Darkstone Code

Chapter 481: 0479 The Unattainable Charity


Humans are very subjective creatures, especially when someone is extremely self-centered. Even if he goes too far or makes mistakes, he won't think it that way. He will only consider everything as other people's attitude problem, rather than his own.

Mr. Simon's attitude towards his children and his wife at home was not like that of a real father or a husband. But in his view, he believed he was doing what he should.

He provided that woman and child with the basic lifestyle that eighty percent of Nagariel citizens couldn't enjoy, giving them a prosperous life without needing to work outside to live well.

He had given so much that if anyone was still unsatisfied, the issue must not lie with him.

That's what he thought and how he saw it. But some bystanders, like the housekeeper, could tell from a non-involved perspective that Mr. Simon indeed didn't care for the female lead and the young master.

At this moment, the old housekeeper had vaguely guessed that Master Simon might want to sell off his property and leave here. As a housekeeper, he naturally couldn't intervene in Master Simon's thoughts and actions, but...

Facing the little young master, the housekeeper sighed softly. He didn't want it to be like this, so he slightly revealed something, even if the chance was slim.

"Master plans to... leave here."

"Is he going traveling, or discussing business elsewhere?", the young man initially didn't realize the problem.

Although Mr. Simon treated him poorly, treated his mother poorly, he still assumed the most basic responsibility of providing a decent growing environment for him.

While others were already busy for survival, he could still go to school, which made his feelings towards Mr. Simon very complicated. Sometimes he felt desperate, yet at times he could console himself.

The smile on his face suggested to the housekeeper that the young man hadn't realized the seriousness of the problem. He glanced around, lowered his voice, "Master used to be with the Pretton Trading Company. Now, with the Pretton Trading Company collapsed and Federation merchants arriving, he might be planning... to completely leave here and return to where he came from."

"Whether I stay here is no longer important; after all, I'm already an old bones, and perhaps a tumultuous sea voyage might even be the end of me.", his gaze revealed something very special, like kindness or affection, "But you are different, young master."

"I am unclear about some things. Perhaps you could... ask the master."

After finishing these words, the old housekeeper sighed heavily again before quickly leaving, only the young man standing dazedly in place.

For him, Mr. Simon's departure was not good news. In fact, he had known over the years that his father had another family in a different country, including another wife and child.

This wasn't much of an issue for the young man–in Nagariel, it wasn't considered condemnable for an able man to take care of several women and help them realize the dream of reproduction.

It's not uncommon for wealthy families here to have dozens or even hundreds of wives; after all, having another aunt and brother was something he didn't really concern himself with.

But now, some things he deliberately overlooked began to surface in his mind.

For example, Mr. Simon always placed his other family's photos where he could easily see them: on the bookshelf, on the desk, and even on the living room cabinet.

But here, there were never any family portraits of him and this family.

For instance, he always wrote letters to the other family on time and would spend a long time writing each time, filling three or four sheets of paper before sending them, yet seldom had brief communications with the family here, not even a few words.

For instance...

So many examples made the young man's previously decent mood sink again. Now the most crucial thing was to find out whether Mr. Simon was planning to leave.

He quickly changed his expression; in this kind of family, amid these family relationships, he had already learned how to disguise himself.

"Father..."

Two minutes later, he arrived outside the study, looking at Mr. Simon who was bowing his head and writing something, lightly calling.

He stood outside the door, not daring to cross even a centimeter into the room because Mr. Simon had said that without his permission, no one could enter his study, which included the house's female master and young master.

The young man dared not disobey Mr. Simon's demands. The scar on his forehead seemed to pulse in pain, although there was already no sensation.

Mr. Simon did not lift his head or respond, continuing with his task.

Approximately seven or eight minutes later, he set down his pen, rubbed his wrist, and when he lifted his head, his expression was extremely cold, as was his tone, "At this time you should be doing your homework, or doing other things."

He meant that he didn't want to see the young man here. The young man pursed his lips, lowered his head, and continued speaking, "Yes, I just bumped into Grandpa Housekeeper, and learnt something from him...", he mustered up courage to lift his head and look at Mr. Simon behind the desk, "Are you planning to leave?"

"Leave?", Mr. Simon's gaze turned somewhat terrifying, "Who did you hear that from, or are you guessing randomly?"

"I told you before, things that should be known to you, I will definitely let you know, but matters that aren't, I don't want you to be sneakily digging around."

"This time I won't punish you, but if there's a next time, if you let me know you're guessing or snooping around, those punishments will add up."

Mr. Simon had a cane whip, which was used to beat those errant servants. Toward the native Nagariels, one couldn't be too lenient, or they would try step by step to cross that boundary between master and servant.

The whip was a good thing to maintain one's authority, a few strikes would let people recognize their position for a certain period.

Sometimes when the young man made mistakes or his mother made mistakes, Simon would also use the whip on them, always five lashes, stripping off the top, striking against the back.

Each punishment left a deep impression. When the young man heard of punishment, fear appeared in his eyes, making his head hang even lower.

"If there's nothing else, go and do your tasks. Remember to shut my door behind you..." Simon said, rubbing his wrist before picking up the pen again, beginning to write furiously.

Before, he had a typewriter here, the kind that clattered constantly, would ding when reaching the end, and could be pushed back with a hand.

But later he stopped using it, firstly because the frequency of his letter-writing wasn't low, yet not daily, and secondly the ink ribbon and the typewriter required maintenance.

The money he spent in this regard far exceeded the cost of the typewriter itself, and his typing skills weren't great either, so he ended up giving it up.

The young man stood silent at the door for a moment. Simon, somewhat displeased, raised his head again, looking at him with slight tilt, meaning questioning why he hadn't left yet, what did he still want?

The young man slightly bowed, shut the door, leaving only the sound of rustling in the study, and a heart increasingly longing to return to his true home, to enjoy true family warmth.

The more he had such thoughts, the more urgent he felt, even if the kids over there harbored no feelings for him, everything was done for money's sake.

Even if his wife over there had cheated and had a lover, he thought he was to blame; he was the one who made the mistake first, and after he returned he would make amends.

He couldn't bear seeing the child here with that savage look, couldn't endure the strange odor that could never be removed from his wife here; he had enough, he wanted to go back!

The young man, somewhat at a loss, returned to his room. Passing by his mother's room, he didn't even notice her calling his name.

He returned to his room, shut the door, throwing himself heavily on the soft bed, staring at the linen canopy, becoming more confused.

He could already feel it, feel Mr. Simon's determination to leave, and... the resolve to abandon them.

He could sense that decision, strangely; he couldn't say how exactly, but he just knew, he and his mother were about to be abandoned.

Tears uncontrollably flowed from his eyes; even when his father whipped him, he had not cried, because Mr. Simon said, what a man should most not do is cry.

Since he understood things, he hadn't cried. The more it hurt, the more injured he was, the more he had to smile, because this was the only way to cater to Mr. Simon's perhaps nonexistent expectations for him, and console his mother.

But now he cried, after all he was about to be the abandoned one, and judging from the information from the housekeeper, it seemed Mr. Simon planned to sell off everything here, not even considering how the young man and his mother would continue to live here.

This society is very cruel; if people like them with money suddenly lose it, those outsiders will treat them rapaciously.

For almost twenty years, he was like an unwelcome stone, sometimes serving a little purpose, placed where he could be touched at any time.

Now, he had no purpose left, about to be kicked away.

Distraught, he thought of a passerby he recently became quite friendly with–a very interesting person, unlike other Nagariels who hoped to muddle through life and then be reborn fortunate.

From this interesting young man, he felt something Nagariels had never had, a spirit, something exciting.

It was fierce resistance.

It was active striving.

It was ferocious fighting.

And then, with one's own will, body, and hands, embracing a future filled with light!

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