Everything that had happened in the courtyard long ago.
He had also more or less guessed what the woodcutter meant when he said something was wrong with his emotions...
He remembered...
Back then, he had been in a state of splitting headaches and inner turmoil.
He felt as though...
He was about to be torn in two by the arguments in his mind.
Just as he could no longer hold back from shouting, everything went black.
He didn't know what happened after that.
When he woke up again, it was now.
The Young Scholar rubbed the back of his neck.
Indeed...
The back of his neck was faintly sore.
So he'd been hit...
No wonder...
"Brother."
The Young Scholar smiled bitterly.
"You really hit me hard."
He gently rubbed the back of his neck.
"If I hadn't hit you hard, how would you have passed out?"
The woodcutter pursed his lips.
Did the Young Scholar think he wanted to hit him?
If he hadn't been left with no choice...
He wouldn't have done it either.
When they were children, the most he'd done was frown at his younger brother and scold him a little.
After all, his younger brother had been clever and well-behaved since he was little.
He was always following close behind him.
And always listened to him.
But this time...
Why wouldn't he listen?
"Little brother."
The woodcutter sighed deeply in his heart.
"When you were little, you always listened to your big brother."
Their mother had even complained a little about it once.
Remembering their mother's grumbling back then, a trace of amusement flickered in the woodcutter's eyes.
But soon, he composed himself.
"This time, too, will you listen to your big brother?"
The Young Scholar looked at a loss.
A