Chapter 128: The Kind of Love That Waits
[ Our dear son,
Are you... Okay now? Did you calm down and... get better? Did you find what you were searching for? And...
Sorry, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I had to write, even though I promised not to. Please don’t be angry with me.
Right, are you eating properly? And on time? Are you sleeping at reasonable hours? Have you made friends at the new academy? Is it good? Are they treating you nicely? Are you keeping warm yourself?
Don’t forget to drink your medicine for your nightmares too - ask the academy’s healer to prepare the same blend we used at home.
And please, don’t tire yourself by studying all day and night. I know how stubborn you are.
Please, dear... be gentle with yourself, even if you think no one else will be.
And... we won’t do ’it’ again. You can do whatever you want but please... come back home. I really missed you. We all missed you.
And please, don’t exchange your life and happiness for us. Although we are happy that our son has grown up, we still want you to be truly happy. And...
We... we can solve this, everything, together.
Can you come during the vacation?
So we can discuss everything, like a family again?
Your mother. ]
"..."
The letter trembled slightly in my hands as I finished reading. The paper smelled faintly of chamomile. I could almost see her sitting at that worn wooden table back home, the quill shaking in her fingers as tears blurred the ink.
For a long moment, I just sat there, rereading each line.
The warmth in her words—the frantic worry in every question—settled in my chest like sunlight after a storm.
She’s alive. And she’s exactly how I imagined she would be.
A mother. My mother.
My thumb traced the smudged ink where her tears must have fallen.
Even without memories, I now knew this woman.
Knew the way she’d fret over meals and sleep schedules, the way she’d remind me about medicine like clockwork. The kind of love that asked for nothing but her child’s well-being in return.
Then my eyes caught on the first lines again.
Are you okay now...
A frown creased my brow.
"Was I ill or something?" I muttered aloud. The words tasted foreign. "And searching for something...?"
The questions spiraled in my mind, but I forced them down. Without memories or any useful clues, chasing shadows would only drive me mad.
Still, one thing was clearer now: it was probably me who told her not to write before. The realization sat heavy in my gut.
Why?
Had we been... estranged?
Was I... some ungrateful brat who’d pushed his family away?
I shook my head, scanning the letter again. Her mention of my studying habits contradicted that—no spoiled child pulled all-nighters for exams. The pieces didn’t fit, and without the full picture...
A dry chuckle escaped me.
At least one thing was certain—my nightmares weren’t new.
And was this the "illness" she referred to in the beginning? It actually made sense. And of course she’d known. Mothers always did. Most of them.
And, the medicine she mentioned... Could they really help me? Although I was getting used to them, it would be better to treat them even a little. But I don’t exactly know about the medicine. So...
Guess I will take a visit to the infirmary or hospital.
My gaze lingered on her plea: "Be gentle with yourself, even if you think no one else will be."
Sorry, Mother, I thought, folding the letter carefully. If I’m always gentle with myself, I’ll never get strong enough.
But still... Thank you.
My fingers tightened around the paper as I reread the next lines:
"And... we won’t do ’it’ again. You can do whatever you want but please... come back home."
A fresh frown creased my brow.
What exactly was ’it’ ?
The next sentences painted an even vaguer picture—"Don’t exchange your life and happiness for us."
Wild theories sprouted in my mind:
Had I wanted to do something reckless? Something they’d disagreed with so strongly they’d locked me away? And in response... had I run away?
The pieces fit in a twisted way. A rebellious son, desperate enough to flee. Parents left behind, regretting their harshness.
But the letter’s tone didn’t match that story.
No anger, no accusations. Just... guilt and worry.
"We can solve this, everything, together."
My thumb brushed over the words. Nothing about this was simple.
With a slow exhale, I folded the letter and tucked it into my inner pocket. The paper rested against my chest like a second heartbeat.
Guess I need to adjust my plans.
The thought of going back alone sent an unfamiliar prickle down my spine—not fear, but something sharper. Anticipation? Hesitation? I couldn’t describe it.
I should tell Master.
A wry chuckle escaped me. If Virion accompanied me, I wouldn’t have to worry about dying suddenly even before returning. The snake could probably level a kingdom if it felt like it.
And maybe...
My mind flickered to Zephyr and Aeron. But I shook my head almost immediately.
Zephyr would never leave Luna unattended, and asking them would be a battle on its own.
As for Aeron...
He was still unawakened. An ordinary person. Dragging him into potential danger—especially when this was clearly a family matter—would be inappropriate.
This was my past. My mess to untangle.
The snow outside my window swirled in eddies, white against the deepening gray of twilight.
Family.
The word felt heavy.
And yet, a quiet warmth settled in my chest as I pressed my palm over where the letter.
For the first time since waking up in this world with no memories, the hollow ache of something missing finally eased.
The word resonated within me like a long-forgotten melody.
With a deep breath, I stood up and retrieved my bag, and put the letter into my [Inventory] with a thought, safely tucking it away.
Outside, the snow had lightened, leaving the academy grounds blanketed in pristine white. The cold air bit at my cheeks as I stepped out, but I barely noticed.
My feet carried me back toward the library almost on their own. There was still work to do—training to endure, poisons to resist. Zephyr should be waiting.
The familiar scent of old books and ink greeted me as I pushed through the heavy doors. Luna glanced up from the counter, her eyes curious as usual. I merely nodded in greeting before heading toward our usual corner.
Sure enough, Zephyr was already there, the portal ready.
As I entered the lab, my eyes landed on the spread-out vials and herbs on the table. His sharp gaze flicked up as I approached.
"You’re late."
"Got held up with Aeron," I said simply, taking my seat across from him. "Swordsmanship training, you know."
Zephyr studied me for a moment longer than necessary, as if sensing something had changed. But he didn’t press. Instead, he slid a small vial across the table—a new toxin to build resistance against.
I picked it up, rolling the glass between my fingers. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, a pale green that promised nothing pleasant.
"Is this the one?" I asked just in case. This has become a habit after that silly mistake.
"...Yes." Zephyr replied.
"Alright, let’s start then," I said, taking my usual position.
For the first time in weeks, the thought of enduring another round of poison training didn’t feel like just another step toward survival.
It felt like progress.
Toward strength.
Toward answers.
Toward home.
I uncorked the vial and drank.
Wait for me, mother.