Cyril walked somewhat blankly on a small path in the back mountain.
Environment, choice, escape, failure, God Clan, forgiveness, sacrifice, destiny, pleasure, waiting...
Several words flowed through his brain, yet nothing was left behind. It seemed only the instinct to move forward was controlling his body.
Forward, forward, and forward.
Until death.
"Ah!
"Classmate, classmate..."
"He is..."
"Who dares..."
"Be careful..."
"Doctor, doctor..."
"I know..."
Bright light shone on his cheek.
He slowly opened his eyes.
A white ceiling.
What happened?
An irritating noise appeared in his ears. He could discern that the noise came from different sources, most of which he was very familiar with.
Cyril turned his head to look at the source of the noise, and a very familiar face appeared in his sight.
Who is it?
Thinking seemed painfully slow for his brain.
Golden messy long hair, deep blue irises, elegant clothing, dark eye bags, ugly tear stains.
"Mother."
