If this request had been made a few hours earlier, even if the Young Man was unwilling in his heart, he would have left the room like a servant.
But now everything was different. He did not leave imdiately; instead, he looked at his father, Mr. Simon, and said, "You plan to leave..."
"I’ve heard from the butler that you’re selling everything here."
"The factory, the stores, the warehouse and the things in the warehouse, you’ve dismissed all the workers. Even the house under our feet is in your plan to sell!" The Young Man’s voice wasn’t loud, yet it struck Mr. Simon’s heart like a thunderclap.
Having his actions exposed, he was sowhat flustered, "No, that’s not true!"
For the first ti, the Young Man did not lower his head in silence; instead, he stared directly at the man who seed a bit panicked under his questioning. He felt that this man was not as powerful as he had imagined.
"You’ve actually prepared to leave. As long as soone can take over these assets, you will leave here. You didn’t even plan to take and Mother with you. You intended to leave us here and not leave us with anything!"
Having guessed the harsh reality, Mr. Simon’s emotions instead stabilized. In this relationship that he was more familiar with, he quickly found his footing.
"These are not things that you should be concerned with, understand? I’ll say it again: I ask you to leave here imdiately, now!" He pointed to the door, and the authority of a father, the authority of the ruler of this family, began to pervade again.
The Young Man began to experience a transformation in his heart, just like the countless tis he had gone through the process from disappointnt to despair—a little by little, he felt himself being swallowed by darkness.
His expression was sowhat pained, trying to force out a smile, but it wasn’t very convincing, "We can leave, the three of us, go anywhere, go to the country you ca from, or sowhere you’ve never been. We are a family; we should live together..."
"Tell , you plan to take us with you..."
He shouted loudly, but Mr. Simon remained silent. He pressed his lips together; his lips lost their color, much like his current emotions—pale and tense.
He never admitted that this darker-skinned person, who resembled his mother more than himself, was his child. At the sa ti, he knew it was indeed a fact, but he simply refused to admit it.
The longer he stayed here, the more he missed the wife who had been unfaithful and the son who only used the term ’Dad’ when writing to ask for money. The mother and son here were nothing more than props for him to integrate into local society, a vase, and a half-breed.
The unfamiliar eyes laced with a touch of displeasure and hatred left the Young Man completely desperate. He did not leave the room but rely walked to the sofa and sat down, clutching his hair tightly, descending into a state of agitation.
"Why, if you don’t like or Mother, why did you marry her and have ?" he questioned Mr. Simon.
He had previously had such suspicions, but he always told himself it was just his imagination. How could soone not love their own child?
He even found so excuses for Mr. Simon, like saying he had a different way of expressing love or that he was actually secretly paying attention to him...
He tried to deceive himself into believing that the lies he concocted were the truth of this world, but apparently, he failed.
At this mont, Mr. Simon seed to have co to terms as well, his voice cold, "Because if I didn’t have a son like you, so locals wouldn’t want to do business with ."
"I know how they think. They assu you will beco my heir and inherit everything from . They think you are also a Nagariel person..." Mr. Simon paused as if realizing sothing, but his emotions didn’t allow him the opportunity to think deeply, "You are indeed a Nagariel person!"
A peculiar smile appeared on his face, "And I, I’m not a Nagariel person, and my son shouldn’t be a Nagariel person either."
"You’re right, I never considered you my child from the beginning, and I never planned to take you with . I can’t stand you. Now that you no longer have any value to , I definitely won’t take you with !"
"So what, I’ve told you everything you wanted to know. Are you satisfied now? Are you satisfied with this answer?"
"If you’re satisfied, then get out of my room. Just looking at you now irritates !"
The Young Man, tears streaming down his face, slowly raised his head. His facial muscles occasionally twitched uncontrollably, coupled with the tears and so snot, honestly, it wasn’t a pleasant sight.
"So, you’ve never loved , right?" he asked, this being his final question.
Mr. Simon hesitated slightly, then shook his head, "Never."
"I always thought it was because I didn’t do well enough that you didn’t like , even though I knew I was lying to myself."
"You’ve refused the last opportunity. Allow to... call you papa one last ti..."
Papa is a more affectionate term for father in the localization of Nagariel. The terms father, mother, and such are too formal, and in real life, few people speak this way unless their family environnt and education make it necessary. Generally, people still use such warr terms to address their parents.
In a mont of shock for Mr. Simon, the Young Man picked up the Hunter’s rifle from the sofa and raised it. Mr. Simon’s expression was peculiar, even with a hint of disappointnt.
"You won’t shoot, you wouldn’t dare to. I’ll leave so money for you and your mother so you can live well. Now stop saying those unpleasant things and put down the gun, get out of my room..."
Bam!
The whole world seed to be occupied by this huge sound. Mr. Simon looked at the firelight in front of him and thought about the ti when he hadn’t been here long.
Preton was an excellent hunter and loved hunting. At that ti, Mr. Simon had nowhere to turn and had to rely on him, but fortunately, he had so successful experience in the past, which gave him so connections in his own country.
Preton appreciated this about Mr. Simon. He wasn’t a scavenger who put everything into his own pocket; he only wanted those valuable people to serve him.
To please Preton, Mr. Simon got so high-quality hunting rifles through soone and presented them to Preton.
These hunting rifles may not be of much use on the front lines of a battlefield but perford excellently in hunting.
Bigger calibers, faster muzzle velocity, more terrifying tearing power. He still rembers the proud manufacturer telling him when delivering these rifles, not to panic even when facing a mad elephant.
Just stagger your feet a little, stabilize your body’s center of gravity, then rest the stock against your shoulder, aim for the elephant’s head, and pull the trigger.
After the bang, the mad elephant would fall heavily to the ground like a rag doll, no longer able to threaten anyone.
He fell backward, slowly fell. He saw the blood droplets in the air slowly falling; the blood wasn’t as bright red as people imagined, it was sowhat dull.
He saw so bone fragnts and was surprised to see another eyeball. The eyeball’s nerve was attached to a piece of muscle also floating slowly in the air. He could even see infinite fear in that eye, along with his own reflection.
A poor wretch missing half a head!
With a loud thud, Mr. Simon lay on the ground, his body convulsively twitching; it twitched only a few tis before stopping, and blood flowed from his head.
The young man, who was knocked over by the powerful recoil, stood up again. The room door was also slamd open as the butler and the young man rushed in. They imdiately saw Mr. Simon on the ground.
Compared to the young man’s look of surprise, the butler somberly pulled a doily from the coffee table and covered the missing half of Mr. Simon’s head.
The blood quickly stained the once-white doily red. The young man wiped the tears from his face, looking at the lifeless Mr. Simon on the ground, his heart filled with complexity.
What he once thought was an insurmountable mountain had collapsed in front of him at this mont. Human life, indeed, is very fragile.
He didn’t know how to describe his feelings at this ti; various emotions were surging. But compared to these, he had so new tasks to do.
"What should I do next?" The young man looked at the young man, "I have shown my sincerity."
The young man nodded, seemingly in strong agreent, "Leave everything to from this mont. You, your family, and your property will be under the protection and care of the Nagariel Youth Party!"
Soon, occasional gunshots sounded around but quickly subsided.
Chaos spread from elsewhere to here, and so people also targeted Mr. Simon’s house. After all, among the foreigners here, everyone more or less knew who had money.
But just as they were preparing to break into Mr. Simon’s house, they saw a corpse on the lawn with its head covered. Several young people were loudly saying sothing, probably that a bandit had infiltrated and killed Mr. Simon.
At the sa ti, they also indicated to others that Mr. Simon’s child, a Nagariel young man, would inherit Mr. Simon’s estate and wealth, and he was part of the Nagariel Youth Party.
If they didn’t want trouble, and didn’t want trouble for their families, it would be best not to step into this yard!
The influence and reputation of the Nagariel Youth Party were actually insufficient, but they had guns. At this ti, guns beca the most convincing things.
People rembered the dead Mr. Simon, rembered the Youth Party, and the weapons in the hands of the Youth Party.
They expressed fear and left here.
Sitting in the living room facing a mother who didn’t seem very sad, the young man stared blankly at the sky outside the window.
He didn’t know if this decision was right or wrong, but at least he was fighting for a chance.
A chance to take control of his own fate.
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