Years ago, there was a boy who was incredibly stupid. He was so stupid that he wanted to appear stupid. Because of this, he gained many friends, even though he was hiding his abilities.
His mother constantly reminded him not to show his abilities to anyone outside of his family who already knew about that.
From birth, the "stupid" boy had been a problem because he lacked common sense. For his first five years, he was confined to the house, never allowed to go outside. He knew, however, that it was for his own good.
He also felt strange about himself. Even without wanting to, he unintentionally used his abilities, damaging property around the house.
When he was angry, he felt like destroying things, and they would shatter as he wished, his eyes unconsciously turning red. When he was sad, he wanted someone to comfort him, and without realizing it, he'd create a statue in the image of one of his family members, his eyes turning blue. He realized then that his emotions were causing him to lose control of his abilities.
His desires always manifested. He was happy, but sometimes it brought misfortune.
One summer day, his father came home from work, drenched in sweat from his black suit. The boy tried to help by grabbing his father's suit and running to his mother, trying to deliver it despite his small four-year-old frame.
When he returned to his father, he saw him fanning himself with his hand, trying to create a breeze. His father looked so sweaty that the boy felt sorry for him and wanted to help.
He believed that his ability could be used for good, so he controlled the wind around him, directing a powerful gust towards his father.
However, his actions caused his father to be thrown off the couch, along with the surrounding furniture, crashing into the wall with a loud thud. Several objects shattered, including a glass table, sending shards flying across the floor. His father, who was trying to get up from the fall, sustained several cuts from the broken glass.
His mother rushed to his father's side, while the boy stood silent, unable to speak, his eyes wide as he stared at his own hands.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"It's not your fault. You just wanted to help. But please, try not to use your ability again," his father said that night when the boy came to apologize.
From that day on, the boy stopped using his abilities and started controlling his emotions to prevent them from erupting uncontrollably.
Especially since he knew he would be starting school soon, like other children.
He waited for his parents to cancel their plans to send him to school. He wanted them to give up on that hope, not for others, but for his own mental well-being. He didn't want to cause chaos and involve them in his actions. He hoped for it every day, ready to give up on school.
However, his father still enrolled him, and his mother even threw a celebration for the occasion.
"Mom, can I not go to school?" the boy asked a few days before his first day.
"What? Why?" His mother looked surprised.
"I... I'm scared," he said, trying to hold back the tremors in his body and the sadness in his heart, his face expressing deep depression.
His mother looked at him with pity but smiled and said, "I'm glad you're worried about your abilities."
"Ah... No, I mean... I'm lazy about going to school!"
"Why are you lazy?"
"Because it seems useless."
"You're lying to your mother, aren't you?"
"Eh? No! I'm serious!"
"But you said you were scared first."
"I was afraid you'd get mad. S-so I tried to lie by acting scared about my abilities."
Hearing his son's answer, his mother smiled, then bent down, cupped his cheeks, and said, "You're a clever child. For the past year, you've started to control your abilities, haven't you?"
"B-but..."
"So, you really are a smart kid. Your future is bright. I, as your parent, wouldn't allow my child to miss out on what you deserve."
"But..."
The boy could only say "but..." because he wanted them to give up on that hope, but deep down, he still desired it.
He was caught in a dilemma, unsure of what he truly wanted at that moment. So, he could only dodge the issue without insisting on his mother's agreement.
Ultimately, his mother managed to convince him that everything would be fine, which brought him some temporary relief.
"Brother, good luck!" said a five-year-old girl named Maria.
Maria was that boy's younger sister.
The boy smiled, but he knew that Maria's words were the result of his mother's coaching. Maria seemed to have been born solely to encourage him. It made him realize how pathetic he was, needing encouragement from a younger girl.
Still, he smiled and played with his sister, though he didn't feel happy. He had closed his heart for so long that it became increasingly difficult for him to understand his own feelings.
The boy began to see the world through a theoretical lens, not through feelings or actions. Everything that happened seemed like a formula that could predict someone's next move.
He tried to be smarter, stronger, and better in every way, in every place, at every moment. Unconsciously, he became a living supercomputer, existing only to appear perfect.
However, one thing bothered him since his transformation, his emotions slowly disappearing. He knew they hadn't vanished, but he could no longer understand how to feel or identify them. He had become a human who acted according to what he should do, not according to his own desires.
He knew he wasn't fully in control of his abilities, forcing himself to the point of ignoring his own emotions for the sake of perfection. His eyes never showed any color other than gray.
But one day, when he was in third grade, he saw his sister, who was in second grade, being bullied by six girls he didn't even know.
For the first time in almost three years, he could finally feel his emotions with certainty. Without realizing it, his eyes turned red.
It didn't take long for him to unleash his anger. In just four seconds, all the children who were bullying his sister were knocked to the ground by a powerful gust of wind from above. They fainted from lack of breath, and the situation became chaotic.
Torn clothes were no longer a problem. The fear of death overshadowed everything else. The boy didn't realize he had become a nightmare for some of the people in there right now.
That boy's name was William Harrington, a walking disaster who tormented by his own gifts.