Chapter 2: Chapter 2 : My name
The boy wandered through the village, contemplating the questions he should ask. Unbeknownst to him, the villagers stared at him with expressions of surprise.
Oblivious to his own disheveled appearance, covered in dirt and mud, he adjusted his clothes. However, his baggy and tattered attire only made him appear peculiar.
Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly halted when a group of children, around his age, blocked his path. Their curious gazes fixated on the boy. One of them brandished a wooden sword and sarcastically addressed him.
"Who do you think you are, some kind of homeless person? Look at your clothes," one of the children taunted, while the rest joined in with mocking laughter. However, the little boy remained unfazed by their words. He had grown accustomed to such treatment.
Surprisingly, their mockery ignited a sense of excitement within him. It reminded him of a lingering question he had since arriving in the village.
He wondered if he would be able to communicate with the locals. What if they spoke a different language he didn't understand? Yet, in this moment, their mocking voices strangely put him at ease.
The boy paid no attention to the children's anger and continued walking through the village, calmly disregarding their presence.
The children, however, were filled with growing frustration. Being young and easily agitated, their emotions quickly boiled over, contrasting with the composure of the little boy.
Though his physical form had shrunk, he retained the maturity of an adult and maintained a calm demeanor that he had developed throughout his life.
As the little boy distanced himself from the group of children, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head. Realizing he had been hit, he noticed a wooden stick lying nearby, seemingly thrown by one of the children.
As he held his bleeding head, the boy fought the urge to retaliate and instead chose to move forward, paying no heed to the children's actions.
This only fueled the children's anger further. One of them swiftly approached the boy and forcefully pushed him, causing him to tumble to the ground. Lying there, he gazed up at the sky and couldn't help but ponder, "Are these kids just plain foolish?"
Dusting himself off as he stood up, the boy noticed the children still staring at him, waiting for a reaction. Ignoring their presence, he continued on his way. The children contemplated pushing him again, but a gentle and soothing voice intervened, causing them to halt their actions.
"Children, stop bothering this boy. Go find something else to do," the woman gently reprimanded the children.
Turning around, the little boy noticed a woman of average appearance, yet her features held a certain allure. She donned a beautiful green dress, her skin lightly tanned from the tropical climate of the area.
Standing beside the boy, she retrieved a white handkerchief and began to cover his wound. However, he pushed her hand away and took hold of the handkerchief himself. He preferred not to engage further with this woman, as he remained cautious and uncertain of their intentions.
Despite her hand being pushed away, the girl showed no signs of being bothered. Instead, she continued to gaze at the boy's face, observing him intently.
"He's quite peculiar," she thought to herself.
Whenever she looked at him, she couldn't help but sense an aura of coldness emanating from him, which was unusual for a child of his age.
As the girl maintained her prolonged stare, the boy began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. However, he didn't accuse her or interpret her actions negatively. Instead, he saw this as an opportunity to achieve his goal and ask the questions that had been plaguing his mind.
Meanwhile, the girl continued to fix her gaze on the boy. As she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed a few tears escaping from his chilly eyes.
Witnessing his tears, a pang of sadness washed over her, and she felt a strong urge to offer him the warmth and tenderness he seemed to be lacking.
The little boy paid no heed to the girl's concern or her attempt to comfort him. To him, his tears were merely a calculated ploy to manipulate others and get what he desired.
He knew that most kind-hearted individuals found it difficult to resist the sight of a crying child. While he appeared sorrowful on the outside, inside he reveled in his twisted amusement.
"Do not cry, boy. Does the wound on your head hurt? Where are your parents?" the girl asked, genuinely concerned and hoping to understand how she could assist the child before her.
...
"I don't know where they are, I'm lost," the child replied, his tears continuing to flow as he displayed his vulnerable side. The girl's desire to help him grew stronger in response.
Grrrrrrr!!!!
The rumbling of the little boy's hungry stomach echoed through the air, signaling his need for nourishment. He had gone several hours without a proper meal, and his small body yearned for sustenance.
Upon hearing the growling sound, the girl took hold of his hand and gently pulled him towards her. "Come home with me. You can have something to eat and clean yourself up," she offered, her voice filled with kindness and compassion.
When the boy realized that his plan to obtain information and a free meal had succeeded, a sinister smile briefly flickered across his face. However, he quickly erased it and resumed his facade of sadness.
He had no intention of causing harm to the girl or anyone else, but he understood that his youthful innocence could be a powerful tool for manipulating the emotions of others.
After walking for a while, they arrived at a modest countryside home located a bit away from the village center. The house was surrounded by a small garden, evidence of the owner's love for gardening, as evidenced by the neatly arranged plants within it.
"Please wait here while I fetch some food," the girl instructed, gesturing for the boy to sit at the dining table in the center of the house.
As the little boy took a seat, he shed his facade of sadness and reverted to his usual cold expression. He raised his gaze and began to observe the room he was in.
The room was simple, reminiscent of rural homes in his original world. Since arriving in the village, he had noticed that the architecture and way of life here were not highly advanced, yet they were not backward either.
Drawing from his knowledge of world history, he surmised that their development mirrored that of the 19th or 18th century.
The boy continued to contemplate his situation while the young girl returned with a variety of dishes.
Once the girl placed the dishes on the table, the contents revealed a meal consisting of fried eggs, bacon, a piece of bread, and a glass of lemonade.
As soon as the food was served, the little boy eagerly started eating to satiate his hunger. Observing his enthusiasm, a faint smile graced the girl's face.
She patiently waited for him to finish his meal before posing her question, "Tell me, are you from one of the neighboring villages?"
Considering that he mentioned being lost, it was likely that he was from one of the neighboring villages. However, his peculiar appearance and behavior raised doubts in the girl's mind.
"No, I'm not from here," he replied, choosing not to give a random answer that could potentially cause problems in the future.
Curiosity piqued, the girl continued her questioning. There weren't many places on the island he could have come from.
"I am from another place. The last thing I remember is that I was traveling with my father, but our boat sank. When I woke up, I found myself in this place," He explained, his words hinting at a mysterious and uncertain past.
As the boy finished speaking, he purposely let a few tears trickle down his cheeks, aiming to make his words more convincing.
He had pondered his story for a while, considering that this place was situated by the sea. The best explanation he could come up with was to claim that he had been swept ashore by the sea.
"I believe the sea brought me here," he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of sorrow and uncertainty.
...
"You poor child, please don't cry. I assure you, your parents will be alright," the girl said, comforting the boy.
"Seems like this girl can't resist the sight of a crying child," the boy thought to himself, smirking sarcastically as he continued his charade of fake tears.
"What is your name?" the girl asked, genuinely concerned.
Upon hearing her question, the boy's sad expression shifted, becoming genuine as he recognized the reality of his situation. He realized that he had been transported to a different world, and it was time to let go of everything that tied him to his previous existence.
But was it really necessary to let go of his previous life? His life before he was transported to this world could be summed up in a few words: the life of a homeless person.
His existence in the other world was nothing to be envied, as it was filled with suffering throughout his 26 years.
It all began when his uncle, seizing an opportunity, manipulated his dying mother into changing her will, leaving him with nothing and taking away his rightful inheritance.
Though he wasn't particularly bothered by the loss, as he didn't have any family ties, the question of needing a home didn't really concern him.
With no family and no home, he found himself homeless for a few days until he was eventually taken in and housed in an orphanage.
...
With a hint of nostalgia, he turned to the girl and spoke in a faint voice, yet with a strong sense of determination to continue.
"My name is Isaac."
He paused for a moment, reflecting on the significance of his name.
' Why should I even ponder over it? My name is the only thing I have left that connects me to my parents. Despite my indifference towards them, as they were only present in my life for the first six years, they loved me with all their hearts.
I will hold onto this name as a token of remembrance and compensation for forgetting them. '
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