Chapter 93

It was a tear that had fallen from my eyes. Then, thick tears began to fall one by one.

"…I can't take it anymore."

I covered my face with both hands.

I stifled my sobs to prevent the heartbreaking cries from escaping.

After facing my mother and father, the first day was just a daze.

The scenes I saw were so shocking and overwhelming that I was dazed again.

The next day, I denied it.

My mother and father loved me so much; they couldn't possibly deny me.

They remember me, so all I have to do is go back, right?

And the next day, I finally realized.

'Even if I go back… there's no place for me anymore.'

I had to accept it. The place I could return to was gone.

I had to accept it, embrace it, and negotiate with myself.

Despair settled in my chest.

With no place to return to, the only place left was here.

Here…

Why? Why?

As I accepted everything, a sense of powerlessness and depression crept in.

My place was gone.

I did consider going back home.

But what if my mother and father turned their backs on me when I returned?

I was an adopted child. If my parents abandoned me again, I would become an orphan once more.

Why do I always have to live in fear?

Even though I grew up receiving love from my parents, I was always anxious.

I was afraid of when my parents might have a biological child and abandon me.

My parents promised it wouldn't happen, but sometimes, when I was exhausted, I would have nightmares about being abandoned.

I longed for stable love.

How do you receive love without seeking it?

What should I live for now?

"Sniff, ah, sniff…"

I clamped my mouth shut to prevent the sobs from escaping.

I'll cry today, just today, and think about it tomorrow.

Just today…

"You really are being true to yourself, even when you cry."

I was startled by a voice that shouldn't have been there and lifted my head.

Under the thick shadow of the trees, my teacher stood like a pillar.

I stopped crying and quickly wiped away my tears.

"Ah, Teacher? Ah, this, well… How did you get here? Is something wrong?"

"…"

"Ah, I fell and it hurt a little… I cried a bit like a child."

"…"

"Teacher?"

The teacher didn't respond. Instead, my body floated up into the air.

It was a familiar floating sensation, but today it felt somehow uncomfortable.

"You, who didn't cry even when your face was bruised from a fight, are crying just because you fell? I find that hard to believe."

"…Is it really too poor an excuse?"

"Yes."

Ah, it must have been too flimsy an excuse.

It was too late to back out, so I just let my body be carried by the current and looked ahead.

I was at the same eye level as my teacher.

"I realized I've never seen you cry before."

As my teacher approached, two bright blue eyes were revealed under the moonlight.

"I thought back to when I was your age as I walked here."

"…Wow, I can't even imagine Teacher being three years old."

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"…"

"I realized that if you and I had anything in common, it was that we both didn't cry."

"…"

"I thought you would only cry when you were left alone, just like me."

I let out a small laugh.

You don't know. I cry a lot.

It's just that I've gone through three regressions, and they've disappeared.

Well, for the current me, that statement isn't entirely wrong.

As I laughed, tears began to stream down my face.

"I feel wronged. Why don't you just let me cry? Why do you have to come and make it obvious?"

"…"

"Teacher, you could have just ignored it and walked past without saying anything…!"

It was the first time I had expressed my genuine resentment. My teacher listened silently and then said,

"The real wrong is not that, is it?"

"…"

Pierced to the core, I no longer pretended to be fine. I scrunched up my face and bit my lip.

Right now, anyone would do.

I felt like anyone who would listen to me would be fine.

"I feel wronged. No one has worked as hard as I have."

"…"

"But why is my life like this?"

Thick tears burst forth. I didn't want this. I really didn't want this.

"Why?"

I hated myself for looking for my own faults.

My father didn't mock me for saying such things at the age of three. He didn't even look at me strangely.

It made the pent-up sorrow inside me seep out.

Teacher, you're being unnecessarily affectionate.

"I feel so wronged. I just… wanted to live well."

I never wanted to live like this.

What did I do wrong?

"I wanted to be happy."

Why do the things I desire always disappear like bubbles?

Unable to continue, I finally burst into sobs, crying bitterly.

I had so much more I wanted to say, but the sorrow overwhelmed me, and I couldn't form words anymore.

"…I don't think you'll answer if I ask what makes you feel wronged."

A cold hand touched my cheek.

Even if that hand wiped away my tears, new ones would immediately well up.

Small droplets formed beside my teacher and stuck to my cheek.

"Would it be enough if I created a world where you don't feel wronged?"

The warm droplet took away my tears.

It felt like it was absorbing them, but it also felt like it was wiping them away.

With my vision finally clearing, I saw my teacher's face.

"Would that make it stop?"

The face was the most helpless, lost face I had ever seen.

A face filled with concern and worry.

"What made our daughter so sad, huh?"

"I'll make you an ice cream kingdom!"