Endings and New Life

If this request had been made a few hours earlier, the young man would have left the room like a servant, even if he was unwilling.

But now everything was different. He didn't leave immediately, but looked at his father, Simon, and said, "You intend to leave..."

"I heard everything from the housekeeper; you're selling everything here."

"The factory, the shops, the warehouses and everything in them—you laid off all the workers, including the house we stand on, all of which are in your plan to sell!" The boy's voice wasn't loud, but it struck Simon's heart like a thunderclap.

His actions were exposed, and he panicked a little. "No, that's not true!"

For the first time, the boy did not lower his head and remain silent, but looked directly at the man who seemed flustered by his questioning. He felt that this man was not as powerful as he had thought.

"You were already prepared to leave. As soon as someone could take over these assets, you would leave. You didn't even plan to take my mother and me with you. You planned to leave us here and leave us with nothing!"

Having guessed the most likely scenario, Simon's emotions stabilized, and he quickly found his place in this familiar relationship.

"These are not things you should know, understand? I'll say it again, I demand that you leave here immediately, immediately!" He pointed to the door, his fatherly authority, the authority of the ruler of the family, beginning to permeate the room once more.

The boy began to feel a change in his heart, just as he had experienced countless times before, from disappointment to despair. Little by little, he felt himself being swallowed by darkness.

His expression was pained, and he tried to force a smile, but it didn't look good. "We can leave, we can go together, the three of us, wherever we want, to the country you came from, or to a country you've never been to. We're a family, we should live together..."

"Tell me, you plan to take us with you..."

He shouted loudly, but Simon remained silent. He pursed his lips, which had lost all color, just like his current emotions—pale and tense.

He refused to acknowledge that the person with darker skin, who resembled his mother more than himself, was his child, even though he knew it was a fact, but he just wouldn't admit it.

The longer he stayed here, the more he missed his cheating wife and his son, who only used the word "father" to express affection when writing letters to ask for money. The mother and son here were nothing more than props, decorative objects, and a bastard to help him integrate into the local society.

The unfamiliar gaze, tinged with displeasure and hatred, plunged the boy into utter despair. He didn't leave the room; instead, he walked to the sofa and sat down, clutching his hair tightly with both hands, descending into a frenzy.

"Why, if you don't like me, if you don't like my mother, why did you marry her and have me?" he questioned Simon.

He had had such thoughts before, but he always told himself that they were just his wild imaginations, and that no one would not love their own child.

He even found some excuses for Simon, such as his different way of expressing love, or that he was actually secretly watching him...

He tried to deceive himself, to convince himself that the lies he had fabricated were the truth of the world, but it seems he failed.

Simon seemed to have come to terms with it at that moment, and his voice was indifferent. "Because if I didn't have a son like you, some locals wouldn't want to do business with me."

"I know what they're thinking. They think you'll be my successor and inherit everything from me. They think you're also Nagaril People ..." Simon paused, as if he had thought of something, but his emotions prevented him from thinking it through. "You are indeed a Nagaril People!"

A strange smile appeared on his face. "And I, I am not Nagaril People, nor should my son be Nagaril People."

"You're right, I never fucking considered you my child from the beginning, and I never intended to take you with me. I can't stand you guys, and now that you're no longer of any use, I'm even less likely to take you with me!"

"So, I've told you everything you wanted to know. Are you satisfied now? Are you happy with this answer?"

"If you're satisfied, get out of my room. I get angry just looking at you!"

The boy slowly raised his head, tears streaming down his face. His facial muscles would sometimes twitch uncontrollably, and with the tears and snot, he didn't look very good, to be honest.

"So, you never loved me, did you?" he asked, this was the last question.

Simon hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "Never."

"I always thought it was because I wasn't good enough that you didn't like me, even though I knew I was lying to myself."

"You refused the last chance, please allow me... to call you Papa (Dad)..."

Papa is a more affectionate term for father in Nagaril. Terms like father and mother are too formal, and not many people use them in real life. Except for family environment and education that force them to use such terms, most people would still use such humane terms to address their parents.

Just as Simon was somewhat taken aback, the boy grabbed the hunting rifle on the sofa and raised it. Simon's expression was a bit strange, even a little disappointed.

"You won't shoot, and you wouldn't dare. I'll leave you and your mother some money so you can live comfortably. Now stop saying those unpleasant things, put down the gun, and get out of my room..."

Boom! The whole world seemed to be filled with this huge sound. Simon looked at the flames in front of him and thought back to when he had just arrived here.

Preton was an excellent hunter who loved hunting. Simon had nowhere else to turn but to him for help. Fortunately, Preton had a history of success, which gave him some connections in his own country.

Preton appreciated this about Simon: he wasn't a garbage collector who pocketed everything; he only wanted valuable people to serve him.

To curry favor with Preton, Simon had several fine hunting rifles arranged to be presented to Preton.

These shotguns may not be very effective on the front lines of battle, but they perform exceptionally well in hunting.

Larger caliber, faster muzzle velocity, and more terrifying tearing force—he remembered the shotgun maker proudly telling him when delivering these rifles that he didn't need to panic even if he were facing a raging elephant.

Simply spread your feet slightly apart, one in front of the other, to stabilize your center of gravity, then rest the butt of the gun against your shoulder, aim at the elephant's head, and pull the trigger.

With a loud thud, the frenzied elephant will fall heavily to the ground like a rag doll, no longer able to pose a threat.

He fell backward, slowly, and he saw blood droplets falling slowly in the air. The blood was not as bright red as people imagined; it was somewhat dark.

He saw some bone fragments and was surprised to see another eyeball, whose nerves were connected to a muscle that was slowly flying in the air. He could even see infinite fear and his own reflection in that eye.

A pathetic creature with half its head missing!

With a thud, Simon collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing involuntarily. The convulsions lasted only a few short times before stopping, and blood gushed from his head.

The boy, who had been thrown over by the immense recoil, stood up again. The door to the room was also kicked open, and the butler and the young man rushed in. They immediately saw Simon on the ground.

Compared to the surprised expression on the young man's face, the butler solemnly pulled out the mat from the coffee table and covered Simon's head, which was missing half of its head.

The blood quickly stained the white mat red. The boy wiped the tears from his face and looked at Simon, who was lying on the ground and had lost all vital signs. He felt very complicated inside.

The mountain he once thought he couldn't cross collapsed before him at this moment. Human life is truly fragile.

He didn't know how to describe his feelings at that moment; all sorts of emotions were churning within him. But more than that, he had some new work to do.

"What should I do next?" the young man asked, looking at the younger man. "I have already shown my sincerity."

The young man nodded, seemingly in complete agreement. "Leave everything to me from now on. From this moment on, you, your family, and your property will be under the protection and care of Nagaril Youth Party!"

Shortly afterward, occasional gunshots rang out around them, but the noise quickly subsided.

The unrest spread here from other places, and some people also set their sights on Simon's house. After all, everyone generally knows who among the foreigners here is the richest.

Just as they were about to break into Simon's house, they saw a body with its head covered on the lawn, and several young men were talking loudly, probably saying that thugs had broken in and killed Simon.

They also told others that Simon's child, a Nagaril teenager, would inherit Simon's property and wealth, and that he was a member of the Nagaril Youth Party.

If you don't want to cause trouble, and don't want to cause trouble for your family, it's best not to set foot in this yard! Nagaril Youth Party's influence and reputation are actually not that great, but they have guns, and at this time, guns become the most persuasive thing.

People remembered Simon who died, the Al- Youth Party Youth Party, and the weapons in their hands.

They expressed their fear and left.

Sitting in the Living Room, facing his mother who didn't seem very sad, the boy stared blankly at the sky outside the window.

He didn't know if his decision was right or wrong, but at least he was trying to seize the opportunity.

The opportunity to take control of one's own destiny.