The Cursed Inheritance

[Before He Got The Coin]

Moriarty had many qualities, but the most prominent one was his desire for a peaceful and simple life.

He cared little for the affairs of others, not wasting his time helping people who could not even help themselves.

He lived in the present, avoiding the troubles and fears of the future. He did not think too far ahead, only making decisions based on what he saw in front of him.

He did not want to be like his father, who was a ruthless and greedy man, always seeking more power and wealth. His father's ambition cost him his life, leaving behind a huge debt that haunted Moriarty.

But fate was not kind to him, as if pushing him to follow the same path as his father. It seemed that he could not escape from his destiny, no matter how much he resisted.

A carriage came to a halt at its destination, a bleak and barren land. 

A young man named Moriarty got out, "So I'm back here." 

He carried a light sling bag made of wolf skin, which he had acquired as a cleaner. It was the only thing he had left from his previous job, when he worked as a humble servant in a noble's mansion.

"Welcome back! To my family's precious farmland, inherited for generations, but never cultivated." 

He said with irony, ridiculing his own legacy. He despised this land, which was the source of his pain and sorrow. It was the reason why his father became obsessed with power and wealth, and why his mother died of illness.

'No matter how much I hate this place, I always end up here.'

He had tried to get rid of this land many times, but no one wanted to buy a land that even grass couldn't grow. 

It was a cursed land, according to the locals. They said that it was haunted by the ghosts of the dead, who died in a brutal war that happened long ago. They also said that anyone who lived there would be doomed to misfortune and despair.

*Swishhh*

The wind blew fiercely, making Moriarty stumble and almost fall. 

"The wind is as harsh as ever." 

He headed toward a shabby hut that had been fixed many times. 

Inside were the things he couldn't sell, a table full of patches, furniture with so many nails on them, a painting with holes. Some of them could be considered high quality if they were still in good condition. They were the relics of his ancestry as a Duke of a forgotten kingdom, when they were a respected and influential noble. But now they were nothing but junk, just like this land.

Now, he was merely called without a family name, same as his father and his father's father before him. 

Officially he was known as Moriarty 'O Ferno, meaning the son of Ferno. And Moriarty hated this name, after all he hated his father and the kind of life he gave to him. 

He blamed his father for ruining his childhood, for leaving him debts, for neglecting his mother's health.

He prepared some tea, "Heh, lucky me, I still have some tea leaves left." 

He climbed up on the table and reached for the light that was still off in the ceiling, taking out a stone inside. He placed the stone in a magic stove and put a kettle on it, but the stove wouldn't start up.

"Lucky my ass! Tsk, where did I put my repair tools?" 

He searched desperately for the tools, turning over half of the things scattered around the hut. 

He finally found the tool, 'I should consider cleaning this mess.'

One of the skills he gained during his last journey was repairing magic circuits. It was not really repairing, it was more like removing the rust in a metal, making the mana flow freely without any obstruction. 

He had learned this skill from a nomadic mage, who had taught him some secrets in exchange for food and his clothes. Definitely not a daylight robbery.

Now, as he watched the sunset from his window, sipping tea and gazing at his vast land of emptiness, he whispered to himself, 'Despite everything, I still love my peaceful life. It may be full of hardships, but I prefer it this way, free and not restricted. With no more debt.'

"Crap. I forgot to put back the magic stone." He said as he hit his hand on his forehead. Darkness swallowed his huge hut as the sun had already set.

In the darkness, sounds of glass shattering, things falling could be heard as Moriarty made his way towards the stove. 

He fumbled and tumbled over several objects on his way. This was how his day ended, trying to light up his place.

◇

"It's burning well." Moriarty said sarcastically.

Moriarty's attempt to install the stone into the light switch had gone horribly wrong. Instead of activating the device, he had triggered a fiery explosion. He had no time to figure out what went wrong, as the fire quickly spread and engulfed his hut in seconds.

He barely escaped with his life, leaping out of the window and grabbing what he could in his arms. He landed hard on the ground and watched his home burn with a bitter smirk.

With a mixture of disbelief and resignation, he reasoned, "Well, sleeping outside is not so bad. It's not like I have anything valuable."

He examined the items he had managed to salvage from the fire. One of them was a painting of a woman with a peculiar appearance. She had no eyebrows, but a thick mustache that curled at the ends. This painting was not damaged, but no one wanted it.

Moriarty's father, who had a twisted sense of humor, had given him this painting as a prank when he was a kid.

"Screw this!"

Moriarty felt a surge of anger and tossed the painting away, only to have it fly back to him with the wind. He sighed and decided to keep it.

He spent the night under the stars, using the painting as a makeshift blanket. The night was not too cold because the fire that had destroyed his hut kept him warm from a distance. Still, he felt a slight comfort from having something to cover him, even if it was an ugly painting.

He even smiled faintly and whispered the name of a girl he had a crush on while sleeping. She also worked at the brothel where he used to clean the rooms. He often heard her moaning and groaning with her customers in the next room, also doing her job.

He wondered if she would do something nice for him, like tickling his ear lobe, if he asked. He giggled softly and drifted into sleep.