The Lure
The Young Scholar felt like a clown amusing himself...
"Every day..."
"I shared my food with you."
"When I saw you weren't getting enough to eat, I even asked my sister-in-law to make extra food for me..."
The Young Scholar seemed to let out a laugh that was hard to interpret.
It sounded like he was mocking himself.
"I treated you like an auspicious omen."
"Every day, I gave you food... In my heart, I was practically worshipping you..."
"Was I..."
"Not good enough to you?"
The Young Scholar felt as though his whole-hearted sincerity had been thrown to the ground and trampled to pieces.
He had been so earnest then. Now, he found it just as hard to accept, just as hard to let go...
The Young Scholar couldn't help but turn red-eyed.
Since the heavy rain in the capital, this was the first time the Young Scholar had turned red-eyed.
There was a surge of anger pent up inside him.
He didn't want to admit defeat.
He felt he was the victim.
Crying...
Meant showing weakness.
And showing weakness...
Wouldn't that mean he was the one in the wrong?
No.
The Young Scholar shook his head.
He hadn't done anything wrong.
How could he have been wrong?
The Young Scholar gripped the windowsill.
He took a deep breath.
Then he raised his head.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
The burning in his eyes made him furious.
He didn't want to let the tears fall.
From childhood to adulthood, the Young Scholar had never really suffered much.
His family wasn't well-off, but they all got along.
His older brother was capable.
He often took him into the mountains to find him something tasty to eat.
Later, his parents died young, but he still