Tom sat on the edge of the bed with his eyes open, feeling a little regretful. The confinement room's window was too high and too small; he could not see the stars in the night sky. He knew perfectly well that the Old Headmaster had lied to him. When people died, they did not become stars. They left nothing behind. But that did not matter.
He would rather deceive himself. That was the only way to avoid that suffocating loneliness. "Why did people have to die? How wonderful would it be if there were no death..."
With a sigh, Tom closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind. He needed sleep. Only when he was asleep would he not feel so miserable.
Walking through a sea of mist, Tom had grown used to having dreams like this. Sometimes he dreamed of the same scene: fog everywhere, the surroundings impossible to make out. He only had to keep walking forward, and a plain-looking, pale-faced woman would appear.
Look, there she was.
Tom stopped and stood before the woman, who stared blankly and stupidly at his face. No matter how unwilling he was to admit it, the woman before him was his birth mother—the mother whose name he did not even know. For all these years, she had always been like this in his dreams.
"Maybe you loved Father, not me."
Tom reached out and touched his smooth skin, puffing out his cheeks. Only now did he show a childish side, though he was a child to begin with. His fingers tapped the air, as though they had touched a hard, cold wall. Frowning, Tom leaned against it and sat down.
"Are you really my mother? You never move, like a statue. Even in a dream, you won't hug me? What kind of person was Father, anyway... Was he an elegant, handsome gentleman like the ones I saw on the street? Or was he a complete bastard?"
"No... He must have been a perfect gentleman. After all, I'm a little gentleman too, aren't I? Did both of you die? Is that why you left me here alone? Fine, talking to myself is really boring..."
Tom lay on the hard bed, his eyes shifting before he reluctantly opened them. The scenes in his dreams were indeed dull, but they were still much better than being alone. At first, being stared at so intensely had disgusted him, but once he got used to it, he no longer cared.
When his confinement ended, Tom returned to his room, opened the cabinet, and took out a tin box. He tossed in the "trophies" the little snakes had brought him. He had no idea which one had started it, but it had forced him to keep all this trash.
"Haah... You really know how to make trouble for me..."
When he went to the kitchen, he found there was nothing left to eat. Tom poured himself a cup of hot water, sat on a stool, and drank it in small sips. Luckily, he had hidden a piece of bread to eat last night, or his stomach would be hurting again now. Over the past few years, he had only saved five and a half pence.
I wonder when I'll get a chance to add to my savings~
"Riddle! Get yourself ready and gather in the yard!" Mrs. Cole found him in the kitchen and curled her lips in disgust. If this little bastard did not look presentable, she would never have let the damned thing come along.
Mrs. Cole stepped forward and pinched Tom's chin. Seeing the wound at the corner of his mouth, she clicked her tongue and let go. "If you dare cause trouble for me, I'll punish you severely later! Don't keep that gentleman waiting. Go put on your best clothes."
With his eyes lowered, Tom obediently answered. He stood and walked back. After turning the corner, he vigorously rubbed his face with his sleeve. He felt like vomiting again.
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