At Kollam's house, two days had passed since Kollam and Houn left, and the family’s worry deepened with every second. Esha sat on a bench near the house, watching as everyone else was out searching for Kollam and Houn in the areas beyond the city and between villages, leaving no customers around.

  The following day, on the road to Daek Town, a dwarf, sweat streaming down his face, shouted, “We didn’t find them!”

  A man nodded and replied, “Where could they be? We’ve searched…”

  He trailed off, and the dwarf called out, “Sir Val?”

  Val looked at him and said, “Send orders to the knights! Half should continue the search, while the rest search Brunnenheim City and the woods nearby!”

  The dwarf looked puzzled and asked, “Sir, our city is safe, and the woods are even safer. Kids play there alone at night!”

  Val nodded. “I know, but those are the only places we haven’t searched yet. If I’m wrong, then we’ll have to search the entire region.”

  The dwarf nodded again, saying, “For Kollam, a simple man.”

  Val replied, “As are we.”

  Three days earlier, Joe stared at Houn, who was crying over Kollam’s body. Joe could hardly believe the ghoul had forced himself to crawl with such a severe injury.

  He walked over to Houn and pushed him aside. He’d already collected all the metal tags but then noticed another one attached to Kollam’s shoulder.

  Joe grabbed his dagger and was about to cut into the flesh when Houn, with a desperate cry, tried to snatch the dagger from him. Tears streamed down Houn’s face, yet he couldn’t speak, his voice choked by pain and trauma. Joe struck Houn hard, knocking him aside as he yelled, “He’s dead! He won’t feel a thing!”

  Joe then cut into the flesh, pulled the bloody tag from Kollam, and slipped it into his pocket with the others. He stood and walked toward his bag. Houn forced himself to crawl back to Kollam’s corpse, hugging it tightly as tears continued to fall.

  Joe then looked over at the last hellhound, its faint whimpers barely audible through its injuries. The creature was alive but suffering, whimpering like a wounded pup.

  Sneering, Joe said, “All that terror, all those monstrous sounds, and you end up whimpering like a puppy? You cost me a lot and ran when I needed you, you filthy beast!”

  He picked up a rock and crushed the hellhound’s skull, ending its life.

  Joe grabbed his bag and returned to Houn, who was still clinging to Kollam. He grabbed Houn by the hair and said, “Look at me and remember every word. You will never find me—don’t even try. This is the last time we’ll ever meet, and if… if by any chance you do find me, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill your family, and I’ll cook your damn kids alive! You hear me? He killed people dear to me, and I killed him. That’s where this story ends. Understand?”

  He let go of Houn, placed a healing scroll near him, and walked away, leaving both Houn and Kollam’s body behind in the forest.

  Joe then mounted his horse, which he’d left near the forest entrance, and rode off, his breath laboured from pain. With his face covered in wounds and blood and, of course, the burns, his identity was safe.

  Another day later, the knights found Kollam’s cart overturned on its side. Val began running forward, and the knights followed closely behind.

  After a short sprint, Val came to a sudden halt. He saw Houn and Kollam lying on the ground. A brief smile crossed his face as he hurried toward them, but he stopped in his tracks when he noticed Kollam was dead, his neck wide open. Turning to the knights, his voice shook with disbelief. “Send the healer… send the healer.”

  Three hours later, Esha sat outside on the bench, untouched food beside her. She hadn’t eaten or slept, her eyes fixed on the distant sky.

  The world around her seemed muted; even the sounds of her family inside the house were like faint murmurs. Iga and Gor watched her through the window, worry clouding their faces. Jina and Rona sat weeping, their husbands silently by their sides, while the children sat with bowed heads, tears streaking down their cheeks.

  Iga stepped outside and walked over to Esha, who remained motionless. Leaning down, she whispered in her ear and hugged her tightly, tears flowing freely down her face before she walked back inside.

  Esha kept her gaze fixed on the sky, her face was emotionless…

  Until a single tear slipped down her cheek. More followed as she covered her face with trembling hands. “Kollam is dead” were the only words echoing in her mind, the only truth she could comprehend. Kollam was gone, just like that—her partner, her husband, the other half of her soul… gone.

  Esha’s sobs grew louder, and Jina rushed out of the house, tears streaming down her face. She embraced Esha, who clung to her tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.

  An hour later, Houn was brought back on a cart. Gor and Iga tried to help him walk, but he couldn’t even stretch his legs. Eventually, Gor and Jina’s husband lifted him to the second floor and laid him on a bed.

  A day later, in the Temple of Light at Brunnenheim City, Esha sat in silence; she hadn’t spoken in two days. She was with her sisters and parents, while Houn sat with his wife and children on the other side. Grief was etched on every face—even the citizens and adventurers who had come sat in respectful silence for Kollam.

  After the burial, Esha remained by the grave. Iga approached her and softly said, “Esha?”

  Esha looked up, exhaustion visible—she hadn’t eaten or slept. Iga managed a small smile and continued, “Daughter, if you don’t pull yourself up, his children and yours will die. My little ghoul, just this once, for him and for me, you have to keep going.”

  Esha turned back toward the grave, sitting there quietly. Iga gave her a gentle smile, then helped her to her feet and guided her back to where the family was gathering.

  At the tavern, where adventurers and merchants gathered to mourn, the owner shouted, “All food and drinks today are on me, for Kollam!”

  People nodded and ate quietly. After a moment, a female ghoul—the adventurer who often shared stories with Kollam—called out, “Everyone! He may be gone, but remember what he always said: ‘Good people will meet again!’ So do good, and you’ll see him again!”

  A dwarf, grinning, teased, “And you’re doing us no good by hurting our ears!”

  Laughter filled the tavern, and everyone raised their drinks, shouting, “To Kollam!”

  Back at Kollam’s house, Esha was eating as Iga sat beside her, gently encouraging her to eat more for her pregnancy. Esha finished another plate and pleaded, “Please, Mother, I can’t eat any more, or I’ll throw up!”

  Iga frowned and replied, “One plate in nearly four days? You’ll harm your babies if you go on like this!”

  Esha nodded weakly, tears forming in her eyes. “I can’t…”

  She hugged Iga tightly, her voice breaking as she whispered, “I want to meet him, Mother… I want… to die.”

  Iga cupped Esha’s face and looked deeply into her eyes. Esha gazed back, seeing her mother’s tears. With a voice filled with pain, Iga said, “And you would leave me here alone? I can’t… I can’t lose my daughter, not when I still have years left to live!”

  Esha lowered her gaze and murmured, “But you have our fam—”

  “No!” Iga interrupted firmly. “I will not bury you! Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around! I’ve already buried a son—don’t say this, please!”

  Esha bowed her head, and Iga continued, “Live and raise your children to be better than their father… Raise them to be good and kind, and I’ll be here with you. We all will.”

  Esha’s eyes were bloodshot as she hugged Iga, who held her tightly.

  Afterwards, Iga left Esha to eat alone and went to Houn’s room, where the whole family had gathered, waiting for Gor, who had gone out to buy vegetables.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Near the cemetery, Gor stood by Kollam’s grave. He smiled softly, placing his hands on the headstone. “Don’t worry; I’ll take good care of your children, Kollam, my son. And when I meet you again, we’ll have plenty to talk about, alright?”

  Half an hour later, Gor returned home, set the vegetables down, and went to Houn’s room. Sitting beside Iga, he looked at Houn and asked, “Son, please, tell me everything.”

  Houn looked around at his family, memories of that terrible day flooding his mind. He saw Kollam fighting desperately against the hellhounds—the chaos, the fear—and then Joe’s cold words echoed, “I’ll kill your family and burn your kids alive!”

  He remembered Joe’s chilling smile as he spoke to Kollam, “He was a bandit, a good leader too! Tell him, Dan, a tale or two!”

  He couldn’t forget Kollam’s response, “I killed good and kind people. Do you think God will save me?”

  Joe’s voice replayed in his mind, “You will never find me. And if you do, I will kill everyone!”

  Houn faced his family, saying, “It was the hellhounds. They killed him, and we couldn’t even see them. They toyed with me like a plaything. If Kollam hadn’t saved me, I’d be dead too. Now I’m alive… with shattered knees but alive.”

  The family, including Iga and Gor, nodded in sorrow. Houn’s mind echoed Joe’s threat, “I’ll burn your family!”

  He thought to himself, *Only the grave will know the full truth. And that’s for the best.*

  A month later, Esha safely delivered twins, a healthy boy and a girl. She named them Lifa and Don.

  In another tale, Val, the knight commander, ordered his knights to patrol the forest regularly and warned the children never to venture there again.

  Meanwhile, Joe travelled to Roxana City and found lodging at a small inn. Exhausted from the journey, he collapsed onto the bed, his body still aching from old bruises that had begun to heal, though he’d need a healer for his burned face.

  "I'll sell the horse," he muttered. "No need for a burden that needs feeding and might get spooked again."

  He raised his left arm, revealing a large wound wrapped in bandages, a result of a fall the day before when his horse bolted after seeing a snake. "Walking and paying for carts will be less trouble," he added.

  After bathing, Joe sat on the edge of the bed, his mind heavy. “I really did it... I killed Dan…”

  He looked down at his trembling hands and legs, murmuring, "How do bandits live with this? He was the first man I’ve ever killed, and I’m close to collapsing… He fought those damn dogs till the very end. I wasn’t ready for that."

  Trying to shake the thought, he grappled with the reality of his first kill, feeling the weight of it—he hadn’t simply killed; he’d let the hellhounds tear the man apart.

  Joe let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes. “Keep moving forward,” he whispered to himself. “Just like you always do.”

  As he lay down, his body trembled, knowing that his life would never be the same.

  "Wake up, Joe!"

  "Joe, Wake up!"

  His eyes snapped open to find Lana shaking his arm, calling, "Joe! It’s time for breakfast!"

  He sat up, still groggy, and lifted her onto his lap. She giggled, pointing to his face. “Joe, your beard is big!”

  He chuckled, patting her head. “Four months in his capital would do that.”

  Lana grinned. “Yory cut his! I told him he looked handsome, but he cut it anyway!”

  Joe smirked. “Doesn’t matter if he cuts it or keeps it, he’s still ugly. But don’t worry, I’m keeping mine.”

  Lana beamed and playfully tugged on his beard. “Joe listens to me! He always does!”

  After breakfast, Joe pocketed a purse filled with gold coins and made his way to a shady alley in the western part of the city. As he approached a group, he heard drunken laughter and chatter. “Which one of you is L?” he asked.

  One of the drunken men grinned, nodding toward the end of the alley. “The guild’s down that way, Joe Gostave.”

  Joe nodded and made his way to the small, broken door. After a moment, the door creaked open, and he stepped into the thieves' guild.

  Later, Joe, holding a small box, met with Jogo, who greeted him with a smirk. “Brother, your letters are as short as ever.”

  Joe chuckled. “At least I stay in touch. Writing’s never been my strength.”

  Jogo nodded. “Fair enough. So, what brings you here?”

  Joe handed him the box. “Take this to your mother, and tell her Joe is sorry, alright?”

  Jogo frowned, looking at Joe. “No, you do it yourself.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “Why? Just—”

  “Take it to her yourself,” Jogo insisted. “Mother misses you and wants to see you.”

  Joe’s face fell. “I can’t, Jogo. I stole from her. The shame… even thinking about facing her is.......”

  Jogo crossed his arms. “I won’t do it. Sorry, Joe, but I won’t—and neither will any servant.”

  Joe stared at the ground, deep in thought, while Jogo continued, "I've already informed the guards. If they see you, they’ll let you in."

  Joe’s face tensed with desperation. "And what if Father doesn’t want me there?"

  "Then you leave," Jogo replied calmly. "But at least he’ll know you’re alive. The nobles are already talking about you—how you fought the ghouls when people needed help. That’ll mean something when it comes to taking over our father’s place."

  Joe laughed dismissively. "In your dreams. I’m a merchant, and that’s all I’ll ever be. Let the noble title go to whoever cares—I don’t."

  Jogo nodded. "And I won’t be the head of this family either. I’m not cut out for it."

  Joe patted Jogo’s shoulder, giving him a supportive look. "Brother, if not you, then who? You’re capable, skilled, and wise beyond your years. You have my support, for whatever that’s worth. Alright?"

  Jogo looked at him, hesitating, then placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Brother… what if I’m not right for this? What if I end up hurting our people? Will you be there to stop me if I lose my way?”

  Joe gently patted Jogo’s head. "If you ever stray from the right path, I’ll be there to help you find your way back, just like always. You’re my light, as much as I am your guide. Alright?"

  Jogo nodded, and Joe added, "Besides, most nobles aren’t cut out for it anyway. So that’s one less thing to worry about."

  Jogo grinned. "Thanks, I’ll think about it."

  Joe chuckled. "And don’t stress. It’s not like our father’s dead yet. You’ve got plenty of time before the old man kicks the bucket. By then, you’ll be a man with even more wisdom."

  Jogo then looked at Joe and teased, "But I’m still not taking that to Mother."

  Joe sighed. "I’m disappointed, but not surprised."

  Jogo smiled and said, "And fix your beard. You look awful—either trim it or shave it off."

  Joe smirked. "I’m turning 30 this month, so it stays for now."

  Jogo returned the smile. "I wish you a long life, brother."

  Joe patted Jogo’s head. "And the same for you, brother."

  Later that evening, Joe lay on his bed at the inn, having taken another bath, his mind drifting back to that morning when he entered the thieves' guild. The guild’s interior had been modest—a chamber with two levels. The lower level served as a tavern filled with patrons, while the guild master’s office was likely on the upper floor.

  This guild's setup was less fancy than those in other cities Joe had visited. With tight security in the capital and numerous ambushes over the years, it was wise to keep things simple and cheap, so that, if attacked, the guild members could evacuate swiftly.

  When Joe went to the tavern, he asked, "Sir, where’s L?"

  The bartender nodded. "Joe Gostave, L is waiting for you in the back."

  Joe thanked him and walked through the door leading to the rear area of the tavern. There, he met a dwarf with a short brown beard, two knives strapped to his belt, and a few scrolls tucked in his pouch. Small scars dotted the dwarf’s neck and left shoulder, and he wore a faint smile as he welcomed Joe.

  Joe looked at the dwarf and asked, "L?"

  The dwarf nodded. "Joe Gostave, you hired me for this job, and I delivered."

  Joe took a seat across from the dwarf. "Actually, I've placed this quest in every guild for four years, but no one managed to complete it."

  L smiled knowingly. "You handed it to the White Fang years ago as payment. After that, it became a tangled mess of buyers and sellers."

  Joe nodded. "No guild could unravel that, except the thieves' guild. I knew you all were up to the task."

  L produced a box and handed it to Joe. "Look it over, so we can close this deal."

  Joe opened the box, glancing inside. "I don't think you'd try to trick me..."

  After a quick inspection, he added, "It’s the right one. Here’s your payment."

  He handed L a purse, and the dwarf accepted it, his expression curious. "What made you so sure I wouldn’t cheat you? I’m intrigued."

  Joe met his gaze, a hard look in his eyes. "Because you know what happened to the White Fang. Cheat me, and there'd be no hole or shadow deep enough to hide you from me. I would hunt you down."

  L nodded gravely, counting the last gold coin. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Joe Gostave."

  The next morning, Joe arrived at a small mansion in the nobility district of the capital. Thanks to Jogo, the guards didn’t give him trouble, though a few cast doubtful glances, uncertain if someone with his unrefined appearance belonged in a noble’s quarters.

  Joe recalled Jogo’s advice: "I can't accompany you now, but remember to ask the guards for directions to the Gostave mansion."

  Joe had nodded, then asked, "Why is my father even in the capital?"

  "Business," Jogo replied. "The ghoul invasion led the king to summon all regional leaders. After those long meetings, he decided to take a vacation with my mother and the family."

  "And you? Where are you going?" Joe asked.

  With a finger to his lips, Jogo whispered, "It’s a secret," then walked away.

  Joe sighed as he approached the guards, who nodded as he passed. He knocked on the door, which was soon opened by a young maid who welcomed him inside.

  Joe made his way to the kitchen, where he found more maids chatting and preparing food. He asked a few questions, then left them to their work.

  Climbing to the second floor, he passed two rooms before stopping at the third. He took a deep breath and knocked. After hearing a response, he exhaled slowly, and then entered.

  Inside, Evangeline sat by the window, lost in thought. She turned around, surprised to see young Joe—only ten years old—standing in the doorway with a shy look in his eyes. His legs trembled slightly, and he clutched a box in his small hands.

  Evangeline's face softened with a warm smile. "Joe? How are you... my son?"

  Joe, his innocent face downcast, slowly approached her. When he reached her side, he held out the box, his eyes red, struggling to hold back tears. Evangeline gently took the box, placed it on her lap, and opened it. Her smile grew as she lifted her mother’s necklace, still as clean and beautiful as it had been years before.

  As she admired the necklace, Evangeline's thoughts drifted to Agatha’s sharp words from the past: *"Why do you always defend him? Just why?"*

  Evangeline looked down at young Joe, seeing tears streaming down his face as he tried to stifle his sobs. Setting the necklace aside, she knelt down, pulling him into a comforting embrace. Joe hugged her back tightly.

  “I... I'm sorry! I regret it... please forgive me!” Young Joe cried, his voice breaking. “Please forgive me... Mother! I'm so sorry... Mother!”

  Evangeline held him closer, her voice soft and soothing. “Don’t cry, Joe, my boy. I love you so much, my son. So very much.”

  She repeated with a reassuring smile, “We are safe and together, always together as a family, my son.”

  Then, turning her gaze to Agatha, Evangeline said firmly, “Because he is my son, that’s why. And I will always stand by my children—all of them, without exception. There is no difference between my own son and an orphan from the cruel streets. They all have my love, and I won’t rest knowing even one of them is starving. Never.”