…
From as far back as I can remember, the only thing a child feels is hunger.
very hungry.
Hunger was gnawing at his body all the time, and he never knew what it was like to be full.
He had always lived in a garbage dump, in a hole dug in that pile of garbage. The stench that was unbearable to others had become accustomed to him.
The stench seemed to have soaked into his body, blood, and his entire body, causing him to emit a disgusting stench from the inside out.
Everyone turned away from him.
But only then can he survive.
Only by staying in the rubbish heap can he grab those discarded cold food for the first time, so that he can fill his hungry stomach a little.
Only in the smelly garbage dump would those beggars taller than him not come to snatch the residence he finally dug out.
I can't remember how many times he'd fought someone else for a bit of food.
No matter how much stronger the opponent was than him, he never flinched.
Because he has seen people who starved to death because they couldn't get food, those ugly, shriveled corpses lying on the ground, no longer alive, a little rotting, giving off an unpleasant corpse stench, attracting vultures and mice to gnaw at them at the corpse.
He didn't want to be like that at all, so he wanted to live anyway.
How on earth does a skinny kid snatch food from those who are taller and stronger than him and keep himself alive
Ruthless, more ruthless than anyone.
In this place where the strong eat the weak, no one will help you, you can only rely on yourself. You have to be like a mad dog, even if your leg is broken, you have to bite a piece of meat off the other person fiercely.
He used to be beaten all over his body, but he couldn't let go, and he forcibly bit off a finger of the man who wanted to snatch his food.
That's how he survived.
He no longer remembers how many times he has been injured and how many times he has been in critical condition.
Once, dragging his broken leg back into a hole in a garbage dump, he had a high fever all day and night, and he had thought he was going to die just like that.
But maybe it was really a low life, and he just endured it.
A slum, the darkest and ugliest place in a city. They're a bunch of filthy beggars in that kind of place, where the rubbish gathers, where the city dumps its rubbish... Maybe they're part of the dumped, abandoned part themselves.
They only deserve to live in this putrid, dark place.
Occasionally, when he went out to beg from the slums, all he saw was disgust, disgust, and shy eyes. Even those so-called good-hearted people who would give him alms, looked at him with condescending and contemptuous eyes, like looking down at an ant.
Those people looked at him like they were looking at a humanoid garbage.
He didn't like the way those people looked at him.
…
Suddenly one day, his whole life changed.
Several well-dressed people who were unattainable to him found him, knelt at his feet crying, and called him an unfamiliar name.
They cried and called him, little master Heimos.
These high-level people who would not give him a glance when walking on the road in the past, call him master
At that time, he was stunned and a little overwhelmed. He couldn't react, and he could only stand there blankly.
"Heimos!"
There was a beautiful voice with a crying voice, and a good smell came oncoming.
The child raised his head and saw the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen. The woman trotted towards him, her face was excited, her eyes were filled with tears, and she seemed to want to hug him.
When he met the woman's eager eyes, he felt that his chest was also filled with something, and it became hot.
The woman's footsteps stopped abruptly at the moment when she was about to approach him.
The hand that was going to reach out to him got stuck halfway, retracted to block the lower half of his face, and covered his nose.
He saw a familiar look in the woman's eyes.
disgust.
What he had seen in the eyes of countless people, he saw again in the eyes of this woman who made his heart beat at this moment.
At this moment, the chest that had been warmed up sank, became cold, and became warm again.
When he calmed down, he saw clearly and understood.
Those who knelt in front of him, looked at him with flattering eyes, and seemed to call his little master respectfully, also looked at him with a deep disgust in their eyes that they tried to hide.
He thought that it was no different.
These people, this woman who claimed to be his mother, that person, those people, whoever they are, are the same.
All people are the same.
…
… … … …
The boy suddenly opened his eyes from the darkness and woke up from the dream of the past.
It was dark all around, and it was night, and only a faint moonlight came in through the window and shone on his side cheeks.
The body is heavy and hot.
The feeling of hard work he hadn't felt for a long time... but somehow familiar.
When he was very young, when he was just a humble little beggar who everyone could beat and trample, when he was dragging his bruised body and lying in the hole dug by the garbage, his whole body was hot , burned unconsciously.
… and now it seems to be back to the past.
He struggled to support his heavy body, and big drops of sweat slid down his hot chin and onto the sheets.
He tried to shout twice in a hoarse voice, but no one responded, no one inside or outside the house.
Unsurprisingly, it's just the usual way of holding up and stepping down. Anyone with a discerning eye can see that King Camos's favored brother is the child, and he is just a dispensable gift.
He took a breath and rolled out of bed.
He was hot all over, so hot that he needed cold water.
Heimos shook his weak body and slowly walked outside.
However, his body was so weak that he couldn't recover. Just as he walked to the door, his vision suddenly darkened, he couldn't hold it any longer, and he suddenly fell forward.
"Wow-?"
A loud shout, of course not from Heimos, who fell to the ground and lost consciousness.
The one who shouted was Garland, who was almost smashed by Heimos, who had just walked to the door.
… dodging slowly.
Garlan, who was knocked down and fell to the ground, thought.
Really entangled with the look in Heimos's eyes before he left, he asked the servant about Heimos's residence. At night, he pretended to sleep on the bed, and after all the maids had left, he sneaked through the window and ran out.
He thought that when he got to Heimos, he had to sneak through the window, but when he saw that there was no servant, only the gatekeeper was still dozing, and he slipped in effortlessly.
As soon as he ran to the door, he suddenly saw a figure slamming down on him.
Garlan instinctively shrank back, but he still didn't have time to dodge completely. The boy who fell to the ground knocked him down. Now, the boy's head was on his thigh.
What is this doing
Garland, whose legs were pinned down, was inexplicable. He stretched out his hand to push, but when his hand touched Heimos' head, he was stunned.
Very hot.
Heimos's face was hot to the touch.
By the moonlight, he saw that the face on the other side's leg was flushed red, like a fire, no matter how he looked at it.
Looking at it again, the scars on Heimos were only roughly cleaned, and they were not cleaned up at all. The boy's body was bruised and purple in the moonlight, and his face was blushing, looking a little shocking.
Therefore, you will never change your temper, which will only save face and suffer for life.
Seeing that I'm not happy, why don't I give you the ointment? Wasn't you the one who suffered in the end
If I hadn't run over to you on a whim tonight, maybe you'd be mentally retarded this night.
Thinking so unhappily in his heart, Garlan got up from the ground. It was cold at night, and he already had a fever. Continuing to let this person blow in the night wind would only make it worse. Garland, who was trying to bring Heimos back into the house, grabbed an arm of the burned-out boy and tried to stand him up.
As soon as it was pulled, let alone the frame, it didn't even move.
Garlan looked at Heimos, who was lying on the ground, who was a head taller than him, and then looked at his small arms and legs.
Well, I can't pull it, I can't stand it up, I can't move my back.
He thought about it.
Okay, let's put it off.
With that in mind, he did just that, grabbing Heimos's hand and starting to drag him around the house.
Heimos is thin, so it is reasonable to say that he will not be very heavy, but he has a big frame and looks like he has a lot of muscles in his thin body. For a seven or eight-year-old child who has not exercised since he was a child, even dragging it is difficult. I can't.
Garlan almost exerted his strength to suckle, and at the speed of a snail, he dragged Heimos into the house little by little.
As soon as he entered the room, he gasped and looked at the half-meter-high bed and was dumbfounded. He can drag Heimos, but it is impossible for him to pick this guy up and put it on the bed, right
… and many more.
Why did he, a child, drag Heimos into the house and put him on the bed with his own hands
He just ran out and called someone to come over.
The child who finally turned his head around scolded himself for being stupid, then turned his head and ran towards the door. As soon as he ran to the door, he clicked something hard under his feet.
The hard thing was kicked out by him, slammed into the door, and rolled back.
Garlan looked down, and the moonlight shining in from the door reflected on the thing that rolled back under his feet, and a cold silver light reflected in his eyes.
It was a silver dagger with no cumbersome decoration on it. It should have fallen from Heimos when he dragged Heimos into the door.
He leaned over, stretched out his hand to hold the sharp silver blade, the cold air penetrated into his fingers, and his hand was cold.
In the depths of the spiral concave pattern at the junction of the handle and the blade, a faint trace of dark red can be seen, indicating to people that this bright silver dagger is not a decoration, but has actually seen blood, as if it can feel a little bit. The evil spirit seeped out from above.
Garlan was half-knelt on the ground, staring blankly at the dagger in his hand.
The moonlight shone on the dagger, casting a sharp light on his side cheeks, causing the edge of his golden iris to reflect strangely.
… something stirs in my heart.
That evil spirit seemed to penetrate deep into his blood through his skin, making his blood agitate at this moment.
He turned to look at Heimos beside him.
The still young and childish boy was lying on the ground, beside him, his body was hot, he was unconscious, his face was burning red, his mouth was slightly open, and he was gasping for breath. Sweat flowed down the young man's slender neck, the tips of wet black hair stuck to his neck, and even a little sweat oozes from his chest, and the slightly reddish honey-colored skin reflected a moist luster in the moonlight.
Heimos lay there, opening his chest, revealing the most vulnerable neck, without the slightest resistance.
Garlan clenched the cold dagger in his hand, his heart beating violently at this moment.
As if there was an invisible force from the abyss bewitching him, an invisible voice screamed in his head.
Now.
It's now.
All he had to do was pierce Heimos' heart with the blade—
The guy who killed him four times—
This boy who might kill him again in the future—
As long as he does it now—
The moonlight was like water, falling on the half cheek of the child kneeling on the ground.
The child bowed his head, his soft blond hair was shimmering, and the skin on the side cheeks reflected in the moonlight was like snow.
His fingers gripping the silver dagger in his hand tightened so hard that his knuckles were bloodless.
There was a dead silence in the night.
In this terrifying stillness, Garlan suddenly raised his dagger—
With a clanging sound, the silver-bright dagger was heavily pressed to the ground by him, making a harsh sound of metal and stone rubbing against the ground.
The child who slammed the dagger to the ground raised his other hand, and without warning, slapped himself heavily with a slap.
This slap was so hard that after a slap, you could see the reddish finger prints on the delicate skin.
Garlan knelt on the ground with his hands on the ground, gasping for breath.
The blond hair was scattered messily in front of his wide-open eyes, the child's face seemed to have just broken free from a nightmare, sweat was oozing from his forehead, and his pupils were trembling slightly.
He gasped for breath, and after a while, he calmed down.
Garlan stood up, turned and walked over to Heimos, then bent over and crouched down again.
He half-kneeled beside Heimos, pursed his lips, stuffed the silver-bright dagger into Heimos' waist, and tied it tightly to Heimos's belt.
As if unloading a big rock, he let out a light breath and stood up.
You have to call someone right away.
He thought so.
But just as he was about to stand up, a hand suddenly stretched out and grabbed his wrist—