"Dad, it's your turn to cook, by the way."
Nathan threw himself onto the sofa in their house and muttered. Eric's house was significantly larger than every other house in the neighborhood, but its messiness was still on par with that of an average Lostburg citizen.
Most of the time, Nathan was the one cleaning the house, but over time, he had grown lazy and left everything as it was. They had taken turns cooking each day ever since Nathan learned how to at a young age.
Eric grunted in reply and headed for the kitchen. "Steak today, cool?"
Nathan lifted his head from the sofa and frowned in confusion. "How come we get to eat meat every single day? Where do you even get your money from?" He had asked similar questions before, but Eric had never given him a serious reply. Let alone the fact that his dad had no visible source of income, meat itself was extremely rare in Lostburg—practically a resource that money couldn't buy. "Come on, Dad, I'm turning 16 next week. You don't have to keep everything hidden from me anymore."
Eric paused and lowered his head slightly. "It's hard to explain. Are you really that desperate to know? Isn't having meat to eat good enough?" His words were blunt, but his tone remained as gentle as ever.
Nathan scratched his head and sighed. "I'm just curious. You know I've always suspected you're someone important in disguise. Are you, perhaps, an aristocrat undercover in Lostburg?"
But Eric simply stepped into the kitchen without turning back, leaving only a few lazy words behind.
"You can say that if you want."
Nathan tried to respond, but no words came out. He hadn't expected such a reply.
In his understanding, aristocrats lived the best lives Runalond had to offer. Stepping down to live as a filthy citizen of Lostburg seemed unthinkable—unless there was a reason. Or perhaps… he had been forced to.
Nathan leaned toward the theory that his father was an aristocrat who had been stripped of his position and banished to Lostburg, though he had no evidence to back it up. Millions of questions suddenly swirled in Nathan's mind. Was his mother related to this? Who was his father's enemy? And most importantly…
Would they ever regain their position? If they did, would Nathan himself become an aristocrat?
Listening to the sound of cooking coming from the kitchen, Nathan fell into a deep daydream about what the life of an aristocrat might be like. In his heart, he silently vowed never to forget the people and experiences of Lostburg. If he ever came to power, he wanted to change things.
Even though Lostburg wasn't as bad as everyone thought, children still deserved the right to choose their own destiny. If they wanted to study Rune Arts, they should be able to pursue it.
Time passed, and Nathan's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his father calling him to dinner.
He shook himself out of his reverie and slowly stood up from the tattered sofa. Only after he sat down at the dinner table did he realize he wasn't hungry at all. He found it ironic that he could eat so well when others in Lostburg were starving.
In their house, there was an unspoken tradition: neither of them talked during dinner. Normally, Nathan was quite talkative with his father—they were more like friends than father and son. But at dinner, it was a silent ritual for both of them to reflect on the day and focus on eating.
Nathan quickly ate half of his steak and stood up. "I'm full. Guess I'll take a walk outside. The weather's nice tonight."
"You sure you don't want the rest?" Eric asked, looking up from his plate. When Nathan shook his head, Eric smiled contentedly. "Guess I'll finish it myself."
Nathan grinned and headed for the door, but before he stepped out, Eric suddenly called to him.
A strange tightness rose in Nathan's chest—a mix of excitement and anxiety. He didn't know why, but he felt as though his dad was about to tell him something important. His suspicion grew as he saw the seriousness in Eric's expression.
He had never seen his father look so resolute, as if he had made a difficult decision he'd been putting off for a long time.
"Nathan, what's your dream?" Eric asked, his voice emotionless. His words felt hollow and distracted. Seeing the confusion in Nathan's eyes, he added, "Or rather, what do you think your purpose in life is?"
Nathan froze, furrowing his brow, then broke into a bitter laugh.
"What are you on about, Dad?" He shook his head with an awkward smile. "Dreams? Do we Lostburg citizens even have the right to dream? And as for the purpose of our lives—well, we're born, we live, we die. That's pretty much it." After finishing his sentence, Nathan noticed the light in his father's eyes dim slightly.
Quickly, Nathan added, "But hey, come on. This isn't all that bad, is it? We don't need a purpose or a dream to live. Just being alive is something to cherish." Slowly, though, his voice grew quieter and less confident, as if realizing something was wrong with his statement. He quickly lifted his head and continued.
"But if you really want an answer… I guess I do have a dream."
Eric's body trembled slightly as he locked eyes with Nathan. "What is it?" His words were slow and gentle, but to Nathan, they carried far too much weight.
"I want my life to be different," Nathan replied. The last ray of sunlight faded behind the horizon, but his hopeful eyes seemed to shine in the darkness. "I want today to be different from yesterday, and tomorrow to be different from today."
Eric paused, then murmured, "So… you want your life to be better?"
Nathan shook his head.
"I'm happy with the life I have right now. It doesn't need to be better—that's not what I'm asking. I just hope my life can be more adventurous, a bit more interesting. Maybe I'll regret it in the end, but I want a life full of ups and downs, not just a smooth, straight line."
"So no, not necessarily better. Just different."
Suddenly, Nathan remembered his daydream before dinner. Without thinking, he added a few more words.
"And if possible, I hope that could apply to anyone else who chooses it, too."