The Alms That Never Came

Humans are very subjective beings, especially when a person is very self-centered. Even if they go too far or make a mistake, they won't feel that way. They will only think that it's all a matter of other people's attitudes, not their own.

Simon treated his children at home, and his wife's attitude was not like that of a real father or husband, but in his own opinion, he had done what he should have done.

He provided that woman and child with a standard of living that 80 percent of Nagaril People could not afford, giving them a life of abundance so that they could live well without having to work outside.

He has already given so much; if anyone is still not satisfied, then the problem certainly doesn't lie with him.

That's what he thought, and that's how he saw it. But some bystanders, like the butler, who weren't directly involved, could see that Simon genuinely disliked the female lead and the young master.

By this time, the old butler had a vague suspicion that Master Simon might want to sell his assets and leave. As a butler, he naturally couldn't interfere with Master Simon's thoughts and actions, but...

Facing the young master, the old butler sighed softly. He didn't want things to turn out this way, so he subtly revealed something, even if the chances were slim.

"The master may... be planning to leave here."

"Is he going on a trip, or is he going somewhere else to do business?" The young man didn't realize this at first.

Although Simon was not good to him or his mother, he still took on the most basic responsibility and provided him with a good environment to grow up in.

While others were busy trying to survive, he was still able to go to school, so his feelings for Simon were very complicated. Sometimes he felt desperate, but other times he could comfort himself.

The smile on his face hinted to the old guard that the boy was unaware of the seriousness of the situation. He glanced around and lowered his voice, "The master used to work for the Preton Merchant House. Now that the Preton Merchant House has collapsed and the Federal merchants have come, he may be planning to... leave this place completely and go back to where he came from."

"Whether I stay here or not is no longer important. Anyway, I'm already an old man, and perhaps the turbulent sea voyage will kill me." There was something special in his eyes, like kindness and care. "But you are different, young master."

"I'm not clear about some things, perhaps you could... ask the master."

After saying this, the old butler sighed heavily again and quickly left, leaving the boy standing there in a daze.

Simon's departure was not good news for him. In fact, he had known for years that his father had a family in another country, including another wife and children.

This is not a big problem for the boy. In Nagaril, it is not something that a capable man would be condemned for taking care of several women and helping them realize their dream of procreation.

It's not uncommon for some wealthy men to have a dozen or even dozens of wives here. He didn't seem to care much about the fact that he had another aunt and a brother.

But now, some things he had been deliberately ignoring are starting to surface in his mind.

For example, Simon always placed photos of his other family in the most visible places, on the bookshelves, on his desk, on his work desk, and even on the cabinets in the living room.

But there are never any photos of him with his family here.

For example, he always wrote letters to his family there on time, and each time he would write for a long time, filling three or four sheets of paper with his thoughts before sending them, but he rarely had any brief communication with his family here, not even just a few words.

For example...

Too many examples caused the boy's previously good mood to plummet again. The most important thing now was to find out if Simon intended to leave.

He quickly changed his expression; in this kind of family, in these kinds of family relationships, he had learned how to disguise himself.

"Father..."

Two minutes later, he came to the outside of the study, looked at Simon who was bent over his desk writing something, and exclaimed softly.

He stood outside the door, not venturing even a centimeter in, because Simon had said that no one, including the lady of the house and her son, could enter his study without his permission.

The boy dared not disobey Simon's request. The scar on his forehead seemed to throb a little, though he had long since stopped feeling it.

Simon didn't even look up or say a word, and continued doing his work.

About seven or eight minutes later, he put down his pen, rubbed his wrist, and looked up with a very cold expression and tone, saying, "You should be doing your homework or something else at this time."

He meant he didn't want to see the boy there. The boy pursed his lips, lowered his head, and continued, "Yes, I just ran into Grandpa Butler and learned some things from him..." He mustered his courage, looked up at Simon behind the desk, and asked, "Are you leaving?"

"Leave?" Simon's eyes turned somewhat frightening. "Who told you that, or are you just making wild guesses?"

"I've told you before that I will tell you what I should tell you, but I don't want you to go around asking about things you shouldn't know."

"I won't punish you this time, but if there's a next time, and I find out you're making wild guesses or asking around again, these punishments will be added together."

Simon had a rattan whip, which he used to lash the servants who made mistakes. He couldn't be too lenient with these Nagaril natives, or they would try to cross the line between master and servant.

A whip is a good tool for maintaining one's authority; just a few lashes can make someone recognize one's status within a certain period of time.

Sometimes when the boy made a mistake, or when his mother made a mistake, Simon would whip them, five lashes each time, taking off their shirts and whipping them on their backs.

Each punishment was memorable. When the boy heard the punishment, a look of fear appeared in his eyes, and he lowered his head even further.

"If you're done, go do what you need to do, and remember to close my door..." Simon said, rubbing his wrist, then picked up his pen and began to write furiously.

Actually, he used to have a typewriter here, the kind that keeps banging away, and when it finishes, it makes a "ding" sound, and you can push it back with your hand.

However, he eventually stopped using it. Firstly, he wrote letters quite frequently, but he couldn't write every day. Secondly, ink tapes need maintenance, as does the typewriter.

He had already spent far more money on this than on the typewriter itself, and since his typing skills weren't very good, he eventually gave up.

The young man stood silently at the door for a moment. Simon looked up at him again, somewhat displeased, and nodded slightly, as if questioning him: why haven't you left yet, and what else do you want to do? The young man bowed slightly and closed the door. The study was now filled only with the rustling sound and Simon's increasingly longing to return to his real home and enjoy the warmth of a real family.

The more he had this idea, the more anxious he became, even though his children had no feelings for him and only cared about the money.

Even though his wife had cheated on him and had a lover, he felt it was his fault, that he was the one who made the mistake first, and that he would make amends when he went back.

He couldn't stand the way the children here acted like savages, and he couldn't stand the strange smell that his wife always had. He'd had enough, and he wanted to go back!

The boy returned to his room somewhat bewildered, not even noticing his mother calling his name as he passed her room.

He returned to his room, closed the door, and threw himself heavily onto the soft bed. Gazing at the canopy, he felt increasingly lost.

He could already sense it, sense Simon's determination to leave, and... his determination to abandon them.

He could sense that decision; it was magical. He couldn't explain how it happened, but he just knew that he and his mother were about to be abandoned.

Tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes. He had never cried even when his father whipped him, because Simon had said that the worst thing a man should do was cry.

He had never cried since he was old enough to understand. The more pain and injury he felt, the more he had to smile, because that was the only way to meet Simon's expectations of him, which might not even exist, and to comfort his mother.

But now, he burst into tears. He was destined to be abandoned, and the news he received from the butler was that Simon seemed to intend to sell everything here. He hadn't even considered how the boy and his mother would survive here.

This society is cruel. If rich people like them suddenly lose their money, those outsiders will treat them even worse.

For nearly twenty years, he has been like an unpopular stone, sometimes serving a small purpose, and placed in a place where he can be touched at any time.

He's no longer of any use and is about to be kicked aside.

While he was grieving, he thought of a stranger he had recently gotten along very well with. The stranger was a very interesting person. Unlike other Nagaril People, he did not hope to end his life in a daze and then be reborn into a better family.

He sensed something in this interesting young man that the Nagaril People had never experienced—a spirit, something inspiring.

It was a tenacious resistance.

It is an active effort.

It was a fierce struggle.

Then, with your own will, body, and hands, hold up a bright future!