As Renchy's world crumbled around him, his tears fell like rain as he knelt by the lifeless forms of James and Agatha. Their absence was an unbearable weight on his heart, and his anguished cries echoed through the stillness of the scene. His grief was a raw, unrelenting force that threatened to consume him.
Amidst the turmoil, a single thought occupied his mind: Julie. His frantic eyes darted around, searching for any sign of her presence. But as the seconds stretched into agonizing minutes, it became clear that she was nowhere to be found. Panic tightened its grip on his chest, and his racing heart mirrored his racing thoughts.
A movement in the nearby bushes caught his attention. His gaze snapped in that direction, fueled by a mix of desperation and determination. His eyes locked onto a figure, a man, attempting to hide within the foliage.
Anger, fueled by the overwhelming loss he had just suffered, surged through Renchy's veins. With a mixture of sorrow and rage, he rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving the man.
In an almost trance-like state, Renchy's instincts took over. He saw the glint of the knife on the ground near James's lifeless body and without a second thought, he seized it. The cold metal felt heavy and familiar in his hand, and he clutched it tightly. The surge of adrenaline gave him a newfound energy, his grief temporarily channeled into a singular purpose.
With his heart pounding and his mind a whirlwind of emotions, Renchy pursued the man through the brush. His steps were fueled by a volatile mix of anger, sorrow, and an unrelenting need for answers. He was a force of nature, moving with a determination that matched the storm of emotions within him.
The man's movement was slowed by the undergrowth, and Renchy's steps grew closer, his grip on the knife unwavering. In a swift, fluid motion, he hurled the knife with precision, its trajectory directed at the man's leg. The blade found its mark, and the man let out a cry of pain as he collapsed to the ground.
Renchy's breathing was heavy, his chest heaving as he approached the fallen man. The man's face contorted with pain, a stark contrast to the rage that simmered in Renchy's gaze. He stood over the man, his voice a mix of accusation and desperation as he demanded answers.
Renchy's grip tightened on the man, his fingers trembling as he ripped the mask away, revealing the face beneath. His heart pounded in his chest, and a chilling realization washed over him as the truth unfolded—the man before him was none other than his own father, the one who had abandoned him and his mother when they needed him the most. The shock of seeing his father's face mingled with a storm of anger and betrayal within Renchy.
As the perspective shifted to focus on the man's face, the weight of his confession bore down on Renchy like a heavy burden. The man's features, etched with lines of regret and guilt, held a haunting familiarity. It was a face he had longed to forget, a face that had cast a shadow over his childhood and now stood before him as a perpetrator of unspeakable acts.
Renchy's anger ignited like a wildfire, consuming his reason and unleashing a torrent of emotions he had suppressed for years. He didn't know whether to scream, cry, or unleash his fury upon the man who had caused so much pain. Without a second thought, he lashed out, his fists colliding with his father's face in a flurry of punches driven by a mixture of rage and hurt.
"Why? How could you?" Renchy's voice quivered with a potent mixture of disbelief and agony. Each blow he landed on his father's face was a release of the pent-up anger that had festered within him since childhood. He demanded an explanation, his voice a raw plea for understanding in the midst of the chaos that had consumed his world.
Amid the storm of Renchy's fury, his father's voice broke through, his words a harrowing account of the path that had led him down this dark road. The story spilled out like poison, revealing a descent into a world of criminality and manipulation. It was a tale of greed and desperation, of choices that had irreversibly altered the course of their lives.
As the man recounted the events that had transpired, Renchy's mind grappled with the horrifying truth. His father's involvement, after joining in a gang, his willingness to carry out heinous orders—it was a nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. And then, the revelation struck like a blade through his heart, as one day their gang had a meeting with the nobles of the city and the nobles are planning to kill all the peasants without a animal spirit and poor who can't afford living, by doing so the city will develop as they think and they found that a women was hearing the conversation the whole time and they were ordered to kill her, the woman they had pursued, the one who had met a tragic end, was none other than his own mother.
Robert : "The lady was running so fast, just like a rabbit and suddenly she was hit by a car and fall aside and as I reach there, my heart has fallen that she was your mother, then I wanted to save her that bloody noble aimed a gun at us and I had no choice(sobbs). I had to shoot her and with my gun and at that moment I taught that to shoot myself and that noble kicked her with leg again and again, I wanted to kill him, but I can't"
Tears blurred Renchy's vision as his father continued to speak, his voice laced with a mixture of sorrow and guilt. The details of that fateful encounter were etched into his memory, each word driving a wedge deeper between father and son. The heart-wrenching image of his mother's final moments, her last words echoing in the air, shattered Renchy's resolve.
Robert : " her final words are 'Renchy is at park, please feed him!', and she died in my hands and I took her locket as a memory."
The locket chain, presented as evidence of his father's confession, held a weight that Renchy couldn't bear. He stared at it, his vision blurred by tears, his heart torn apart by the gravity of the truth. It was a memento of a life he had lost, a connection severed by a man he had once called father.
Renchy's mind was a whirlwind of emotions as his father's revelations crashed down upon him. The locket clutched in his hand felt heavy, a physical manifestation of the weight of his past and present. The anger that had been simmering inside him erupted into a fiery blaze, consuming him.
"Why?" Renchy's voice trembled with a mixture of fury and grief. "Why did you have to take James and Agatha away? They didn't deserve this!"
His father's voice was weak as he struggled to respond, his words punctuated by pain. "I... I did it for them the nobles, Renchy. They thought it would keep them safe... keep us all safe, as he was a agent and investigating death of your mom and if he found out the truth of the plan of nobles, so they ordered us to kill him and his family."
Renchy's grip on the knife tightened, his fingers coated with his father's blood. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, his father's misguided intentions contrasting starkly with the devastation he had caused. With a fierce growl of anger, Renchy pulled the knife from his father's leg and drove it into his father's chest repeatedly, each stab a release of pent-up rage and sorrow.
Blood sprayed onto Renchy's face and clothes, painting a macabre picture of his descent into madness. His chest heaved with every breath, his cries a mixture of anguish and rage. As his father's life slipped away, Renchy's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—grief for the loss of his family, fury at his father's actions, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
Finally, as his father's eyes grew vacant and his breath ceased, Renchy collapsed to his knees, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. The knife slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground. He was left in the wake of his own violent outburst, surrounded by the consequences of his actions.
The realization of what he had done crashed over him like a tidal wave, and he looked down at his hands, still stained with his father's blood. He was no stranger to violence, but this act felt different—personal, intimate, and haunting.
With a heavy heart, Renchy wiped his blood-soaked hands on his clothes, the image of his father's lifeless body burned into his memory. He rose to his feet, his steps unsteady as he turned and walked away from the scene, his mind consumed by a single thought—finding Julie
As he ran through the forest , his heart raced with a mixture of fear and determination. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe. The echoes of his father's words resonated in his mind—the threat to Julie's life. He couldn't let another person he cared about be taken away from him.
The forest was a labyrinth of alleys and streets, but Renchy's desperation guided him. He had to reach her in time, had to save her from whatever danger she might be facing. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles burning as he pushed himself to the limit.
And finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spotted her—the red-haired girl he had come to care for deeply, the friend who had brought light into his dark world. Julie was ahead of him, her figure a beacon of hope amidst the chaos, she was lying on the ground and there are two men beside her who are burn to crisp.
His steps were slow, almost hesitant, as he knelt beside Julie. His trembling hands reached out, brushing against her cheek. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he turned her face toward him. Her once vibrant eyes stared blankly into the distance, her expression frozen in a moment of terror.
"No..." Renchy's voice cracked, a mixture of grief and disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had searched so desperately for her, hoping to find her safe and unharmed. But now, the reality before him shattered any hope he had held onto.
A wave of helplessness washed over him, the weight of his failures pressing down on his shoulders. He had arrived too late, unable to protect the one person who had shown him kindness and friendship. Anguish gripped his heart, a pain unlike anything he had felt before.
With tears streaming down his face, Renchy's gaze fell to the gift he had brought for Julie. He placed it carefully beside her, a final offering of his affection. The small box seemed insignificant in the face of the tragedy that had unfolded.
As he stood up, a numbness settled over him, his mind struggling to process the devastation around him. He took a step back, his eyes never leaving Julie's lifeless form. His fists clenched at his sides, his anger mingling with sorrow.
With a heavy heart, Renchy turned away from the scene, his steps heavy as he walked away. He didn't know where he was going, didn't know what he would do next. The city streets seemed to stretch out endlessly before him, a landscape of pain and loss.
And so, Renchy walked through the city, a solitary figure consumed by grief. His journey had led him through a tapestry of pain, betrayal, and tragedy. But amidst the darkness, he carried with him the fragments of the connections he had formed—the memories of those who had touched his life, however briefly.
To be continued...