*Chirp—Chirp*
The morning was tranquil, golden light spilling across the garden, but its serenity clashed with the simmering tension in Kyorin's chest. He stepped out of the hut, basket strapped on his back, ready for his usual chore, but his eyes fell on Xia standing by the flower beds.
In her hands was a letter—a letter he had seen her send before. His eyes turned cold, his jaw tightening as he watched her fold it carefully, her fingers lingering over the parchment.
She noticed him and smiled, as if unaware of his growing resentment. "Good morning, Kyorin. Off to gather grass?"
He did not return her smile. His voice, calm yet edged with sharpness, inquired, "Mother, that letter," as he gestured towards the correspondence. "Was it from that man?"
Xia, maintaining her smile, replied, "Yes, it's from Lin Yung," just as Kyroin asked, "Did he ask for money again?"
Xia blinked, caught off guard, but her composure didn't falter. "It's good to help those in need," she replied softly, tucking the letter into her sleeve. "One day, you'll understand."
But Kyorin's patience snapped, and his voice rose. "Understand what? That you're wasting your kindness on a worthless man? He doesn't need our help. He doesn't deserve it!"
"Kyorin!" Her expression hardened, her gentle demeanour cracking under his harsh words. "That's enough."
"No, it's not!" he spat, his grip tightening on the basket until his knuckles turned white. "He abandoned us, didn't he? Left you to suffer! And now, you're sending him money? Do you think he cares about us? About you?"
Xia's hand trembled, her eyes darkening with anger she rarely showed. " Don't be like that, talking about things you don't understand, child."
"I understand perfectly!" Kyorin shouted, his voice trembling with emotion. "He's nothing but a selfish coward who ran away! A man like that doesn't deserve to be called my father!"
The slap came swiftly, her hand connecting with his cheek in a sharp, ringing blow. Kyorin staggered, stunned, his cheek burning from the impact.
Her voice, usually so calm and warm, was like ice. "Don't you dare speak of him like that again?"
Kyorin raised his hand to his stinging cheek, his ever so detached eyes now blazing with a mix of bewilderment and perhaps anger. "Why do you defend him? After everything he's done? After everything he put you through?"
Xia's chest rose and fell as she struggled to compose herself, but her trembling hands betrayed the storm within. "Because no matter what he's done, he is your father," she said, her voice breaking but resolute. "You don't have to love him, but you will respect that bond. Do you hear me?"
"Ha! Respect?" Kyorin's laugh was bitter. "Why should I respect a man who left us to fend for ourselves? Who betrayed you?"
"Because," she snapped, her tone trembling with suppressed emotion, "if you let that hatred consume you, you'll become just like him—a man who runs from his responsibilities, just because he refuses help. I won't let you grow into someone who abandons what makes you whole."
Her words struck deeper than any slap. Kyorin clenched his fists, his chest heaving as he fought the conflicting emotions churning within him.
"But..." Kyorin began, his words faltering under the weight of her gaze.
His mouth opened again to protest, but Xia's eyes narrowed dangerously, her anger and reprimand merging into one silent command as she pointed towards the gate.
"Out!"
For a moment, Kyorin hesitated, his heart warring between defiance and guilt. But her trembling frame and tear-brimmed eyes left no room for argument. Begrudgingly, he turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy as the garden gate creaked shut behind him.
Once he was gone, Xia let out a shaky breath, her composure crumbling. She pulled the letter from her sleeve, her fingers trembling as she stared at the familiar handwriting.
Her son's words echoed in her mind, but she pushed them aside. What he didn't know—what he couldn't understand—was that this wasn't about love or forgiveness. It was about doing what was right, even when it hurt.
Wrapping the letter carefully, she placed it into a small pouch alongside a modest sum of money. On the front, her neat handwriting spelt out the name of the recipient: Lin Yung
Just then, Kyroin's face flashed through Xia's mind. Although her son had shown no outward expression, Xia understood the depth of the hurt he was carrying. His silent pain was clear to her, and her heart twisted with the weight of it.
With a deep sigh, she picked up her pen and wrote one last note on the letter she was preparing to send. The words were sharp and final: "Don't ever ask for more again."
Despite her strong beliefs in charity and virtue, Xia couldn't ignore the suffering of her child. Kyroin's disapproval of her helping that man—his father—was a pain she couldn't overlook. She had always put others first, but now, in this moment, she felt torn between her ideals and her son's well-being.
Xia had never cared about wealth or luxury. The only thing that truly mattered to her was Kyorin. Her precious gem. The name she had given him—Kyorin, a name from her homeland that meant "The most beautiful gem".
She exhaled deeply, the frustration of the situation weighing heavily on her. Her morals told her to help the man—her former husband—but as a mother, she couldn't ignore what Kyorin needed. No matter how much she believed in doing good, she knew her son had to come first.
She was angry with him for cursing his father, for turning away from the man who had once been his parent. In her mind, it was wrong for a child to speak that way about their flesh and blood.
But at the same time, she realized that as much as she disagreed with Kyorin's words, she too had wronged him by ignoring his wishes.
"Both of us are wrong in this…" she whispered to herself, a tear slipping onto the table. She wiped it away hastily and, with renewed determination, rose to take the pouch of money to the village's main office.
As she walked, her mind still clouded with grief and guilt, a sudden thought broke through. "Yosh, to make it up to him… I'll make his favourite. Pork dumplings." The simple resolution felt like a small step toward fixing things, toward reconnecting with her son.
She headed to the market with a heavy heart, her eyes casting a glance toward the mountains where Kyorin had gone. "I hope he'll understand… He is an understanding child, after all…" Her words faltered as something deeper struck her.
'Wait… Since when did I become so complacent in my role as a mother? Taking advantage of my son's maturity?' Xia paused mid-step, the realization hitting her with the force of a cold winter breeze.
She clenched her hand, her knuckles whitening as an ache crept into her chest. She turned her gaze toward the distant mountains, where her son was likely trudging through the dew-kissed grass, collecting feed for the cattle. Her eyes softened, but the guilt pressing against her heart only grew heavier.
Her thoughts raced. Since when had she grown so complacent in her role as a mother, relying on Kyorin's understanding nature to justify her decisions?
Was it fair to expect maturity from someone so young, especially when his words—though harsh—were born of a pain he couldn't yet fully express?
Kyorin's words echoed in Xia's mind as she stood there, clenching her fist. He hadn't cursed his father out of bitterness toward the man. No, it wasn't about him—it was his frustration at the individual who had abandoned her.
Kyorin didn't care about being abandoned by his father; he had long since come to terms with that. But what hurt him, what made him seethe with anger, was the thought of the one person who had meant so much to her—the one she had once loved deeply—abandoning her without a second thought.
Xia's throat tightened as she realized the truth that had been so evident in Kyorin's words. He hadn't fought for his father's affection because he felt lost without it.
No, he fought because he had seen the toll that Lin Yung's absence had taken on her, and it had made him angry. Angry at the man who never appreciated the depth of her love. Angry at the one who had left her to shoulder everything alone.
Kyorin had never wanted the love of a father who had long since turned his back on them. What he had wanted—what he had always wanted—was for his mother to be treated with the respect and love she deserved.
"It seems I was wrong," she murmured, but a smile slowly formed on her face. "However, you are wrong too, my dear Kyroin. From the moment you called me, you became the one I adored most."
She wiped away her tears, glancing around the market as a distant rumble of thunder sounded. She quickened her pace, rushing to gather ingredients as the sky darkened, signaling an impending rainstorm.
--
Uphill, in a lush area where cattle grazed, a boy with navy hair and pale yellow eyes sat by the riverbank, cutting fresh grass. He looked up as dark, thick clouds filled the sky, marking the arrival of a storm.
'Hmm, I should head back before it rains,' he thought, squinting at the growing clouds, an ominous sense settling over him.
'I argued with Mother today,' he recalled, remembering an old saying from his past life: 'Bad weather after a bad talk is an omen of disaster.'
"NO!" he snapped, shaking off the superstition. He glanced at the basket of grass and decided, "This should do," before strapping it to his back and heading downhill.
Suddenly, a loud groan echoed—"Aughhhh!"
Kyroin froze, instinctively turning his gaze toward the edge of the forest. A masked man in a red cloak staggered toward him, groaning in pain. The man's presence felt wrong in the peaceful hillside, and the unease only deepened as Kyroin cautiously approached.
"Help," the man whimpered, his voice strained, his body swaying as if burdened by something invisible. His eyes met Kyroin's with a pleading look, but something was unsettling in their depths.
Kyroin's sharp gaze narrowed. The air seemed charged with an unnatural energy. His grip tightened on the grass basket, ready for whatever came next.
"What's the matter?" Kyroin asked, his voice calm, though tinged with suspicion.
The man's lips trembled as if struggling for words, then curled into a twisted grin. His eyes turned cold and predatory.
"Please," the man muttered again, but his plea had become darker and filled with malice.
A sinister flicker crossed his face, and his body jerked as he muttered a chilling word: "DIE!"
To be continued...
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A/N: Apologies I forgot to publish this it seems.