Chapter 23: Cure
"Blake," a warm female voice echoed, calling for her son.
"Blake, my sweetie," she followed, her whispers bringing comfort.
Her hand slowly caressed her child, an action that contrasted sharply with their surroundings.
The room was a mess, and the mother's face was bruised.
Behind her, a man could be seen exiting through a door with his luggage.
The mother spoke again.
"Since your father is not here, you'll have to be the man of our house from now on."
The boy was confused but nodded at her to please her.
"Uhm."
Despite the pain splitting his lips, he managed a smile as he gazed at the man's retreating back. His eyes bore into him, embedding each detail deep within his memory. Beneath this intense scrutiny lay a world of fearsome thoughts, their depths unknown.
And just like that...
Time quickly flew by.
After her husband left them, the mother was alone in raising her child.
Working continuously, her hands began to form calluses, and her skin peeled off. Yet, she always wore a smile for her son despite the ordeals she faced.
After all, his smile was her own medicine.
She poured her heart into every endeavor, from celebrating her son's birthdays with joyous zeal to managing school tuition payments, all in her quest to be the best mother possible.
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Until that day came...
It was a usual day for the mother and son duo. Blake's mother who was sitting in front of their table murmured quietly.
"Hah... How will I budget the money for his upcoming birthday..."
When suddenly,
"—Mama, I'm done"
Blake finally got out of his room wearing his school uniform.
The woman then finally stood up from her seat and also fixed her wrinkled suit.
"What kept you, sweety? Well, come along now, let's get going,"
As she responded, the little boy also nodded while smiling.
Quickly, the two of them exited from their room and went inside a car.
However... On that same day, in the shadowy confines of a sparsely lit room, a man perched on the edge of his bed.
Beside him, a blonde girl sobbed quietly, her tears spilling onto the blood-stained bedsheet between her legs.
Quiet sobs escaped the woman's lips, her tears a steady stream as she battled to contain her anguish.
Meanwhile, the man remained indifferent to her pain, treating it as though it were merely routine.
With a slow, lumbering motion, he rose to his feet, his hand seeking solace in the familiar embrace of his drink. The haze of alcohol still clinging to him, its numbing effect yet to wear off.
"This is damn good!" The man exclaimed, savoring his drink.
Wetting his lips, he called out, "Hey, you lot, get in here and take care of this woman's need I don't wanna hear a single cry coming from her anymore," his voice suddenly booming.
Without delay, two men in sleek black suits entered the room.
"Right away, sir," they responded crisply as they covered the crying woman with a blanket, while the man responsible for it all just slouched against his couch.
His thoughts were muddy, soaked in too much whiskey, each one slipping away before it could fully form. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the scent of alcohol mingling with the dank, musty air.
Suddenly, his phone rang.
—Ring!
—Ring!
Reaching out for his pocket he took out his phone and answered.
"Yo"
The man uttered in a sluggish tone.
"Hey man, we're having a party right now and there's a new chick here."
Behind the phone spoke a man in his twenties.
"Hooh?" The drunk man let out an interested sigh while at the same time, a picture of a girl was sent to his telegram.
Checking out the picture, the man couldn't help but let his eyebrow twitch.
"Kekeke... She's beautiful, right? You should come, it would be fun as hell"
The man behind the phone followed before their conversation ended.
As he was left with silence the man's eyes then focused on one thing.
Above the glass table was a fine white powder lined neatly on a small, mirrored square.
With a ragged breath, the drunk man straightened up, a surge of adrenaline cutting through the fog of his inebriation. He leaned in, the sharp, acrid tang of the drug pricking his nostrils before he even took a hit. His heart hammered in his chest, pounding out the rhythm of his fraying nerves.
He rolled a crisp bill, tightened his grip on it, and brought it to his nose. With a deep, desperate inhale, he drew the line of powder sharply into his system. The immediate rush was like lightning, electrifying his senses, blowing away the alcoholic haze, and replacing it with a fierce, burning clarity.
The transformation was stark. He felt his back straighten, and his eyes sharpen. The world seemed to hold still for a moment, the shadows and light starkly defined. It was a brief, illusory escape, but in that fleeting moment, he was invincible.
A slow grin spread across his face as he gazed down at his hands.
"Kuhahaha Kuhahaha," he bellowed with laughter, then dashed outside like a madman.
"Sir!" a man in a black suit called out as the drunken figure sprinted past, but it was too late; the man was already in his car.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he tossed his bottle beside him and ignited the engine, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
—Broom!
The car screeched at full speed, tires squealing against the asphalt.
He slammed his hand on the horn, his voice cutting through the clamor as he yelled at the other drivers on the road, "Get out of the fucking way! Bastards! I have somewhere to be!"
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At that exact moment, on the opposite side of the road, a mother and her son traveled in serene silence, each moving steadily towards their separate destinies.
While driving, the mother cast a smile at her child in the rearview mirror when she heard the boy.
"Mama," Blake spoke.
"What is it, sweetie?" she replied, quickly focusing on the road.
"You look beautiful today," the boy replied with a giggle.
"Oh?"
The mother chuckled quickly, her grin spreading to the corners of her eyes.
"What's going on with you today, sweetheart? Have you eaten something, or maybe there's something you've done that Mommy doesn't know about?" the woman playfully spoke.
"Hmm," but her son only pouted his lips.
After a prolonged pout, he slowly moved to the front of the seat, looking like a toddler crawling, which the mother found cute.
"Um?" She let out a questioning gasp, curious as to what her son would do when he suddenly opened his bag and searched for something.
Then...
"Tada! Hehe," the boy celebrated while holding a chocolate wrapped in paper adorned with multiple hearts.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Mama," the little boy followed, his smile plastered wide.
His cute voice echoed inside the car.
While the mother couldn't help but inwardly melt at her son's actions.
"Wow!" She exclaimed, her voice almost hoarse.
She couldn't help but widen her smile even more.
But she was curious as to how he got money to buy such chocolate.
"Where did you get the money from?" She questioned, and the boy quickly replied.
"I earned it, Mama. My classmates let me draw for them, and they paid me, hehe."
Hearing such an answer, the woman let out an impressed gasp.
"Wow..." She was genuinely impressed.
"You might as well become a businessman in the future at this point," she continued before moving her other hand to touch her son's cheek.
"Thank you, Blake."
She then gazed deeply into his beautiful red eyes.
However, at that moment, she heard a loud horn coming from a car.
Her response was swift; she immediately looked around, thinking there was something wrong.
But then, in the blink of an eye, a car in front driving carelessly at high speed immediately put a frown on her face.
She tried to turn, but it was too late.
—CRASH!!!
What followed was a loud clanging of metals and glass shattering.
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Inside the crashed car, a man drooling emerged, his bloodshot eyes visibly shaken as blood dripped from his forehead.
"Hick!" He kicked his door as he slowly got out.
"What the fuck! Can't you see I'm driving?" he shouted, despite his injuries, but he was stumbling as he walked.
His pupils dilated as he quietly cursed.
"Ahhh, my fucking booze! it's gone..."
Limping, he approached the car that was turned upside down.
—Bang!
He kicked the door as he spoke.
"Hey, are you alive? You better pay me up because that booze cost me more than your life,"
However, as he kicked, he quickly fell to the ground because he couldn't maintain his balance due to how much his head was spinning.
"Man... These fucking morons really!!!"
He gritted his teeth, and while he was lamenting, he suddenly could hear a woman scream inside the car. His kick was the reason the woman inside woke up.
"—Blake! Blake! Where are you???" Blake!"
The woman shouted at the top of her lungs.
Inside the car, she continuously grasped for her boy because she
couldn't see.
Because her eyes...
—Were the first ones to get struck by the shattered glass.
Even though the pain burned in her eyes as she could sense a metallic taste on her lips and a liquid flowing on her cheeks, she persisted in looking for her son even though the pain was excruciating.
Her cries were so desperate because of the thought that her son could be dead.
Fortunately, at that moment.
"Ma...ma... It hurts."
She could finally hear her little boy's voice.
"Ma... It's so painful."
The woman was relieved; however, hearing her son's agony at the same time broke her even more.
She quickly reached where the sound of her boy was coming from, and when she could feel him, she quickly realized her boy's state.
"Somebody! Help!!!"
She shouted as she could feel a liquid coming from her boy.
"Someone!!!"
She cried as her boy also cried.
Outside, multiple vehicles stopped by, and people quickly helped them as they heard their pleas.
Meanwhile, the man who kicked the mother and son's car forced himself to stand, stumbling, his senses dulled by a cocktail of alcohol and drugs. One person tried to help him, but he shouted at him not to touch him.
"Don't you fucking touch me, you lowly creature!"
As sirens wailed in the distance, the man's first instinct was to call his father, his cracked phone trembling in his hand.
"Father... Help me... Hick!" he stammered, the alcohol slurring his words.
The phone was quickly picked up on the other end by none other than a powerful and well-connected businessman, a man with extensive ties to local politicians and law enforcement officials.
"Tsk! You damn fool! What have you gotten yourself into this time?" his father barked through the phone, his fury palpable yet tempered with swift assurance that he would handle the situation.
After the son explained his situation, the father sighed heavily a sound of weary frustration, "Don't do something stupid again, or else I'll cut you off from the money you so desperately depend on for a month, you worthless scoundrel." With those stern words, the call ended abruptly.
With a sense of entitlement that had always shielded the drunk man from the consequences of his actions, leaned against a nearby tree, his mind hazy with intoxication. The flashing lights of approaching emergency vehicles barely registered as he sank to the ground, his eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion.
As the ambulance arrived, paramedics rushed to tend to the injured, but the man remained oblivious to their efforts. His head lolled to the side, his breaths shallow and irregular as he succumbed to the sedative effects of alcohol and injuries.
As the man drifted into a fitful sleep, his father's network of connections worked tirelessly to shape the narrative, casting doubt on the circumstances of the crash and deflecting blame away from the man. Legal experts were summoned, evidence was scrutinized, and backroom deals were struck, all in the name of protecting the family name and reputation.
In the end, the man's father orchestrated a carefully crafted plan to shield his son from the full extent of the law. Settlements were negotiated, legal loopholes exploited, and media coverage carefully curated to paint the drunk man as a victim rather than a perpetrator.
And so, as the man lay unconscious on the ground, the wheels of power and influence turned in his favor, ensuring that he would once again escape the consequences of his reckless actions. It was a testament to the corrupting influence of wealth and privilege, a stark reminder of the gaping disparities in the justice system.
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Months had passed since the crash, but the consequences were still painfully present in Blake and his mother's daily life. Once a vibrant and independent woman, his mother was now blinded, her world forever altered. Her career had ended abruptly, her sight stolen in a moment of reckless irresponsibility by a man who drove under the influence and walked away unscathed by the legal system.
Blake and his mother learned through terse updates that despite clear evidence of the man's culpability, he faced no meaningful legal repercussions. Rumors swirled of bribes and pressure applied by the man's wealthy family, tainting the investigation. Settlements were whispered about, money changing hands in shadowy corners of the legal system, ensuring that the man's life continued with barely a hiccup.
Their own struggles were compounded by towering medical bills and the loss of income. Each day was a battle against despair, fought with the bravery of a boy too young for such burdens and a mother whose resilience was tested beyond its limits.
Their life had become a stark divide between before and after the crash. Before, filled with hope and simple joys; after, shadowed by hardship and the bitter taste of injustice. The community's support was a small comfort against the cold back of a system that favored the wealthy and powerful.
One quiet evening, Blake found himself seated in the stillness of the room, his gaze fixed intently on his mother. A deep frown marred his face as he looked at her, his expression one of sorrow and pity. Slowly, he pulled out an article he had saved from a newspaper, now creased and worn.
There, it featured a photograph of the man who destroyed their lives his name was—Thomas Weldon at a social event, wearing a carefree smile.
"..."
The little boy's finger then traced the outline of Thomas's face, a gesture not of curiosity but of a much sinister and darker cause.
Meanwhile, his mother, sensing her son's shift in mood, asked him gently, "What are you thinking about, Blake?"
"..."
However, Blake didn't respond immediately, his eyes still locked on the man's picture.
In his gaze, there was no confusion of a frightened child anymore. Instead, there was a dark, simmering storm of emotions far too complex and harsh for someone his age.
"I'm just thinking, Mom," Blake finally said, his voice low and steady.
As he spoke, his eyes did not waver from the image of the man who had changed their lives forever. In those eyes, a darkness flickered. There, in the quiet of their lessened world, Blake's youthful features were shadowed by a resolve that was both heartbreaking and terrifying.
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‹ Blake ›
A name I will never forget...
I mean... How could I? It was a name that was given to me by my mother...
However, I am and will always be a piece of shit in my past life which I'll never be able to change.
But... Now that I'm given a chance, would I waste this moment?
My answer is no, I'd much want it if my actions bore fruit to relieve me from the guilt.
That's why I'm helping Arianna.
‹ It's to relieve myself from the guilt of killing an innocent girl... ›
And because... She reminds me of my situation in the past... Where no one could help us.
She brought to mind the image of my mother's anguished expression, her face etched with despair as her blindness confined her to the hospital, rendering her unable to work. And I, just a child then, felt powerless, unable to do anything to ease her suffering
"..."
Sighing inwardly, I soon focused myself on the present.
After I had asked them about Arianna, I immediately ordered them to travel where she was. And that included the one who healed me.
'Analeigh'
Beside me in this carriage was Mary while the one in front of me was no other but the red head girl.
‹ I'm not ignorant of who she is in the game... Analeigh, the wealthiest character in the game ›
Not gonna lie, but I'm surprised to encounter her so early...
If I were to tally the years, within just four short years, she would ascend to become one of the wealthiest individuals to ever grace this world. However, within the confines of the game...
She was a...
'Villainess'
Well, not entirely, because she can be at your side. So I consider her as being in the gray area.
However, because of her wealth in the game, she can be quite useful, especially her influence, and also a pain in the ass if she ever turned against you.
With that in thought, "So you were the one who healed me" I suddenly spoke, my tone devoid of any emotions while my face maintained poker. Well, I couldn't help it, it's because of Alfonso's ego affecting me.
Slowly gazing into Analeigh's eyes I continued.
"Allow me to express my thanks for saving me, I shall pay you back with gold later on, perhaps even more,"
With that response, Analeigh slightly bowed and thanked me in gratitude, "Thank you, it's my honor, young lord"
Before she followed an enquire, "However, why are you in such a rush Young Lord? Your injuries are yet to fully heal"
Hearing her, I completely understood why. After, resting for just a day, I'm now working my ass off. However, I must act stubborn because I've already fully healed cause of the system and time is worth more than gold.
"I am fully healed" I cooly stated.
"..."
After that, a deafening silence ensued before Analeigh let out a cough.
"Cough! I understand Young Lord"
With that, their annoying plea stopped. Even Mary kept repeating for me to rest but I disregarded her.
Well, she must have understood that whatever I have sat my mind to, I will not be stopped.
Slowly, I turned my head and gazed through the window.
Sinking in my own thoughts.
‹ Pertaining to the money... How should I deal with it without using this body's family gold... ›
I closed my eyes in deep contemplation.
"..."
A few minutes passed, and only there was I able to get an idea.
‹ !!! ›
Inwardly, I chuckled.
‹ The knowledge from earth can be useful for this, ›
Unbeknownst to me, we had already arrived at Arianna's residence, guided there by Analeigh who was acquainted with the young commoner. It wasn't just familiarity that led her; being a resident of the area herself, the redhead practically knew every corner of it.
Before long the three of us stepped out of the carriage and were immediately greeted by the sight of a weathered wooden house, its age apparent in its worn appearance.
Beside our carriage, we also stood another carriage where Valentina and Christine resided.
Looking in their direction, I unexpectedly met Valentina's gaze, her eyes locked on me.
"..."
After a brief second, I swiftly turned my head, disregarded her, and continued our way to Arianna's house.
Observing the house. In front, I could see a pot being cooked... No, seemed like hours have passed already.
"Hmmm..."
I quietly murmured as I moved forward while the people behind me just quietly followed.
Suddenly,
"—Father, please stop"
A little girl's shout resonated inside the house. Making Valentina and Mary who was behind me rush forward.
Even Kevin followed but seeing him made me want to slap his fucking face.
As they barged in, I swiftly followed, and inside what I saw was a thin man, devoid of flesh, pointing the edge of the knife at his throat while his daughter—Arianna pleaded to stop.
Her face was now completely soaked in tears, seeing such a sight I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and at the same time disgusted. However, I suppressed my urges and moved further forward.
As the group that had entered called out, urging the father to halt, his gaze suddenly locked onto mine.
"!!!"
Despite not meeting him before, in the spur of the moment, his eyes widened and he whispered as if he knew me.
"Hero?"
Confused, "Huh?" I let out a frown.