Cyril had a dream.
He dreamt that he returned to his childhood.
Those were the poorest, most difficult tis, but also the happiest of his life.
Relying on his mature mind, he helped his father and brother break free from the oppression of the nobles and made those filthy guys pay a heavy price!
It was really simple.
All he needed to do was run out of the territory, find any Divine Hall of the True God, and have them contact the Holy Knight Organization.
The Holy Knight Organization might be delayed because they were short-handed but would never ignore such a request.
They would co, eliminate evil, and resolve them.
Really, it’s that simple.
Even a small child could accomplish it.
And after successfully doing all this, Cyril stood in front of his father and brother, who were joyful yet a bit confused.
They were free.
And as the hero who solved their problems, the boy looked at the two before him but couldn’t display a heartfelt smile like theirs.
Because he...was already awake.
Cyril knew he was dreaming.
This dream, he had had countless tis, countless tis.
He saved his long-dead father and brother in the dream again and again, only to feel endless emptiness upon waking.
He was aware that his father and brother couldn’t co back.
Even though in his heart, he fully understood this fact, more clearly than anyone else!
What is gone, is gone forever.
But Cyril just couldn’t let go.
He couldn’t move on.
He couldn’t get out.
Again and again, again and again, again and again!
He wandered like a ghost in this dream, killing those nobles countless tis, yet couldn’t diminish the anger in his heart.
And with the anger, ca deep guilt.
If at that ti, I really did what I did in the dream, would they be alive?
The more he thought like this, the more painful Cyril felt.
He also thought about forgetting everything and forgiving himself.
But that was sothing he simply couldn’t do.
As soon as he closed his eyes, he could see the pale, decayed face of his father flashing before him, his brother’s charred arm from the furnace falling onto his shoulder.
He couldn’t forget.
Later, Cyril understood.
He couldn’t let go, nor should he.
Couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t!
Every ti the dream reached here, it was almost about to end.
After that, he would fully wake up, return to reality, and make a note in "Cyril’s Book of Hatred".
Then wait for the next ti he falls asleep, to et them again in the dream.
However, for so reason, this dream was sohow different from the past.
The two people who should have been without any self-awareness reacted abnormally to Cyril!
His brother jokingly smiled: "Why are you daydreaming again? Are you tired?"
His father said with a bit of heartache: "My foolish child, don’t push yourself like this! Now that you’ve rid of them, your future will surely beco better."
"Co here, let give you a proper hug."
!!!
Cyril trembled all over, his eyes widened.
They spoke?!
"Father, you...wait, sothing’s not right!" Cyril instinctively wanted to rush over and hug them but quickly realized.
"No, you’re not them!"
He stopped his steps, glared at the two before him, and gritted his teeth: "They’ve long since died! Who are you?"
Cyril was furious.
He didn’t know what kind of interference had affected his dream, but such a change must have been externally influenced.
Who is desecrating my dream!!?
Faced with such a glare, the two looked baffled, exchanged glances, and then smiled at Cyril.
"What are you talking about? Don’t you know who we are?"
Father shook his head, looked at his silly son with gentle eyes, and said with a smile: "We’re not anyone else; we’re just your inner reflections of us."
Cyril frowned, unwilling to easily accept such an explanation.
"When did you beco such a suspicious child?"
His brother saw his doubt and said, curling his lips: "If you don’t believe it, let think of a way to prove it to you... Oh, right!"
He looked at Cyril with an amused, ambiguous expression and chuckled:
"Do you still rember the lady’s underwear you picked up by the river? You thought it was so young girl’s in the village, but it was actually from Mrs. Bilka...yes, the sixty-year-old one back then."
"You probably guessed later but never wanted to admit it honestly to ."
Cyril: !!?
This imnsely embarrassing incident was sothing he only told his brother, and even then, it was in the beginning as a boast.
No one else could possibly know such a thing!
Father stroked his chin, thought for a bit, and said: "Should I also? Well, your last incident of secretly washing your sheets because of bedwetting was at eight years old, the first ti was..."
"Enough! Don’t say anything more!" Cyril interrupted his father’s revelation of his dark past.
He took a deep breath, feeling utterly exhausted.
His father and brother had long since died, and only the three of them knew these secrets, so... they were truly his heart’s illusions.
"Why?"
With his head bowed, he lanted powerlessly: "Why do you still appear before ? Like this, I can’t even forget you more..."
Clap.
As he was thinking, he felt a pat on his shoulder.
The familiar motion after many years froze Cyril in place.
"Haha! My foolish brother, don’t you still understand?"
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