************
Chapter 6. Introduction III
***"********
Uncle, then I'll take my leave and start working from tomorrow," James said politely.
"Haha, okay, okay. I was worrying for nothing. Be sure to arrive by 6 AM tomorrow," the old man replied with a chuckle.
"Can I ask you for a favor?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"I want to look through the resumes of the high school students."
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Sure, you can... but may I ask why?"
"Nothing serious. I just found a few students that caught my interest."
"Hmm… wait here. I'll check my computer. I can't find the hard copies among those piles of files."
"Okay, we'll wait."
Alex and James sat on the nearby couch.
Alex glanced sideways. "You're really interested in minors or something?"
"Hah? What the hell is that rotten brain of yours thinking? It's not like that. I'm just curious—besides, the age gap is way too much, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah… sure, sure."
"Hey! You're not even listening to me!" James glared.
"Forget that... are you interested in joining tonight's party at Hotel Classic? There's gonna be a meetup of tycoons and business folks there."
"Nah, I'll pass," James replied flatly.
While they talked, James's uncle came back with a USB drive after transferring the student data onto it.
"Here. Do as you please... but don't drag me into anything shady."
"Thanks, Uncle. Let's go, Alex."
As they stepped out, Alex grinned. "Why do I feel like we just did something illegal?"
"Just your imagination," James replied coolly.
Seeing James's bright, innocent smile, Alex stopped complaining—but in the back of his mind, a strange thought stirred.
"Well... from what I saw earlier, those two should be high schoolers, right? So... a 10 to 15-year age gap... Hah. He's not gonna groom them or anything... right? Right?"
On the other hand…
"Sis, I'm tired. Can we switch places?" Sonia asked with a sigh.
"Oh? Now you're tired?" Pictru grinned. "Fine. I'll ride now—you walk."
"What? But there's still a long way to go... I don't want to walk!" Sonia protested.
"Do you want to—or do you not want to?" Pictru said, raising her hand threateningly.
"So unfair..." Sonia muttered under her breath.
It was only the second day of classes and already her sister was misusing her authority as the older sibling.
But she couldn't complain much. She remembered everything Pictru had done for her... everything her sister had endured—just for her sake. No matter how annoyed she got, she couldn't stay angry.
After some twists and turns, Pictru, now 23 years old, had finally started attending school again—as a 15-year-old student. Because of her petite frame and small build, even among her classmates she looked like a young teenager.
Everyone doted on her instantly, charmed by her innocent and cute appearance.
But it was only the second day… and already Pictru's true nature was showing. Her carefully crafted image had cracked when she beat up a boy from her class—a third-year student, technically her senior.
Sonia sighed deeply. After that furious outburst... and the recent car incident... Sonia knew better than to speak up. If she angered Pictru now, she'd surely get a beating.
So she stayed quiet, simply watching the disappearing figure of her sister ahead.
It's all her fault I got scolded," Pictru scoffed as she rode the bicycle.
As she pedaled down the uneven road, she soon passed her mother's small roadside shop. Without stopping, she tossed the bicycle carelessly aside and ran straight toward their dilapidated house, built from old tin sheets and scrap wood.
From the shop, her mother Meda noticed only one of her daughters returning. She leaned out and shouted:
"Hey! Where's your sister? Didn't you go with her?"
"She's coming on her own. Said she liked walking, so I left her on the street."
Without waiting for a reply, Pictru stomped into the house.
Meda sighed deeply, wiping her hands on her apron as she stepped away from the shop.
"Why is God so unfair to us…? Why can't He just take me already..." she muttered under her breath.
A voice came from inside the house—Rick, her husband, with his usual biting sarcasm:
"I heard God doesn't take ugly people like you."
Meda's mouth twitched. "Oh? Then maybe God's planning to take away handsome men like you first. Hope He hurries up and takes you soon."
From outside the house, Pictru shouted loudly:
"Ugh, I can't stand this place anymore! I hate listening to the two of you every day!"
Seeing her mother and father bickering again, Pictru clenched her fists and glared at the dusty sky, holding back the frustration swelling in her chest.
As she sat silently in the doorway of their crumbling wooden house, her mother, Meda, came out of the shop and sat beside her with a heavy sigh.
"Haah… nowadays... even breathing feels like a struggle and eating makes me feel like something's stuck in my throat." Meda's voice was tired, cracking slightly as she spoke. "Seeing a doctor? With what money? Maybe... I should just leave this world and be free. But whenever I think of that, I worry about leaving you and your sister behind...."
"Ma, stop talking like that," Pictru snapped softly, clenching her teeth to hold back tears. "We'll find a way. Let's try to see the doctor."
Though her tongue was sharp, her heart was soft — especially for her mother.
A mother is a mother — even when her voice is weak, even when her body fails, her spirit holds the whole family together. Without her, the house is not a home — just walls and dust. Even when the world turns its back, the warmth of a mother is the last comfort that remains.
Meda gave a hollow laugh and shook her head. "I know you don't want to hear this. But sometimes I wonder if I should just step in front of a passing truck... maybe then, at least, the driver would feel guilty and leave some compensation for you girls. Maybe money would finally come into this house..."
Her voice broke into quiet sobs. The weight of poverty — the endless hunger, the unpaid debts, the sickness without cure — had long crushed her spirit. Now only the worry for her daughters kept her clinging to life.
Pictru lowered her head, silent. For once, she couldn't argue. She knew exactly how her mother felt. A single penny ran their house — a thread so thin, it could break any day. Where would they ever find enough for a proper hospital visit?
A poor family's life is like walking a rope over fire — one wrong step, and all dreams burn away. When the world values gold more than life, even a single penny becomes heavier than hope.
But suddenly, an idea sparked in Pictru's mind. Dangerous. Shameful. But possible.
She remembered the car not long ago —
"Jumping into other people's cars to squeeze money, are you?" the man had scolded harshly.
She clenched her fists tighter.
"Let's see if it works...," she muttered under her breath, the dangerous thought blooming like poison in her mind.
A hungry soul will do anything for the ones they love — even wear the mask of a liar, or stain their pride — if it only to buy another day of life.
After the unsettling events at school, Newton lay motionless on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't even changed out of his uniform — his mind too busy drowning in strange, dark thoughts. The hours passed. The sun set, and the room filled with shadows.
Suddenly, a knock came at the door.
Knock knock.
"I'm not hungry, Mom," Newton muttered without looking.
Knock knock.
"I said, I'm not hungry," he called again, feeling a little irritated.
Knock knock.
"...Dad?"
But no voice replied.
A chill ran down his spine as he slowly turned toward the door — and froze.
Standing there, smiling with a wicked curve of her lips, was Pictru... holding a large pair of scissors in her hand. Her eyes gleamed strangely, like something wild and wrong.
"Pictru?! W-What are you doing here?! Mom! Dad! Someone! I'll call the police for trespassing, you crazy—!"
Newton tried to stand — but his body wouldn't move. His arms, his legs… stiff as stone. Panic surged into his chest.
His pale face turned to Pictru, who stepped closer, the scissors gleaming in the dim light. She tilted her head like a curious animal. Her smile grew wider, her eyes darker.
"Let's talk this out, okay?! I'm sorry! I really am! I bully you, and you slapped you — we're even! Let's just forget this, okay?!" he pleaded desperately.
But Pictru only giggled softly, her voice low and chilling.
"Today… your time has come," she whispered.
"Please! No—please, have mercy, Pictru, please don't—"
Without another word, she reached forward and—snip—severed his ear.
"AAAAHHHHHHHH!! MOM! DAD! HELP MEEEE!!" Newton screamed in agony. "My ears! My ears! I'm deaf!! I'm deaf!! Someone help—!!"
Pictru held the bloody ear between her fingers and laughed. A strange, wild laugh that echoed in the room like broken bells.
"I wonder… will these taste good with salad?" she murmured, licking her lips playfully.
Newton's fear overwhelmed him — he felt warmth spreading down his legs. He had wet himself without realizing.
But then—
He jolted upright in bed, gasping for air, face covered in sweat. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.
"Pa—" Newton tried to speak, but before he could say another word—
SLAP!
His father's hand struck his cheek sharply.
"Finally awake, are you?!" Tom said, looking down at him with worry and frustration.
Newton blinked, dazed, and slowly raised both hands to touch his ears — feeling their warmth, their shape, their reality.
"Heh… hehehe… my ears… they're here… I'm not deaf… I have ears… I have my own ears… hehehe…" Newton whispered, half-laughing, half-crying.
Tom stared, deeply concerned. His son looked like he had snapped. Not knowing what else to do, he sighed and quietly stepped out of the room to call his doctor friend.
Sometimes fear can drive the mind to its limits — turning dreams into nightmares, and nightmares into madness. A small crack in the mind, and even reality can feel like it's slipping away…
On the other side of the city, Graze lay on her bed, staring at the glowing screen of her phone. A message blinked silently:
"What are you planning now?"
—Parri.
She tightened her grip on the phone, feeling anger boil softly beneath her skin — but sadness sat deeper, heavy like a stone in her chest.
Earlier that day, she had deliberately given Gato the flower. She knew Parri was watching. Part of her childish heart, whispered:
'Will he get angry? Will he feel jealous if I offer another man a flower?'
How foolish. How small.
"A grown woman... dreaming of childish fantasies. How laughable I've become," Graze muttered bitterly to herself, turning on her side.
She closed her eyes, letting the weight of old memories pull her away.
Years ago... abroad.
A different country, a different life — but the same university. By chance, Parri had been there too — the only other soul from her hometown. Naturally, they'd become friends. Close ones. The kind that knew the shape of each other's quiet.
As months turned into years, Graze's feelings had quietly bloomed. But she never confessed. Neither did he.
Until that one vacation. When he returned home — and returned with someone else in his heart. Sophia.
Graze never dared to meet him face to face after that. She couldn't. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her heart raw. So she'd messaged him instead — the longest, most painful message of her life.
Graze:
"You knew... you knew I had feelings for you. So why...?"
Parri:
"Graze... I thought of you as a friend. I've loved Sophia since we were kids."
Graze:
"Then why didn't you tell me? When we first became friends? Or when you noticed how I felt? Why let me fall for you? You're so cruel, Parri."
Parri:
"Graze..."
Graze:
"Please... can you rethink this? I'd love you no less than her. I'll even stop my course here and come home... Please. It hurts."
A long pause. And then the final cut.
Parri:
"Graze... I'm sorry to be blunt. But what I feel for you and what I feel for Sophia are different. I truly love her. I don't plan to break up with her — not now, not ever. If this is all you wanted to say... then good night."
After that, the silence between them was endless. They never blocked each other. But neither called. Neither messaged. Their four-year friendship died quietly in the space between words.
Graze sighed deeply.
"Am I the fool... for loving him?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
A single tear traced down her cheek as she slowly drifted into sleep, the glow of the phone fading in the dark beside her.
On the same night, in the grand banquet hall of Hotel Classic, a woman in her thirties sat alone at a corner table.
Lucy stirred the drink in her hand slowly, her eyes distant. Her husband had dragged her here for this lavish party… only to abandon her among strangers as he mingled with the other important guests.
"Ah, if it isn't Lucy! Long time no see!"
A cheerful yet familiar voice broke her thoughts. Lucy glanced up to see a circle of well-dressed women surrounding her.
"Ah… Sushi. Yes, long time," Lucy replied with a faint, polite smile.
Sushi grinned wide, her hand delicately resting over her mouth, her fingers flashing a large green diamond ring that caught the hall's lights.
"So... where's Mr. Thomas? Not by your side tonight?" Sushi asked sweetly.
Without much thought, Lucy answered calmly, "He's greeting the other guests."
"Oh, I see… how proper," Sushi giggled softly, her eyes glinting with mischief.
One of Sushi's friends gasped, her gaze caught by the sparkling ring. "Wow, Sushi… that green diamond is gorgeous! Where did you find such a piece?"
Sushi smiled smugly. "Oh this? My husband and I went on a private trip. He bought it for our anniversary. I was so surprised—I even forgot the date, but he remembered. Isn't he the sweetest?" She winked.
As if not finished yet, Sushi added with feigned innocence, "You know, whenever I travel abroad with my husband on his business trips, I always seem to run into Mr. Thomas. But Lucy... I never see you there. Strange, no? Doesn't he take you along?"
The meaning behind her words was sharp as a needle. But Lucy's face remained calm as still water.
"Is that so? Well... unlike some women, I don't cling to my husband on important business trips. I trust him and wait at home—with dinner ready for his return. After all, instead of spending his money like a pet on a leash, I prefer when he gives it to me willingly. Isn't that far more... romantic?"
A hush fell over the group. Sushi's smile cracked.
"Lucy... don't cross the line," Sushi hissed, her voice low with warning.
"Cross the line? What line? Did a mosquito bite that beautiful pale, plastic-surgery skin of yours? Poor mosquito... I hope it didn't catch some strange disease."
Gasps echoed. Sushi lunged to grab Lucy's hair—only for Lucy to sidestep smoothly.
Slap.
A sharp sound cracked the air as Lucy's hand met Sushi's cheek.
"Oh my… my hand slipped," Lucy said coldly, brushing her hair back with grace.