Nurturing the Hero to Avoid Death

Light streams into the room.

It’s morning.

I know I have to get up, but try as I might I can’t seem to rise from bed. My body is a bit stiff and I can’t move. My breath comes out in harsh puffs and sweat clings to my body. It feels gross.

Oh, it happened again, I thought. It’s been a while since I’ve had this dream.

The memories have faded. Just as I was about to forget, I have this dream.

It feels like someone showed me this dream. As if to make sure I won’t forget.

The dream always begins at night. In pitch darkness, my mother and I sprint through the town’s back alley, a mixture of smells thick in the air. Chasing after us are several bad-looking men.

As we pass by other people, we desperately cry out for help, but those onlookers turn away from us in disgust after a single glance. They ignore me and my mother, walk away from us as if they hadn’t seen anything. As if we were just air.

No one is willing to help us.

The country my father brought us to was said to be the largest on the continent. Everything from as far as the eye could see was beautiful, big, and bustling. The country was overflowing with goods and people.

However, such a great place naturally drew the interest of outsiders. Immigrants flocked over like moths to a flame. But these people were from all over the world with clashing cultures. They were alien, uncivilized and dirty, a hindrance to all.

As such, no one batted an eye if a crime was committed before them. Even if that crime was murder. No, they would be all the more happier that the immigrant population was cannibalizing themselves. Law and order? Justice? Don’t make me laugh.

The country’s inhabitants had come to a tacit agreement. This was a place where all would be forgiven.

Every few months, my father returned home from his business trip. Listening to his travel tales was one of the few pleasures in my life. In his stories, he often mentioned a smaller neighboring country. Despite its size, its immigrants lived ordinary and happy lives. It seemed like something out of a dream.

Every time, my father would tell me and my mother that someday, once he’d saved enough money, we would all go there.

Then one day, my father didn’t come back from his business trip. Several months rolled by, but he was still nowhere in sight. My mother believed he would definitely return one day. I, however, had my doubts.

Perhaps he lost his life on his way home. Or, maybe he found a better life and no longer felt like coming back.

One day, after getting paid for finishing my shift, I went shopping at the market on the way home. And I encountered a group of gangsters. I took my mother and ran. However, we were no match for their speed.

The dream always starts when we are cornered in the alley, and repeats over and over again.

The wind whipping past as I run. My mother’s screams.

Over and over.

The fear gripping my entire body as I dash off without her.

I run.

And run.

And run.

Daggers of guilt pierce my heart, causing me to come to a full stop. Questions of how I could abandon my own mother attack my psyche ceaselessly. I condemn myself. Without wasting time, I turn around and run in the direction from which I had fled.

But, when I finally reach that place, my mother lies cold and still, the whole ground drenched in red.

I scream.

It’s good if I wake up at this moment. Though I would have a headache or feel nauseous for the remainder of the day, that’s still better than the dream continuing.

For this dream has a continuation

When I arrive at the scene of my fallen mother, our pursuers catch sight of me.

Fear devours me as I make a dash for it. Yet it was too late. Despite my struggle, I am beaten and kicked to the ground, my legs broken until they lay limp. In the end, they catch me.

Disgusting smiles slide across their faces. One of the men wraps his putrid hands around my neck, squeezing tighter and tighter. I claw at his hands, trying to peel them off, head flailing, legs still as motionless as before. I can’t breathe. With each passing second I grow more and more in a panic.

And then my vision dyes red.

Once again, just like always, my sight abruptly cuts off. Then after a while, it returns. And then…

Before me lie corpses, scorched black and torn to pieces. Blood and organs are scattered on the ground.

And my hands. They’re dripping with blood.

A hoarse scream rips from my throat once more─

Whenever I wake up during this scene, that’s when I know that day will be the worst.

To this day, I still can’t believe I was able to stumble into this village alone.

After my mother begged me to escape the country by myself, that I had to live, I did exactly as she had told me.

I gathered the money my mother and I had steadily saved up. The smuggling fee was expensive, but I managed to leave the country by way of hiding in a livestock wagon. From then on, I did my best not to come into contact with other people or demons. I made my way east, running or hiding whenever needed.

Read this at perpetualdaydreams.com

I held on to that belief that the country to our east was amazing, relying on my father’s stories to fuel my determination. As long as I reach the promised land, I will find happiness. In my childish mind, I also dreamed of the possibility of meeting him again.

Yes, I had to believe.

Even when my steps no longer kept in a straight line, my vision growing hazy, I continued to walk, holding on to my belief.

While I still had money, I bought food for myself. But soon, the last of my money ran out.

However, I was resilient. I hunted small river fish and game, gathered wild fruits and edible weeds. And I managed to survive.

Since I looked like a vagrant, no one tried to approach me anymore.

I walked and walked. Just kept walking.

Starving and sleep-deprived, I finally collapsed in the middle of the road. I must have looked like I died. A good samaritan came across my prone body and felt pity for me. Thinking I should at least be mourned, he carried me to the church. At that point, I was already standing by death’s door.

As I was laid into the child-sized coffin, I suddenly opened my eyes, surprising the nun who was by my side.

I escaped being buried in the graveyard by a hair. Eventually, the nun took me in and raised me.

Whether this was the amazing country my father had always spoken of I do not know. However, compared to how life was back then, this place was definitely like a dream.

That’s why to me, this place and the country my father always mentioned were one and the same. They were both the places promised in our dreams.

I am now attending the municipal school. Although I wanted to work after I graduated from elementary, my caretaker pleaded for me to continue my education. So, here I am.

The nun is a very good person. She’s taken in orphans from all over the place. The kids leave when they become independent, but new ones always replace them. As such, the church could barely afford to roof them.

More robust than the average person and not a stranger to physical labor, I had planned to work to help support the church. To help ease the financial burden. Yet, my caretaker always dons a troubled expression whenever I mentioned this idea. She would say the money I earned belonged solely to me.

I just wanted to do what I could do.

As I enter the dining hall, granny catches sight of me.

“Oh my, Al? Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”

“I don’t.”

“That’s a lie! Your face is red!”

I don’t want to be told this by a granny with apple-like cheeks. “Well, even though that’s true, I’m fine. I can move without a problem.”

“But still!” Granny sighs. “You’re totally indifferent toward yourself… What a troubling child. Please don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I know.”

“I wonder if you actually do know or if you’re just saying that as usual.”

“I’ll be back.” Just when her nagging begins, I make a quick break for it, grabbing coffee and some bread before heading out.

As soon as I step into the classroom, I feel a plethora of stares aimed at me, ranging from good-willed to hostile. Like always, it’s a bit annoying. What is it about me that’s so interesting?

As usual, at the center of the room is a silver-haired boy.

Lian. The second son of the lord who lives in the biggest mansion in the village.

Noticing my arrival, he narrows his ice blue eyes, tilts his chin up slightly, and smirks. He gives off the appearance of looking down on me, but his gaze is too gentle to really be arrogant. It makes me feel like laughing a little.

Which reminds me…

When I had first arrived at this village, he looked at me differently. His gaze was not as gentle. In fact, those eyes had looked at me with scorn, as though he hated being too close to me. Like those eyes from where I came from.

Since when has this changed? The person he was long ago and the person he is now are as distinct as night and day. It’s like they’re different people altogether…

A little while ago, I met Lian at the church after I got injured at work. I was surprised to find him collapsed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Was he that weak? I had no clue. This had never crossed my mind. He’s as strong as ever with the sword. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to beat him in a spar.

Upon closer inspection, his face was blue, body on the verge of freezing to death. Extremely exhausted. One phrase zipped through my mind at that moment: magic deficiency. From what I’ve heard in the past, that’s what it looked like.

Was it similar to a chronic disease? I hadn’t a clue.

He immediately refused when I offered to take him to the hospital. And when I offered to take him home instead, he refused that as well.

What did he want then?

He refused all of my attempts to help him, and in the end he told me to leave him alone. He was like a brat throwing a tantrum.

What happened? He was usually a reasonable and exemplary honor student. Yet, he actually said he didn’t want to go home.

Even though I didn’t have all the facts at hand, I was starting to think Lian’s running away from something. Ahh, was that the reason he escaped to the church?

He was always putting on a bold front, trying to hide his weaknesses.

And although he talked like a brat, all audacious and conceited, in reality, he was a worrier. I’ve proof of this. Whenever he saw me hurt, he’d fly to my side and give me a recovery item, face all pale.

Whenever he saw someone in trouble, despite what he said, he always lent a hand.

At heart, I was sure he was a terribly kind person. That was why he was popular with the middle and lower class students. But maybe in order not to be underestimated by his fellow upper class students, he tried hard to act like he wasn’t.

Because he looked like he’d faint at any moment, I forcibly performed a magic transfer. And also to return the favor.

…But it seems like I’d overdone it. Now he was unable to move.

Well, I also thought I was overdoing it. But, it had felt too pleasant. For a moment, I forgot myself, and kept silent. Lian’s eyes were trembling, so it must have felt pleasant for him too.

Finally running out of energy, he stopped fidgeting around. I carried him to my room and laid him on my bed for the time being.

As I was about to pull away, he clung on to me like a child, eyes still shut in slumber. From his lips left soft and desperate pleas. Don’t die, he muttered. Don’t leave me.

I wasn’t dead yet. I’d just fallen off the roof. The old man was alive too. I turned my attention to his face, thinking he’d woken up. He was still asleep.

Shivering, he latched onto my shirt.

He was crying.

…What the. Could it be? Was he scared─I mean, lonely?

No, that couldn’t be it. Lian was always surrounded by people and he had his family too.

At least, that should’ve been it, but… Now that I thought about it, even when there were people physically around him, Lian sometimes sported a lonely look in his eyes.

And I knew those eyes well. They were similar to my mother’s when she’d yearned for my father’s return, a shadow crossing her gaze.

For some reason, that same shadow existed in Lian’s eyes. When I saw it, I felt a little nostalgic, and also, a little relieved. …Because then I knew that that shadow existed everywhere.

Meanwhile, Lian’s staring intently at me while I was engrossed in my thoughts. It’s strange. Usually, he looks on forward. His brow slightly furrows.

“Alfred? You…”

Before he can finish, the bell rings. The teacher enters the classroom and he flips back forward in his seat.