The morning sky was unusually dark. Thunder rumbled now and then leaving the atmosphere with chills.
Rord pulled his hood closer to himself and mumbled his complaints about how cold it was.
Lance glanced at him, shook his head but said nothing.
Sometimes he felt more mature than his father.
He cast his eyes below him.
Just below the cliff, a family was dressed up in white, kneeling in front of a freshly dug up grave. They were all crying over the loss of a loved one.
Except for one person.
The mother.
She slouched on the ground, hopelessly staring at her son, as he lay motionlessly on the mat near the grave.
The light that was once in her eyes when she asked Rord to save her child was no more.
One time, her son was sick, his life hanging on a thin thread.
At that time, she still had a faint glow of hope.
Then, the thread somehow thickened.
Only to burn.
She closed her eyes and raised her head to the sky. Simply praying for her son's afterlife.
Rord knew he couldn't feel the pain weighing on the woman's heart–he didn't want to feel that way, but he was slightly sad for her.
" Do we go down there?" Rord asked his son, his eyes fixed on the mother.
Lance shook his head. What would their presence possibly help?
" Just let them."
Rord nodded. He assumed the mother also wouldn't want to see a man who had treated her son, just to watch him die a few days later.
" What a pity." He murmured to himself.
" You wanted the kid dead."
Rord was startled by the sentence but it didn't show on his face.
He didn't shift his gaze from the family either.
Lance did. He looked at his father trying to read an answer on his face.
But Rord's expression revealed nothing.
" You really just assume things. Don't you?" Rord told his son with a small unexplainable smile.
His son really had a bad impression on his father. Rord knew the reason was almost justified and he clearly didn't want to explain anything.
Since his son already thought he wanted the kid dead or, simply killed him, he simply let him think like that.
Even if he was to say he didn't, his son wouldn't believe it. Instead, he would think his father enjoyed denying it to make his guilt hard to prove.
The two of them took different paths when going home. But they all reached home at the same time. They said nothing to each other, and each went to his own room.
Rord pulled off his hood and simply placed it wherever. He slouched to his bed intending to sleep.
But the mother's face kept flashing in his mind. He opened his eyes, cursed inwardly and stood up.
He sat in front of his table, tapped at the table before pulling the dreamshade from a box on his table.
He scrutinized it. The herb was dangerous, but still beneficial. It all depended on the amount.
And he was sure he used the right amount when treating that kid. So the kid's death didn't have anything to do with his medication.
Did it?
He wasn't a good person, and wasn't very pleased when the mother came asking for his help. Even when treating the kid, his heart was complaining but he still didn't want him to die.
He stood up and walked to one of his bookshelves.
He searched for a book.
The book smelled of dust and age.
The title was simple: STUPID RESEARCH!
He had written this book with his friend when he was still young.
Too bad his friend was no more.
He ran his fingers on the worn out cover.
He opened the book but immediately shut it with a sigh.
He needed to check something.
Just like that, he threw on his hood and got out with the book still in his hand.
Lance saw him rushing out. He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his eyes on him until he was out of sight.
He then went to his father's room.
Rord went to the store house.
The guards there greeted him with a bow.
He just nodded and entered.
He opened one box and pulled out a handful of the purple herb.
He examined them as he leaned on the boxes, and opened the book.
The first few pages were filled with childish handwriting, drawings, and notes that made absolutely no sense.
A list of top ten beauties on the planet.
A list of top ten delicious food on the planet.
His lips curled up into a smile as he read.
Then it froze.
The list of top two medics.
It was only him and Asher, his friend.
His eyes remained on the same name for a time.
His eyes seemed to carry the sense of regret as he looked at the name.
He turned the page.
The next page that carried the dreamshade drawing.
The lines were smooth. Every shade carried a sense of elegance.
His friend was the one who drew it.
The handwriting next to it was simply crooked.
Dreamshade is a beautiful deadly herb. I wonder what it can do.
Asher was clearly the one who wrote this. His handwriting completely different from his excellent drawing talent.
He then turned the page.
There was dried blood on the page.
Rord instantly remembered how the blood had gotten onto the page.