Chapter 75.
<strong>Chapter 75. Executing Operation, Codename: Date, Night. (3/3)</strong>
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haha, please stop teasing a child like me. A woman as charming as yourself would only see me as a snot-nosed brat.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Heheheh,” She giggled then blew me a kiss and said, “Here’s a kiss for the snot-nosed brat.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I tilted my head to the side making the motions of dodging out of the way.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hey, that’s not fair, you can’t dodge a blown kiss~”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I don’t ept charity, even if it’s from a beautiful woman.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hahaha, is that so~”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yes.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I see. I see. Anyway, I still haven’t forgiven you for taking my daughter away like this~ soooo~ that being the case, you have to make it up to me.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Make it up to you?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yes. Since your lie was exposed and you lost this round, you have to agree to my request.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What do I have to do for the forgiveness of such a benevolent woman like you?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Nothing too hard, you just have toe over with your girlfriend tomorrow and spend the night. Keep Aliciapany. That girl’s never bringing home any friends. I said it before but I want to meet her friends.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Stay over? You mean just Rosa, right? There’s no reason for me to stay over.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Sure there is, silly~ I want to see you and deliver an appropriate punishment for the bad boy ying around with two girls at once.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“A punishment? Uh… am I going to be chewed out or something?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“You could say that. I’m definitely going to put you through the wringer and put you in your ce a bit.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“That sounds a bit scary when you say that with a smile.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Anyway, when you bring my daughter back tomorrow I’ll be sure to give you both an earful. Since it’s already sote, I’ll save it for tomorrow. I’m seriously tired right now after worrying so much all night. My daughter is probably also really sleepy too if she’s been up for this long. Anything I say to her now will only go in one ear and out the other.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haaaah. Sorry for worrying you.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“It’s fine, as long as my daughter is safe that’s all that matters. Oh, right, one more thing. Try not to push my daughter down tonight and restrain those wild desires of yours, okay~”
<span style="font-weight:400">Before I had a chance to retort she disconnected the call.
<span style="font-weight:400">Haaaaah. It was seriously hard to deal with her.
<span style="font-weight:400">When I returned to the living room, both Rosa and Alicia were on the couch. Alicia had already fallen asleep face up on the couch. Rosa was on top of her with her face buried in Alicia’s chest, hugging her, and using Alicia’s chest as a pillow.
<span style="font-weight:400">Seeing them in such a state, I didn’t bother to wake them from their slumber. Instead, Iid down on the carpet and took the chance to do some writing. It was best to do so while the ideas were still fresh in my mind.
<span style="font-weight:400">With my back to the ground, I plugged my earbuds into my phone and selected a random song I liked, and had it y on repeat in the background. The title on the video was ‘「Nightcore」Numb ( Arc North, New Beat Order, Cour & Aaron Richards/Lyrics )’ It was an overly long title for just being a nightcore version of Numb by Linkin Park, but all that was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that it sounded good to me.
<span style="font-weight:400">A lot had happened today and it had inspired many different scenarios to write in my mind. I didn’t write the full thing out, only the core structure of events which I’d flesh outter in much more detail.
<span style="font-weight:400">It took an hour to write everything out. Only when I finished did I finally fall asleep to the song still buzzing in my ear on repeat. Sleeping on the ground wasn’t something I was unfamiliar with. It was something I was used to, starting from a long, long time ago, when I was still very young. I was still a toddler at that time in my life.
<span style="font-weight:400">It was inside a basement in another country my mother and I lived in for some time. Rats scurried about the ce and it was infested with cockroaches. There were always mosquitos to worry about as well. Even yellow jacket wasps from the nest which hung from the gutter on the side of the building’s roof paid us an asional visit in the middle of the night.
<span style="font-weight:400">There was always a strong smell of burning insect repellent in that dark room devoid of a single working light. During the boiling hot nights in that room, sweating profusely, the only form of relief was a single small fan turning and blowing hot air on us. I remember how I always saw a small, nearly unnoticeable, faint orange glow from the green coil that slowly burnt away and turned to ash in the middle of those long nights. That was the only thing to look at in the pitch-ck darkness of that room.
<span style="font-weight:400">We had a thin mattress t on the floor, but it could hardly be said to do anything. Sleeping on the hard ground felt the same as sleeping on that brick.
<span style="font-weight:400">I still remember the way my mother often had her back turned to me at night. Sometimes, her shoulders trembled in silence. asionally, she wept, all alone, but she never allowed the young child behind her to see it. If she fell ill, she had to deal with it. There were no breaks or days off for her. I barely got to see her. She was always, always, working herself to death during the day. Only at night did I see her sleeping in front of me, rarely did I see her during the day.
<span style="font-weight:400">There was a backyard as well right outside the basement. Well, the backyard there and here were twopletely different things. Here, someone’s backyard was well maintained and rather small. But in that country, the backyards were huge. Far from well maintained, the grass was tall, even taller than my mother, three or four times taller than me. Something like mowing thewn was a foreign concept in that country. Backyards were extremely dangerous. I still remember my mother’s warnings to never go into the backyard. There were scary things like hidden snakes big enough to eat a child like me whole, she said.
<span style="font-weight:400">Backyards were a scary ce. That was something I often thought, as a child. They were a mysterious region where an unknown world resided.
<span style="font-weight:400">Overall, I didn’t have many memories of those times in my earliest years of life, but I knew they existed somewhere at the back of my mind. Forever engraved into my body.
<span style="font-weight:400">To me, the term family was a sick joke. This was how my mother was treated by her so-called… family. The same could be said for the man I’d never seen once in my life.
<span style="font-weight:400">To me, they were all strangers. Evil, vile, and greedy creatures. Scary monsters wearing the skin of humans. Their smiles were all fake. Sinister. I was a tool. To control my mother. To keep her in her ce at the very bottom. A hostage.
<span style="font-weight:400">These were the sort of conditions she put up with every day she remained in that ce she called her home. She struggled hard to crawl her way out of that endlessly dark abyss.
<span style="font-weight:400">What I put up with in life amounted to nothingpared to her hardships.
<span style="font-weight:400">That was why I firmly believed I didn’t need others.
<span style="font-weight:400">Having others support you was a concept I didn’t understand.
<span style="font-weight:400">I don’t think I’ll ever understand such a thing.
<span style="font-weight:400">I went to a school there, it might have been equivalent to what a daycare here was. My memories were so vague and indistinct as a result of the very limited time I spent there, and I could hardly remember it.
<span style="font-weight:400">What I did remember... was by no means pleasant. Even at this ce where I didn’t need to see ‘family,’ I did not belong. I was an outsider. An outcast, someone thrown away by the country he’d been born in. Forcefully deported after <i><span style="font-weight:400">that person</i><span style="font-weight:400"> abandoned us without mercy.
<span style="font-weight:400">I didn’t belong to the country I was born in or my mother’s homnd. In my eyes, I had no home country, there was nowhere for someone like me.
<span style="font-weight:400">The first time I remembering to such a realization was inside that ce. Where other children would keep their distance from me and look at me like I was some sort of foreign out-of-ce alien.
<span style="font-weight:400">I’d keep my head down low, eyes glued to the ground to not have to see the looks in their eyes. As a child, I didn’t understand what was so odd about me. Only when older would I look back and realize it was something very simple.
<span style="font-weight:400">I didn’t look like them. The color of my skin was very light. Their skin was dark. It was that simple. Nothingplicated. There was nobody who looked like me there. Perhaps I was the scary monster to them. A freak of some sort.
<span style="font-weight:400">To me, at the time though, they were all the scary monsters. They talked differently, extremely fast, with thick ents that were hard to understand. Over time, I eventually grew ustomed to it by listening to the adults speaking and I could make out what they were saying. But I still never made any friends there or got close to anyone.
<span style="font-weight:400">Haaaah. But in the end, all these things are of a long-forgotten past that not even I fully remember. None of them matter to me anymore. I was numb to it. So very numb. These sorts of experiences shaped who I am today. There’s no point crying over things that don’t matter anymore.
<span style="font-weight:400">They’re all irrelevant.
<span style="font-weight:400">Everything.
<span style="font-weight:400">I don’t live there anymore.
<span style="font-weight:400">Those people are all as good as dead. I don’t even remember their names anymore. There’s no point in remembering worthless people I’d never see again. Even <i><span style="font-weight:400">that man’s</i><span style="font-weight:400">, I <i><span style="font-weight:400">never</i><span style="font-weight:400"> learned it.
<span style="font-weight:400">The only name I remember is my mother’s. It’s the only name I need to remember which makes things easier for me.
<span style="font-weight:400">While I subconsciously recalled such faint, fragmented memories of the past, I finally fell into a deep sleep.