Endless Debt-Chapter 922 - 42: Daylight Core_3

"And then? What kind of person was he?"

The woman asked Hill while being busy, amidst a hectic day, the morning was a rare moment of leisure, and she wanted to spend more time with Hill.

"A... a strange person, I don’t know how to evaluate him."

Hill recalled his dream, in which he seemed to live an extraordinary life in the identity of Bologue.

"He is a worshiper of violence, very skilled in fighting violence with violence. I dreamed of him wielding a hammer, smashing the heads of bad guys one after another. He seemed as resolute as iron, but sometimes he appeared fragile, often lying in bed alone, pondering something unknown."

Hill’s memories gradually cleared up, and his mood descended accordingly.

"His most important friend died, and he was very sad, extremely upset."

Hill felt he was close to remembering that person’s name when the woman stopped what she was doing, reached out, and ruffled the boy’s hair.

"It’s nothing, just a dream."

The woman squatted down, looking at him gently, "A little sunshine will make everything better."

Hill wanted to say more, but seeing the woman’s gentle yet subtly haggard face, he didn’t want to burden her any further, so Hill reached out and hugged her tightly.

He whispered, "I’ll be a good child, mother."

The woman affectionately kissed Hill’s cheek, "Hill has always been a good child."

A bout of coughing echoed from inside the house, interrupting their tender moment, making the woman a bit flustered. She left Hill without looking at him, quickly walking into the house, and pushing open the innermost door.

Hill stood there, looking at that door, as if something terrifying was hidden behind it. His gaze was fixed, only moving away after a long while.

He tried not to think about what was behind the door, but the coughing from behind the door was relentless, as if a patient with a cold was hidden there, coughing louder and louder, as if trying to cough out their internal organs.

Each cough resounded like a heavy hammer pounding on Hill’s chest.

After a long time, the woman finally managed the matters inside the house, and when she came out, she seemed very tired, giving Hill a helpless and forced smile.

Hill struggled to speak, "Is father alright?"

The woman comforted him, "It’s okay, father will get better soon."

As work time approached, the woman dressed up, preparing to leave for work. Hill saw her off at the door as she reminded him again before leaving.

The woman said, "With the epidemic going around, please don’t leave the house, okay?"

"Okay."

Hill nodded, "You too, mother, stay safe."

The woman smiled at him, turned around, and left. Her pace was neither too fast nor too slow, her figure tired and thin. Before she completely disappeared from Hill’s sight, he faintly heard the suppressed coughing from afar.

Days rose and set, over and over.

Hill knew, during this period, the epidemic had spread through the village, and the first to fall in their family was his father, who had been lying in bed for a while. Afraid of infection, mother never let Hill visit his father. Apart from hearing his father’s continuous coughing from inside the house, Hill had no other way to tell if he was still alive.

To treat his father, the mother risked working outside and usually returned late at night. Upon returning home, she couldn’t rest, as she had to tend to the severely ill father.

Hill often had nightmares in which he opened that door, finding his father already dead. All that was left on the bed was a decaying corpse, followed soon by his mother...

Hill never told his mother about the nightmares; the mere possibility terrified and filled him with despair. Gradually, Hill even began to fear nighttime, rejecting sleep.

"Bologue..." Hill murmured that name, "Bologue Lazarus."

Hill envied the man named Bologue, though he had a tragic past, he possessed the strength to resist. In comparison, Hill felt powerless, only able to watch his mother weaken day by day, and the family gradually fall apart.

Day after day.

Since that night, Hill hadn’t dreamed about Bologue again, nor had he had nightmares. During this period, Hill felt quite spirited, but his mother became much more frail.

The constant labor left the mother utterly exhausted, and there was no sign of the father’s illness improving.

Hill knew that if things continued, it would only be a matter of time before his mother was completely overwhelmed, but he had no means to change any of it. Due to his mother’s prohibition, he couldn’t even care for his father.

Hill hadn’t seen his father for a long time, and couldn’t imagine what dreadful state his father must be lying in bed now.

"You need to rest, mother."

Late at night, Hill sorrowfully pleaded with the woman, yet stubbornly, she pushed open the door, about to step into the darkness.

Hill held her waist, and the woman lowered her head, softly saying, "Be good, Hill, father needs care."

"Then when will it end?" Hill inquired, confused, "Look at yourself, you’re too tired, you need rest."

The woman fell silent for a few seconds, her voice then trembling, as if suppressing a sob.

"But, but what can I do, Hill?"

At that time, Hill didn’t understand her words, only watching her forcefully break free from his embrace, turning to walk behind the door.

And so, many days later, the mother also fell ill, her complexion pale, her body weak and powerless, coughing lowly from time to time like the father.

Hill heard that many in the village had already died from the epidemic.

Hill knew that if things continued, not only would his father leave, but his mother wouldn’t hold up either.

Every night, Hill suffered, wanting to change everything, but he didn’t know how.

And then... then Hill saw him, on a stormy night, when it seemed like the entire world was about to collapse. The howling wind battered the house, rain poured, and amidst the rolling thunder, the house wavered, as if on the brink of collapse.

Hill curled up under the covers, calling for his mother, yet there was no response from anyone in the house, as if they were in a deep slumber or had left.

The persistent knocking echoed clearly into Hill’s ears, a subtle sound drowning out the storm.

Initially, Hill didn’t want to respond, but the sound was unyielding, knocking repeatedly, unwilling to stop.

Mustering courage, Hill rolled up in his blanket, trying to open the other doors to find his mother, yet those doors were like molten iron, utterly still.

In the end, Hill was left to face it alone, walking towards the main door, a strange premonition suddenly arising in his heart.

"Don’t open the door."

A voice warned him.

"Don’t open the door!"

The voice rose sharply, as if shouting angrily at Hill.

Hill couldn’t stop anymore, his body seemed to be controlled by some force, uncontrollably moving towards the main door, grasping the doorknob, exerting all his strength as if pulling open a giant stone.

The cold wind and rain rushed in through the cracks, a pitch-black figure stood before the door, greeting Hill.

"Good evening, Hill."

Hill stood there in a daze.

Many years later, he would still recall this day, the beginning of his dark destiny.

Likewise.

Hill would also rejoice, for beyond the darkness, dawn arose.