ transplants throughout the years to stay alive."

"He's what..? 95 years old, right? Almost a century-old, but still trying to stay alive and in power."

"Well, wealthy people can avoid death with their money*1."

"Ahhh .. it's so nice to be rich. They can do anything with their money. That's right. Rich people can get plastic surgery to keep them looking young, and if their organs are damaged or failed, they could just replace them with new and healthy organs from the black market."

"Yeah, also, with technological advances that they can buy with money, they can live young for hundreds of years."

"Uff.. so lucky!"

The two women kept chatting enthusiastically about some ultra-wealthy man they read about in the news today.

It was a lazy Saturday and not many people came to the cafe. So, most of the tables were empty.

Their voices were the only things that rang in the cafe, except for the occasional coffee maker when the barista made coffee for guests.

A handsome man wearing dark sunglasses, who was sitting in a corner of the cafe, reading a book, glanced at the source of the noise and took a deep breath.

Loriel, the man's name, was starting to get annoyed, that he felt the desire to pull his neck-length black hair.

That corner was his regular spot whenever he came to this cafe to leisurely enjoy his book and tea, and he had been having peace before the two ladies came and started gossiping loudly.

Actually, the women's voices were not super loud but the man had a very sharp sense of hearing.

Also, usually, there were many other guests here who could all cover each other's sounds. However, today, there were only these two ladies and they happened to talk about the same boring nonsense over and over again. It got tiring fast.

He frowned, and the calm expression on his face turned dark when he heard the enthusiasm in their voices as they debated how much money did the billionaire pay for the organ, and how nice it was to be rich because they could extend their life span and live longer.

In fact, maybe in the future, rich people could live forever if they could keep changing their bodies and organs. People were already thinking in that direction and so many books and movies were written about the subject.

Surely, one day, people could finally live forever. How nice it would be!

Loriel pressed his temple in annoyance.

Those fools don't know that living forever is bad, he thought.

He had lived for fifteen centuries, looking like a young man as he was now, and he couldn't see where was the fun of it.

In fact, if he could be honest ... he actually wanted to die.

The sound of their chattering was getting louder and more excited, making Loriel increasingly more annoyed.

Finally, his patience ran out.

The man put down his book on the table and looked out the window to his left.

Ah ... it hadn't rained in a long time, he thought as he saw how sunny it was outside.

He glanced at the two women who were still engrossed in gossiping about the various celebrities and rich people they read on the internet and giggled every now and then while they were gossiping.

Loriel took off his sunglasses and looked outside intently. He slowly waved his hand, and then put his glasses back on.

He focused his attention back on the book in his right hand, then he counted internally.

10, 9, 8, 7 ..... 3, 2,1.

Not long after, there was a sound of blaring thunder and suddenly rain fell so hard.

The sound of rain falling to the earth and the water droplets as they hit the glass windows beside him was quite loud, and it quickly overtook the voices of the two women who were chatting earlier.

They both tried to keep talking but they could barely hear themselves, because of the sound of the rain falling so violently from outside the window.

Feeling bad if they had to scream while chatting, the two women finally gave up and decided to stop talking and focused their attention on the food and drinks that were in front of them.

The two women then ate and did not speak anymore.

The handsome man sighed with satisfaction and appeared to be reading his book again as if nothing had happened.

Loriel really liked the sound of the rain, but he understood enough not to bring down rain whenever he felt like it.

However, today was an exception.

It had not rained in New York for a long while, so he could justify what he did today.

"Sir, this is a new pot of tea for you." Suddenly, a waiter came with a tray and smiled at him sweetly. "The tea in your teapot must be cold by now."

Loriel took his book down when the waiter offered to replace his now-cold tea.

"Thank you," said Loriel in a flat voice.

"You're welcome, Sir," said the waiter cheerfully, and then she went back inside, leaving this regular customer with his book, much to his delight.

This was one of the busiest cafes in Midtown and he loved coming here. Their impeccable service was one of the reasons.

For the past two years, he would always sit here to enjoy his tea and a slice of cake, without missing a day, watching the people come and go.

It was good to relieve his boredom, because, contrary to what those fools thought, living forever was not really fun.

It was extremely lonely.

That was also the reason why he chose to move to New York, one of the most densely populated cities in the world. He liked being surrounded by people, but he hated their noise.

Well, he couldn't have it all, could he?

After living for over 15 centuries, he knew better than to complain.

That was life. You win some, you lose some.

Loriel looked outside the window again and forgot about his book. He rested his chin on his hand and watched the rain falling.

He remembered how much she loved the rain and said it smelled really nice.

"They have a name for it now," he whispered. "It is called petrichor, honey."

.

.

1] This part is inspired by the gossip about David Rockefeller who was said to have had 7 heart transplants before he passed away at 101 years old.