Chapter 92

One particularly ordinary day came during the modern era, while passing by a convenience store to buy some coffee, a little boy was caught stealing some food.

Toren saw how his brother had paid for the child's food and scolded him for doing such a thing.

For someone who had committed murder and several attempted murders, it was quite amusing for Toren to see how his brother was teaching someone with morals.

When Coen had left, Toren was about to follow his brother along until the child had spoken to him, surprising him to his very core. "Why didn't you say anything when you saw me?" He innocently asked, eating a sandwich. "You were the one who first saw me, right?"

Toren faced him, wide-eyed, clearly shocked with the child's remarks. "Y-You can see me?" Toren asked, hesitatingly.

The little boy's forehead furrowed, while his cheeks were bulging out from eating. "Of course, dude. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you were not supposed to see or hear me. Tell me, what are you?"

The child dismissed his questions, shrugging it off as a lame joke.

"Y'know, that's too old to even laugh at. You're gonna tell me that you're a ghost? Yeah, children from the previous centuries might get scared at that, but I don't actually care. Have you ever felt so hungry and helpless about food, worrying where to get some the next day? Now that's scarier."

Toren looked back and lost his brother, so he decided to just stay and hang out with the kid.

He sat with him at the dusty ground, leaning on the moldy, damped grey walls.

"Life seems quite hard for you, kid," Toren said. "I am sorry for pulling out that joke."

The little boy sighed and sat beside him too.

"It's alright. Not a big deal. Anyway, you have to tell that man earlier that I'm really thankful for him. Who was that? You probably know him, right?"

"He's my elder brother."

"I see. Makes sense why he talks like you. Tell him, I'll never forget his kindness. No one had paid for my food and scolded me like that. It felt like he's looking out for me. It's warm."

Soon, they were already going on talking about Coen without even mentioning his name. Just his characteristics and personality. The things he ought to do and how he behaves.

Throughout the year, the image of him being a murderer had not frightened Toren anymore.

He had witnessed everything that his brother went through because he had always been there.

It was the first time in a few centuries that Toren had been able to talk with someone, so he told plenty of stories to the little boy.

They both enjoyed each of their company as they have relieved their loneliness and longing for life and comfort and an idle talk with what feels like a friend.

They talked a lot about food and Coen and life.

It feels like they were in the same league, crossed at the same road from different timelines.

What mattered more, nevertheless, was their present.

The time they have spent together, dissecting their thoughts and spitting out the things that had been entangling their minds for a long time. They laughed and talked and cried.

When it was time to say goodbye, the child asked who Toren was and he felt a pang of pain. He told the boy that his name was Toren, but deep down, he was seeking to tell something more.

But he could not.

Because he did not know who he was before.

The memory he had lost created a huge crevice between his true self and the person he had just created.

At the vast, bright city, he returned in search of his brother.

And a week later, he had found him.

This time, his brother got involved into illegal organizations.