《The Romance Of Misery》


 Chapter 1 :

    Moving through the misery of winter, one step in the mud, the other in water. Where? Nowhere¡ªjust trudging toward the unknown, accompanied by the biting cold wind of harsh weather. His only protection was a worn, torn rag for clothing.


    His limbs were so thin like sticks barely holding him up. His face resembled more of a skull than a face, with skin stretched tightly over bone, giving him a hollow, gaunt appearance.


    "What was my father calling me? Oh yeah, My Breeze... what a funny name. To be called ''gentle wind'' while only cruel winds follow me wherever I go," he muttered, trying to warm his hands with his breath.


    Walking for days to the Bastion that he thought he would never reach, eating a few bites of stone-like bread, barely enough to calm his hunger, after a few hours he noticed an extensive bastion in the distance. His eyes gleamed with hope.


    "Maybe I can find some work there and a roof to sleep under," he thought with a miserable smile, his heart full of fragile hope. Breeze stepped toward the gigantic walls, but life was nothing like the expectations of a young boy.


    After walking a great distance on a rough road full of mud and water, he was denied entry by the guards stationed at the gate.


    "Hey kid where did you come from and how are you still alive?" the guard asked in surprise.


    "My father who used to work outside died out there and left me alone. He usually takes me with him but this time a monster killed him and I escaped."


    "A Mo... Mon...Monster? Where?"


    "It''s a few days away from here on feet."


    "Ehem, I don''t remember seeing you before. Why didn''t you go back to where you come from? I can''t accept you here without identification of your father at the very least."


    "But I can''t go back there, where should I get Identification from?"


    "It''s none of my business, but if you truly want to enter pay me enough and I''ll let you in."


    "But sir, I don''t have any money on me, and I have nowhere to go. Can you find it in yourself to let me in, please?"


    "Shut up, brat! I can find nothing in myself. I''m just a hollow shell, empty inside, like every miserable bastion guard anywhere in the world. Letting you in could get me fired at best, and beheaded at worst. So, can you find it in yourself to pay me or leave."


    Breeze stared at the guard for a couple of seconds, then turned his eyes to the towering walls. Taking a few steps back, he said, "At least you''d die painlessly. For me, it will be slow and torturous. Ah, you say you''re a hollow shell? Well, at least you''re speaking metaphorically. For me, I am hollow¡ªliterally. I won''t make things harder for you; I''m leaving."


    Breeze walked a few dozen meters away from the gate and sat down on a tree trunk.


    The guard returned to his post, angrily cursing his luck for encountering such a jinx early in the day. "Tsk, That''s why I hate those rat-like beggars. They think they are the only ones suffering in this chaotic world."


    Hearing him from afar, Breeze didn''t even have the energy to feel angry, but still, the guard''s hypocrisy found its way to agitate Breeze''s heart.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "I know each person has their difficult circumstances in life, but never compare your life with an orphaned homeless kid," he muttered to himself.


    The guard went back to his group complaining how that silver-tongued little kid was hard to handle.


    "Come on, don''t exaggerate. He''s just a kid who stopped drinking his mother''s milk yesterday. He doesn''t know how the world works or understand the hardships we face. He has no clue how fearsome the nobles are. We''d like to let him in, but our families would be eradicated the moment we do," another guard responded.


    "Yeah, maybe you''re right. But do you think any boy can survive outside the bastions? Not even a grown man can do that, let alone a kid who looks under 10, especially on his own."


    The guard shuddered, watching the young boy from a distance.


    "Eek! That gives me the creeps. Is he a monster?"


    "STOP TALKING NONSENSE! He''s obviously just a kid¡ªa forlorn one with nothing left but a rag for clothing," another guard with a raspy voice interrupted, his tone filled with sadness.


    Breeze paid no attention to the guards. He pulled out a piece of bread from his bag, waiting for anyone entering or exiting the bastion to notice him or take pity on him or, at worst, to beg for shelter. He was, in every sense, a beggar¡ªa walking skeleton with tattered clothing, messy hair, and nowhere to call home. The cruelty of the world wasn''t what shocked him; it was the cruelty of his kind. "How can people see me like this and not help? Are we really of the same kind? All I want is a place to sleep, I didn''t ask for the impossible," he thought, not realizing he was indeed asking for what was nearly impossible in this world. While he was knowledgeable in a lot of fields, he was still a kid and didn''t know how hard life could be.


    Unfortunately, only one group of hunters passed by, and they didn''t give the boy a second glance. Surprisingly, Breeze remained silent, not uttering a word of pity. His appearance spoke for itself as if he had surrendered to his inevitable end. Time seemed to crawl, each second feeling like an eternity in the biting cold. Anyone with a roof over their head, a warm bed, and hot meals should be thankful. Night fell, bringing with it a bone-piercing wind. It wasn''t anything new for the boy, but tonight he had forgotten to prepare himself, overwhelmed by his hopelessness and forgetting his father''s teachings.


    He shivered uncontrollably, his teeth chattering loud enough to be heard from afar.


    "Ahh, I''m so exhausted. I want to sleep, but my father told me never to sleep in situations like this. Sniffle... but I want to sleep so badly... just five minutes, father, please." Breeze struggled to hold back his tears, but in the end, he gave in to the urge to sleep.


    A brief moment later, he felt a blanket wrap around him from head to toe, and a warm clay pitcher of milk was placed in his hands. A large, bearded man sat beside him.


    "You''re a tough one, little boy. Can you delight my ears by telling me your name?"


    "I''m Breeze¡ªa little breeze in the face of a tyrannical storm(life)."


    "Yeah, I guessed it right, a name that is pleasing to hear. And believe me, my young friend, a little breeze can grow into a storm."


    Breeze remained silent, drinking the hot milk.


    "So, my young friend, can I, as your friend, hear your story?"


    Staring at the huge guard, Breeze replied, "You''ll have to pay to hear my story. Nothing is free, even for a friend."


    "Oh? And how much to hear it?"


    "Equal to letting me enter."


    Laughter echoed through the cold winter air, making the other guards raise an eyebrow.


    "Hahaha! I like how smart you are, my little friend. But don''t you think your story is worth more than the entrance fee?"


    "Well, I''m not giving a detailed story anyway."


    "Oh, so this is a mini version of it. That''s fine, let''s hear it first."


    "It started when I tur...".


    .


    .


    A few moments earlier, atop the bastion walls, several guards were watching the tragic scene below¡ªwhere a young boy fought against the deathly cold weather with little hope.


    "Ahhh, curse it all! If I can''t help a kid as a grown man, I''ll be damned. Jarr, give me that blanket¡ªI''ll warm up some milk."


    "But Jackal, it''s too risky. You could be punished if the higher-ups find out," Jarr protested.


    "I trust you and the others won''t report this. Even if you do, I''ll take the punishment."


    With that, Jackal opened the gate slightly and went straight to the boy.

 Chapter 2

    "It started when I turned 3 years old. That''s when I became aware of what was happening around me. Before that, I don''t remember much¡ªjust some foggy memories. My father and I moved from place to place, without any specific destination. Whenever I asked him where we were headed, he''d always reply with the same phrase: ''We are walking the path of life until death catches up with us.'' Even though we were poor, my father never asked anyone for anything. He worked during the day to feed us both, but there was never enough left over to rent a room or find shelter. Sometimes we slept in the open, and other times in stables when we were lucky."


    "And you? What did you do while your father worked?"


    "I helped him with small tasks when the work was light. But when it became too heavy for a kid, I''d stand aside and revise the lessons my father had taught me the night before. He always finished work at sunset. We''d eat a little something, and then he''d begin teaching me a variety of things."


    "Oh, so your father was a knowledgeable man. What did he teach you?"


    "He taught me how to read and write, how to do basic math, and a bit about the world."


    "This father and son are truly remarkable," Jackal muttered, barely audible.


    "Really?! That''s an incredible kind of father you have there! It must be a great source of pride to have someone like that."


    The boy corrected him: "You mean had. Yes, he was my pride. Even though he''s no longer here, he was a gift I''ll be eternally grateful for."


    "I''m sorry, my friend. I didn''t mean to reopen old wounds."


    "It''s fine. He died just a few days ago. It''s not an old wound to be reopened; it''s a fresh one."


    Jackal, trying to dry his wet eyes, responded softly, "Your father gave you knowledge so you could stand on your own." Then he added, trying to lighten the mood, "But out of curiosity, what kind of knowledge about the world did he teach you? Can you teach me too?" Jackal asked curiously.


    "That''ll cost you a lot of gold," Breeze replied with a sly smile. "Better not ask; I doubt you can afford it."


    "Gold? I''ve never even had the honor to touch a silver coin in my life! Could your father have been some kind of sage?" Jackal questioned in bewilderment.


    His facial expression twisted as if saying "Are you being serious right now? Are you trying to rob me or something?"


    "To clear things up, my father was barely 25 years old. Yeah, I''m serious and I''m no robber."


    "What kind of knowledge could a man that young have? Did he teach you how to read minds or something?"Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "No, but your face is easy enough to read," Breeze said, smirking.


    ''Was I really that obvious?'' Jackal wondered.


    "So your father was younger than me, huh?"


    Breeze looked shocked. "What?! What do you mean? Of course, he is. You''re obviously an old man, probably double my father''s age!"


    Feeling a bit offended, Jackal replied, "That hurts, kid. I''m 30 years old. My almost-white hair and beard are from a life full of stress. Your father may have been poor, but I bet he was happier than I''ve ever been. That''s probably why I can''t even find a wife. Every woman I approach thinks I''m too old! Spitting some nonsense like ''Have some shame, old man, You''re my grandfather''s age! Go find yourself a grandma to wed!'' To hell with that! I''m still young, handsome, and charming!"


    Breeze stared at Jackal for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I''m sorry! Pfft!"


    Seeing the boy laugh so innocently and purely, Jackal couldn''t help but smile. He waited until Breeze had calmed down before asking, "You haven''t told me: how old are you, Breeze? And how did you end up here alone?"


    "Well, Mister..."


    "Call me Jack, or Jackal¡ªwhatever you prefer."


    "Alright. I''m nearly 9 years old. As for how I got here, as I mentioned, my father and I had no place we called home. We traveled from one place to another, and one day, while we were on our way to nowhere in particular, my father died. I still don''t understand what happened. We encountered a Monster. He faced that monster and killed him while I escaped on my own..." He kept silent for a moment, feeling as if he would burst into tears if he spoke another word. He took a deep breath and then continued. "After that, he followed my trail till he found me and was full of wounds. We continued our journey but to my shock the next day he dropped dead."


    "I really like the ideology and his way of life. He raised you, taught you, and in the end, he gave his life protecting you. Look at yourself, for a boy your age, you seem incredibly mature. But I''m curious¡ªhow did you survive out there with all the monsters around all those years with your father? Surely you weren''t traveling alone without a caravan and mercenaries?"


    "Hardship makes kids grow up faster. As for your question, sometimes we''d join caravans as porters; other times we traveled alone. This is between you and me, though; no one else should know. My father knew how to evade monsters, and he was skilled at dealing with them, so we always made it safely to the bastions."


    "Wow, that''s quite an accomplishment to boast about! Did he teach you those skills?"


    Breeze gave a half-truth: "I always relied on my dad for those things." While he didn''t lie, he also didn''t reveal everything. Despite his young age, Breeze was already a survival expert, but as his father had taught him, he chose not to show all his cards at once. He remembered his father''s words: "Never lie, my Breeze. And when you find yourself in a tough spot, give the bare minimum of truth, accompanied by a bit of acting to mislead the other person."


    The two continued chatting until Breeze eventually fell asleep. Jackal stayed by his side through the night, placing a small pouch of coins inside the boy''s blanket before heading back to his post just before the shift change.


    When the sun rose, casting golden rays that warmed the cold land, Breeze woke with a start. The small pouch of coins fell to the ground. He stared at it for a moment before quickly grabbing it.


    "It must''ve been Jackal who left this. I''ll never forget his kindness," he whispered.


    With that, Breeze stood up, walked to the gate, paid the guard to let him enter, and passed through into the city. He marveled at the neatly paved streets and the medieval-style architecture, with houses built from stone and dark wooden beams, plastered with wattle & daub and topped with timber-framed upper floors and slate roofs. In the distance, he could see a huge stone castle where the nobles lived. He spent most of the day searching for work, only to be shooed away like a mangy dog. Exhausted, he stopped to rest and sat on a wide staircase with three long steps. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine as he noticed someone sitting next to him.

 Chapter 3

    Breeze sat quietly on the wide stone steps, the weight of rejection pressing heavily on his small shoulders. The cold wind still lingered in the air, nipping at his face, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure sitting down beside him. He shivered for a second, knowing with certainty that there was no one sitting there a moment ago.


    He turned his head and was met by the sight of an old man, ragged and worn, with long, unkempt hair and a beard streaked with gray. The old man was known in the city; people mockingly called him "The Captivating Sage," but Breeze sensed something different about him.


    The man looked straight ahead, seemingly unaware of Breeze''s presence. After a long pause, the old man spoke, his voice low and raspy, as though he hadn''t used it in days. "Being pathetic is a blessing here," he muttered. He then handed Breeze a bottle of juice. "Want to take a sip? You seem thirsty."


    "Ah, thank you," Breeze replied. He took the bottle, gulped a mouthful, and handed it back.


    ''But old man, I''m not being pathetic and penniless because I like to,'' Breeze thought to himself.


    He furrowed his brow, stroked his chin while looking at the ground, confused by the cryptic words. He turned to ask what the old man meant, but by the time he did, the man had already stood up and shuffled away, disappearing into the streets. Breeze sat in silence, mulling over the strange comment. Why would being pathetic be a blessing? Was the man mocking him, or was there some truth hidden in the rambling?


    "Don''t mind whatever he says to you. This old man is really crazy. I remember listening to his advice one day, and I nearly got myself into serious trouble. They call him the Captivating Sage¡ªhis words are sage-like, coupled with his looks, which captivate your attention, making you think deeper and deeper about the meaning of his words. If no one warns you, you''ll think you''ve stumbled upon a hidden big shot or something. Just take my advice and forget anything he told you," a passerby advised him.


    Shaking off the confusion, Breeze refocused on his task: finding work. The next few days were a blur of disappointment. He knocked on doors, visited shops, and approached anyone who seemed like they might offer a job, but his ragged appearance and hollow cheeks repelled most people. They shooed him away with annoyed glares as if he carried the plague. One or two people suggested he try working at the local taverns, but Breeze knew better. Drunken men were nothing but trouble, and he had already seen enough chaos that stemmed from their revelries.


    The city, though clean and neatly organized, was full of people with hearts as dirty as the gutters. Stinginess ran deep in the veins of its citizens. Only a few, the poorest among them, offered Breeze any kind of help¡ªa crust of bread here, an old piece of fruit there. It wasn''t enough to survive on, but he accepted their kindness with gratitude. Ironically, those with the least were the ones most willing to give.


    Even the children of the city weren''t spared from the cruelty that seemed to infect everyone. They mocked him from behind the safety of their parents, pointing fingers and calling him names as if they somehow knew they''d never be in his shoes. Breeze felt the weight of their scorn but said nothing. His father''s voice echoed in his mind, reminding him to endure and observe rather than lash out. But that didn''t help him completely endure the mockery of kids his age and younger, especially when he was in a situation imposed on him. He didn''t want to live in such conditions¡ªit just happened like that. All he could do was cry silently. Being a kid without a shield to protect you was truly the hardest thing.


    A week passed, each day bleeding into the next with little to show for it. Breeze was starting to lose hope when he finally stumbled upon a cowshed in need of help at the corner of the vast bastion. The work was dirty, and the smell was far from pleasant, but Breeze didn''t care. It was a job¡ªsomething to keep him going. The owner was a gruff man, but he didn''t ask too many questions. Breeze was small, but his hands were capable, and that was all the man cared about.


    It wasn''t a popular job, honestly, and came with a bit of risk. The animals in general were huge. The cows, for example, stood nearly 3.5m (11.48 ft) tall and had bodies over 4.5m (14.76ft) long. If one went berserk, you''d be lucky to end up with just a broken hand, leg, or ribs¡ªmost cases ended in death. The funny thing was that the pay didn''t match the risk of the work, but what could a poor boy complain about? It was good enough just to find a job.


    There had been an opportunity to work at one of the martial arts halls in the city, but Breeze remembered his father''s warnings: "Never get involved with the rulers or anything related to them." His father''s voice rang clear in his mind, and Breeze knew better than to disobey, no matter how desperate he became. The rulers'' influence spread like a shadow over the city, and Breeze had no intention of stepping into their world.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    As the days passed, Breeze settled into a routine. He spent his mornings and afternoons at the cowshed, working quietly and without complaint. The owner began to notice the boy''s diligence. As the weeks turned into months, he started to like Breeze more, providing him with extra food and an increase in his meager salary. Breeze worked harder than anyone else in the shed, earning the respect of the other workers and the owner alike. Despite the hard labor, he felt a sense of pride in his work.


    Evenings were a different story. After a long day of labor, Breeze would retreat to a small corner of the shed, peeling away the bandage he kept tightly wrapped around his belly. Hidden beneath was a book¡ªthe only thing his father had left him. His father had warned him never to open it unless his father died. "I''ll teach you everything you need to know while I''m alive, and if I die, you can''t read it on your own until you feel that you are ready to keep your mouth in check," he had said. But now, with his father gone, the book represented a world of knowledge that Breeze could not access.


    Every night, after finishing his chores, he would take out the book and gaze at its worn cover, feeling both a longing and a heavy weight of responsibility. Then, he wrapped it again with the bandage against his belly. The book was written in a language his father had taught him, one that Breeze had never seen used anywhere else in the world. It contained sixteen chapters, each with fifty pages, followed by two hundred blank pages at the end. His father once told him that the book was a family inheritance, and each lineage had to write two chapters until the "promised day." Breeze didn''t know what would happen on that day, but he knew that chaos would befall the world.


    A year passed, and he didn''t even read a single word due to exhaustion from the long days of work.


    But he remained diligent, determined to honor his father''s memory by mastering the words his father had entrusted to him. First of all, he had to build a strong body so he could resist the fatigue of relentless toil. Only after that could he concentrate on reading the book. It was filled with stories, knowledge, and insights that felt like fragments of a world beyond his own. He tried to read one night, but he couldn''t focus. The information was too important, but his mind was half asleep. He stopped, telling himself, "Nothing will change by being hasty."


    As the months passed, Breeze became more skilled at his work. He found himself looking forward to the day he could start reading his book, but also to the warm meals the owner provided. Each bite filled him with hope and energy, pushing him to work harder the next day. The cowshed became a haven for him, a place where he could forget the cruelty of the city and focus on his growth.


    One evening, after a long day of hard work, he felt strange. His body wasn''t feeling like usual. "I may have pushed myself too hard these days," he thought. "But with each minute that passes, I can feel my temperature rising. Forget it, probably after a full night of sleep, I''ll be okay." He prepared his sleeping spot and fell asleep almost instantly.


    In the stillness of the night, Breeze started sweating non-stop, as if a cascade was running down his body. He woke up achingly, with tears falling from his eyes. He didn''t know what was happening but didn''t want to cry loudly, fearing the cowshed owner would find fault with him. He had struggled to find this job, and if he made a mistake that disturbed the cows, he''d probably be fired. So, he endured¡ªendured and endured the pain until dawn. When everyone woke up and started working, his fellow workers found him curled up in pain. Some tried to help him, while others went to inform the owner.


    The owner came as fast as he could, and when he saw the young kid in that condition, he raged and started yelling.


    "SICK! ARE YOU SICK IN MY YARD?! YOU DARE BE SICK HERE! THROW HIM OUTSIDE NOW! AND NEVER EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING BACK HERE!" Then he added, "If one of my cows gets infected or harmed in any way, I''ll be sure to hunt you down. What a waste of all that food I gave you!"


    Breeze couldn''t breathe easily, let alone reply. The workers, pitying him, carried him out of the yard.


    "Sorry, kid, we''re really useless in a situation like this. You''re on your own," they said and left him near a clinic, hoping someone would help.


    An hour later, the doctor passed by, ignoring him completely¡ªor not quite ignoring, as he called a bulky man to throw the "corpse" away from his clinic, worried it would ruin his reputation.


    Thrown from place to place like trash, Breeze ended up near a trash can. Feeling pathetic again, not even able to move on his own or push away anyone who threw him, he cried loudly at the humiliation.


    Then a young girl, who was throwing out the trash, heard the sound of a child crying. She approached him, trying to ask if he needed any help. Noticing her, Breeze mustered all his strength and yelled, "ENOUGH! STAY AWAY FROM ME! I''M NOT TRASH SO YOU CAN THROW ME WHEREVER YOU WANT. AFTER THROWING ME FROM PLACE TO PLACE, WHAT''S WORSE THAN A TRASH CAN¡ªA MONSTER''S BELLY? LEAVE ME ALONE!" His cry echoed in the young girl''s ears.


    She kept silent for a moment, then approached him and carried him to her house. There, she gently laid him in the bath and began undressing him. She noticed something wrapped around his belly, peeled it off, and set the book aside. Breeze couldn''t even move to stop her. She gave him a cold bath to lower his body temperature¡ªit felt as if his body were a scorching ember. After the bath, she dried him off, dressed him in one of her loose, soft dresses, and placed him on her bed. All this happened, and he couldn''t even move a finger.


    Then the girl quietly left the house, leaving him alone.

 Chapter 4

    Breeze opened his eyes after a few hours of deep sleep, still unable to move a muscle. He felt throbbing pain all over his body.


    ¡°Argh, this is really torturous. I think I could die any second, but I can¡¯t understand why all this pain. Did I get infected by a deadly disease? Or is it a side effect of that thing I ate? All I can move are my eyes and my heavy mouth. What¡¯s the difference between me and a corpse?¡±


    As he thought about his miserable condition, the door opened, revealing a young girl with sand-colored skin that seemed to gleam softly, reminiscent of sunlit dunes in the desert, giving off a warm aura, as though relaxing under the golden sun. Her hair was dark brown, perfectly synergizing with her skin, and her light blue eyes completed the picture. Breeze was fascinated by the girl, who seemed only a few years older than him. She wore a white dress that covered her entire body, yet it didn''t conceal her athletic build.


    ''Wow, who is she? Where am I? What should I do? No, no, no...'' He felt complicated emotions like never before. It was his first time feeling something like this.


    Relax, Breeze. Even though you didn¡¯t interact with girls before, you can still handle this situation.


    Trying to think rationally, he began organizing his thoughts. First things first, I need to know the situation here. Who is she, and why did she help me? But the main question now is: Is she living with her parents or married? My neck¡¯s future depends on the answer. Most girls get married young to avoid causing problems for their families. No, no, no¡ªthat¡¯s impossible. She¡¯d bring disaster upon herself if she brought a strange person into her home, showered him, dressed him, and laid him down in her bed. Anyway, I need to learn everything about her before taking another step.


    He drowned in his thoughts, forgetting that he was still just a kid who was incapable of moving at the moment, which was his biggest problem.


    Breeze noticed the girl had a bit of developed muscles and admired her strong yet balanced physique. No wonder she carried me with ease back then, he thought. Staring at her, he momentarily forgot his aching muscles, but when he snapped out of his reverie, he groaned briefly.


    ¡°Argh...¡±


    ¡°You seem to be in a bit of pain, huh? It¡¯s probably caused by the lack of movement. You¡¯re in the same position I left you in since the morning. Let me massage your muscles; it might relieve you a little.¡±


    Without hesitation, Breeze responded, ¡°I¡¯d be grateful if you could.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s my pleasure,¡± she replied with a warm smile.


    She started massaging his body, beginning with his feet, and then working up his calves and thighs. Breeze felt refreshed as her fingers moved. She continued to his lower back, then to his shoulders, hands, and neck, making sure not to leave a single muscle untouched. Breeze felt as though he had been reborn, with the pain fading away, but his paralyzed limbs remained still. He didn¡¯t complain, though, happy enough that the pain had disappeared.


    After the massage, the girl went straight to the kitchen to prepare lunch and took a quick shower afterward. By the time the lunch cooled, Breeze was astonished by her rapid pace.


    Wow, that¡¯s what they call not wasting a second, he thought to himself.


    Before he knew it, she was back at his side, sitting him up so she could feed him the soup she had prepared. She filled a dish and sat beside him, feeding him slowly.


    ¡°I... Every cell in my body is grateful for your benevolence, young miss. Not only did you take care of me, but you¡¯re also feeding me this delicious food. I can¡¯t thank you enough, not even in a lifetime.¡±


    The girl stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.


    ¡°Hahaha, it¡¯s the first time someone called me ¡®young miss.¡¯ I¡¯m usually called ¡®the bulky girl.¡¯ Honestly, I like being called bulky because it spares me from problems here and there. You know, girls nowadays are always in danger of being taken by nobles or harassed, and in the worst case, kidnapped¡ªespecially if they¡¯re beautiful. That¡¯s why you don¡¯t see a lot of young girls out unless their family is to be feared. The only exceptions are the MES agents.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Young miss¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just call me Samar.¡±


    ¡°Well, Samar, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re bulky at all. Your muscles are just well-developed, and your physique is perfect, like a trained soldier.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s not exactly how you compliment a girl, you know?¡± she teased with a smirk.


    Sorry, father, all your teachings are wasted on me, Breeze thought, feeling disappointed in himself.


    ¡°It¡¯s just how I feel. The point is, Samar, you¡¯re a charming girl with a pure heart. Calling you bulky is just a way to tame you, to make you feel less feminine and, as a result, less aggressive to prove them wrong. I bet you¡¯ve beaten a lot of people who tried to mess with you, and that¡¯s why they call you that.¡±


    Samar blushed slightly. ¡°Can you stop complimenting me while keeping a straight face? And what led you to this conclusion?¡±


    Sorry for looking emotionless, but my facial muscles are a bit heavy. It''s not because I''m nervous, yeah.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a psychological manipulation thing. Usually, a young girl with a strong constitution tends to be unaware of her feminine side, but it still affects her without her knowing as she grows older. I don¡¯t think those people intentionally called you that, with deep thinking about the result, but it¡¯s bound to happen as you grow older. In the end, you¡¯ll lower your guard completely, and that¡¯s when they¡¯ll try to prey on you. As for your violence, based on what I concluded, I assume I¡¯m not as light as I used to be, but you carried me with ease. Girls¡¯ sharpest weapon is their tongue, but for you, it¡¯s a different case. You trust your muscles. That doesn¡¯t mean you lack eloquence; it¡¯s just that you rely on your strength a lot. That¡¯s how I concluded it, and I might be wrong, but I think you¡¯re just a strong kid.¡±


    ¡°Hey, what do you mean kid? I¡¯m a grown lady. I¡¯m 14 years old.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha. By provoking you just now, telling you that you¡¯re just a kid, I led you to tell me your age. That¡¯s what I meant by psychological manipulation.¡±


    ¡°Sigh. It seems like I¡¯ll regret saving you.¡±


    Oh, I think I started spouting nonsense ''cause it''s my first time speaking with a girl.


    ¡°Believe me, you will not. I''m just pointing out things that maybe you weren''t aware of, just to be on the safe side. As I said, girls your age are more sensitive about how people perceive them. They tend to show off by nature. Based on your strength, you¡¯re as capable as an adult. Now, imagine what happens if a girl in her teens beats an adult. He¡¯d probably never show his face again, and in the worst case, he might try to kill you out of shame. That¡¯s why people try to make you let your guard down. I advise you to find a job where you don¡¯t show your face. It¡¯s still manageable for common people, but if a noble takes a liking to you, that¡¯s your end.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait! I¡¯m utterly confused about your age now. From your body and voice, I¡¯d confidently say you¡¯re younger than me, maybe 11. But the way you speak and think makes you seem much older. I don¡¯t know whether to be impressed or feel sorry for you. My life wasn¡¯t the best, but it¡¯s probably not comparable to yours. And by the way, I¡¯m not some violent girl beating people up. I only remember beating up one trashy guy.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Can you tell me what condition you left him in?¡±


    ¡°Well, he deserved it. He kept harassing children on the streets, and when he tried to touch me, I broke his hand with all its fingers. I also broke his other hand¡¯s fingers as a bonus,¡± she said, sticking her tongue out playfully.


    ¡°Pfft, yeah, I¡¯m sure he deserved it. But stay out of trouble whenever you can. You never know what might happen in noble territories.¡±


    ¡°Alright, enough about me. Now, can you tell me what happened to you? You look like someone who is able to move, so what caused you to be in this condition?¡±


    I don¡¯t know, but I think I can tell her a bit about myself. She seems like someone I can trust, even though I don¡¯t like talking about myself. She asked me politely; she¡¯s not like me trying to read others¡¯ minds and analyze their personality. Probably, it will benefit her to hear my story.


    Breeze looked at her for a few moments, then sighed deeply. ¡°You saved my life, so I¡¯m obligated to tell you. While I¡¯m not totally sure what caused this condition I¡¯m in, I have a suspicion. It happened a year and two weeks ago. Let¡¯s just say I ate something weird, and its effects unexpectedly took a long time to start. There¡¯s a condition for it too, but it¡¯s my first time witnessing something like this, so I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s what caused my condition. This is what happened: I used to travel with my father from bastion to bastion, and sometimes we had to spend nights out in the open...¡±


    With wide eyes, Samar interrupted, ¡°Wait! You ate something weird?! What does it look like? And is it even possible to sleep outside of the bastions and survive?¡±


    ¡°Sigh, don¡¯t worry about the details. Just listen, but I warn you, what you¡¯re about to hear is life-threatening news if anyone finds out about it. Our world isn¡¯t what you think it is. What I¡¯m about to tell you sounds like a fairy tale, but it¡¯s real. Do you still want to hear it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it sounds boring around here anyway. Hearing your story might be fun.¡±


    ¡°Alright, but know that hearing it will cost you a lot.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t saving your life enough?¡±


    ¡°Believe it or not, the secret I¡¯m about to tell you outweighs my life itself.¡±


    Samar gulped. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t have a lot of money.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t cost you money, not for you at least.¡±


    ¡°So what will it cost?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to do something for me, and you won¡¯t be allowed to say no.¡±


    ¡°Okay, as long as it doesn¡¯t endanger my life or involve anything lewd, I¡¯ll accept.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it''s nothing like that. But you¡¯ll hear the condition after the story. If you don¡¯t accept, we¡¯ll stop here."


    "You... You¡¯re really ungrateful and a trickster. Ahhh fine, I accept. Just start your story already. But let me be clear about something¡ªif you''re playing tricks on me, be ready to get your bones broken."


    "Don''t worry, it¡¯s the greatest secret you¡¯ll ever hear."

 Chapter 5

    "Hey, my Breeze, can you hand me the hoof knife?"


    "Yes, Father, here it is."


    Breeze and his father were busy changing the shoes of the draft horses, a risky job, but in this era, easy work was hard to come by. These horses were gigantic, towering at 5m (16.4ft) tall. To manage them, one had to spend days feeding and caring for them so they''d become accustomed to the human touch. If the horses got even slightly agitated during the shoeing process, you could forget about escaping with your life.


    After spending most of the day at work, Breeze had learned from his father by watching. He hadn''t started helping practically yet¡ªhe was still too young to take on such dangerous tasks. His life was all about learning since the moment he first opened his eyes. As the sun set, they brought the horses back to the stable and retreated to the haystack to relax, which served as their bed.


    "My Breeze, now that you''ve learned the common language and our secret one, it''s time I tell you about the world we live in and the hidden secrets most people don¡¯t know. Before we dive into it, I must warn you¡ªknowing this could get you a death sentence from the high echelons. There are seven powerful groups, but the highest three are: a noble family and two clans¡ªone calling themselves ''The Chosen'' and the other ''The Pure-Blooded.'' There¡¯s also a mid-tier family and three lower-tier clans, but they dare not use such arrogant names fearing the top three. These groups are unreasonable; avoid them at all costs. Each one has its emblem, but I¡¯ll show them to you another day..."


    "But, Father, everyone knows about the high-class society. Each group rules a bastion."


    "Son, I''m not yet done talking. Learn to listen more than to speak¡ªit''s a good habit, one that people have forgotten. I want you to grow into a respectable person in a world where respect is a rare thing."


    "I''m sorry, Father."


    "It''s alright, my Breeze. Just focus. You have much to learn, and I can''t repeat a lot because we are tight on time. Now, back to the topic. Haven¡¯t you ever wondered why we live in Bastions while the outside world is vast? Or why the high-class people seem stronger and younger than the average person, even their children stronger than most adults?"


    As Breeze shared this part of his story with Samar, his eyes widened, and his words trailed off. His mind raced, considering a thousand possibilities in mere seconds.


    "Sa... Samar, by any chance, are you... a noble?"


    Curse it! he thought. I¡¯m just a foolish kid. Why didn¡¯t I consider that Samar could be a noble, hidden among commoners? All her kindness could be a facade, making people lower their guard... just like I did.


    Samar tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. Giving him a smile that he couldn''t understand¡ªwas it yes or no? Was she trying to scare him or reassure him?


    "Of course, I''m a noble..."


    Breeze¡¯s heart pounded, his limbs trembling as if they wanted to run. Though paralyzed, he was panicking internally, fearing what Samar might do to him. But then, she caressed his hair, relaxing him with a warm smile.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "You don''t need to be agitated. I told you one of my secrets because you told me yours. The fact that I''m a noble doesn''t mean I''m related to the nobles you know."


    "Huh? Wha¡ª?" Breeze stammered, utterly confused. "What do you mean? Are you playing tricks on me?"


    Is she serious or joking? I can¡¯t tell. If she were a noble, she''d have executed me by now... or is she luring me to confess everything I know?


    "Even I don''t know. All I know is that my father told me we are nobles but not those trash nobles, and he warned me never to tell anyone about it."


    Feeling completely lost, Breeze kept silent for a moment, then he asked her to give him some time to organize his thoughts.


    Is she really a noble? That is not a noble that I know. Argh, I''m totally confused. Should I trust her or not? If you think about it deeply, I already told her that I know secrets common people don¡¯t. I just wanted to warn her about a few things to repay her for saving my life, and now I''m at the risk of dying again. Sigh. Whatever. I''ll tell her, but I need to check a few things first.


    Waking him from his self-absorption, she said:


    "Are you going to continue the story or what?"


    "Please give me time to think about it first."


    "Come on, I''m bored. I want to hear the rest."


    "What? Are you a child? Can''t you be patient?"


    "No, I''m a grown lady!"


    "Okay, Miss Grown Lady, be patient. I''m going to sleep. Goodnight."


    "But it¡¯s still afternoon."


    "Then, good afternoon."


    "No way, you¡¯re cruel. Ungrateful!"


    "..."


    Pouting, she stood up and left the house. Breeze, watching her go, muttered to himself, "Man, I nearly fell for her cuteness. Pouting women are really scary creatures. Maybe I should¡¯ve told her. I have a reason to be patient as well. I''m really frustrated¡ªbeing grateful for her kindness blinded my awareness. I should have considered everything before speaking. Now, even if I don''t want to continue the story, she already knows I know some hidden secrets. Ugh, if she is the noble I think she might be, I''m done for. So my best choice now is to be patient and trust what she said."


    A few minutes later, Samar returned, carrying a bag. A delicious aroma wafted from it, making Breeze''s mouth water. She sat next to him, pulling out a piece of flour cake and eating it slowly, deliberately expressing how incredible it tasted. Breeze knew she was teasing him, but he couldn¡¯t resist the temptation.


    "Ahem! Feed me one of those cakes, and I¡¯ll consider continuing the story."


    She looked at him with a smirk, feeling victorious. "Hmph! You wish!"


    Wide-eyed, Breeze exclaimed, "You wish? Really? Fine. I won''t sell my pride cheap just for a piece of cake."


    She chuckled. "What pride does a baby like you have to speak about?"


    "A baby? For your information, in a few months, I''ll be..." Breeze paused, realizing her game. "You almost had me there. Nice try. You¡¯ll never know my age. You still hold a grudge for tricking you into telling me your age earlier."


    "Tsk, what a fox! I nearly got you!"


    They both burst out laughing, the complicated tension between them dissolving into easy camaraderie.


    "Now, take a bite. It¡¯s yummy," she said, offering him a piece of the cake.


    Breeze took a bite, savoring the rich flavor. The joy of sharing something delicious with someone he liked filled his heart. It reminded him of the old days when life was warm¡ªpoor yet happy, just him and his father. He was still poor, of course, but now he had found someone else to care for, someone to share a meal with besides his late father.


    "You know, Samar, I¡¯m grateful for everything you¡¯ve done for me. Even though your identity gives me the shivers, I''ve decided not to dwell on it. Whether you¡¯re a noble or not, I¡¯ve chosen to trust you. It¡¯s a stupid thing to do for someone like me, who usually calculates everything rather than following my emotions. But deep down, I believe you''re noble¡ªnot by social class, but by heart and principles."


    Samar blushed deeply, her face turning as red as a tomato while fanning herself with one hand and punching the wall with the other. Breeze knew she was the kind of person who couldn''t handle compliments based on her reaction, but he found it amusing. So he confessed:


    "So, Samar, will you marry me?"


    Her eyes widened. "Huh... HUH?!"