"Egemed! Why are you doing this—are you a fool?"
"I'm afraid of you."
"You're such a fool."
"Are you mad?"
"Justice would mean nothing if everyone were like you."
"You think you're a god?"
"You're possessed by an evil spirit."
"I don't think you're normal. Just go and meet a doctor."
"Egemed, please… stop this. Please listen to your father."
"Can't you see? The whole world is watching—judging you—calling you the idiot son of the Mychens."
"If you continue like this… I wish you were never my son."
"I won't let Heryl become like you."
"This is impossible… unbelievable… What on earth is happening to you?"
"You're ridiculous."
"We won't stay under your care anymore. We're afraid… maybe it was you who secretly killed our own kind."
"Now I understand why you lured us here—so you could kill us one by one."
"You just pretend to be kind."
"You're cruel."
"You're a psycho."
"You're a killer."
Egemed stood there with a faint smile, accepting every single curse thrown at him. He didn't deny a single word they said.
When they finally left, he removed his hat and lifted his eyes toward the sky and whispered:
"Jerelr… I wish you were here."
A shadow lingered behind his words, as if the truth he carried was heavier than all the curses thrown at him.
...
'Ah… such a beautiful morning.'
The air clung to his skin like a whisper from a sacred realm—pure enough to wash the world's sins away.
'Once I finish helping my mother, he thought, I will climb the hill again… to breathe this holy air.'
By evening, the sun bled toward the horizon like a dying ember. Atop the hill, a lone figure stood, eyes closed, as the wind teased his wavy hair. His long black coat swayed like a dark banner against the fading light. With a sigh deep enough to stir the air, he opened his eyes and watched the river below shimmer like molten silver.
His hazel eyes carried a quiet sorrow, as if he had seen too much of the world. His gentle smile could ease the pain of strangers. Standing tall against the dying sun, he looked almost like an angel about to unfold his wings at a divine command.
A trembling voice broke the stillness.
"Egemed! What are you doing here at this hour? Darkness is coming—what if some villain strikes while your eyes are closed?"
An old woman, bent beneath a bundle of straw, hobbled toward him.
Egemed chuckled softly, a sound soothing yet edged with something unreadable.
"Aunt, fear not. If my hour has come, it will find me whether I stand here or rest in my room."
"Why speak so?" she whispered.
"It is truth, Aunt. Death is always close. We ignore it only because it frightens us."
She shook her head.
"You speak as if wiser than the world, young man… I am merely an old woman, yet you sound as though you carry lifetimes."
"No, Aunt. You are not ignorant. It is natural to worry for the young. Now—give me your burden. I'll carry it."
He lifted the bundle effortlessly and walked beside her down the hill.
"Your coat, dear… it will be ruined! Why wear such finery to the hill?"
Egemed laughed—soft, dark, gentle.
"I love this coat, Aunt. But clothes can tear, wash, or fade. I cannot carry them into death. And should I let you struggle for the sake of fabric? I am young and strong—and respect demands action."
The woman fell silent.
"Do not worry," he added. "As long as I breathe, there is no need for worry. I love others more than myself… heh."
"Do you wish for punishment, child?" she teased lightly.
"No. But it is true. Without love, humans are nothing but selfish shadows. Love comes first; duty and respect follow. Everything I do comes from love… cannot you see?" He chuckled.
"And those who serve evil? Those who obey tyranny knowingly?"
"That too is love," he said quietly. "Love of darkness. Love wears many faces."
"Hmm…" she murmured.
"Do you not agree, Aunt?"
"You may be right," she admitted.
They reached her home. Egemed placed the straw in the shed.
"Take these oranges before you go," she insisted.
"I need nothing, Aunt."
"Take them! Don't be too polite."
He smiled softly, accepting them not out of desire, but out of kindness.
"I cannot let your heart feel ignored. Thank you, Aunt… goodnight."
That night, after bathing, dining, washing dishes, and preparing his parents' bed, he slipped into sleep. The world quieted around him, folding into darkness like a velvet shroud—carrying him into dreams both gentle and strange.
But behind his closed eyes, a shadow stirred. He knew: peace never lasted long in Egemed's world.