Hope and His Friends

"You're completely wasting your time," Wilbur said.

"Not really. Even if only to stop Lavinia from screaming and shouting again, the Bria Siblings will have to give those kids a proper lesson."

"And then what? Do you think they'll avoid you next time they see you? No, they're a bunch of idiots who don't know how to weigh the pros and cons. The next time they see you, they'll come up with even more idiotic ways to prove their 'bravery.'"

"No, that won't happen."

"Won't happen? Are you kidding me? Or are you going to tell me you believe they're all good children?"

"You misunderstood me, Wilbur. I wanted to ask something just now. Can I only come out once a month?"

Wilbur did not answer.

Hope continued, "That means if those boys want revenge on me, they'll have to wait a month... As long as you don't let them into the house... I'm guessing they wouldn't dare take revenge on Lavinia. You could tell from when they were throwing rocks just now—no one threw any in Lavinia's direction. After all, she holds grudges like that. So in Whateley House, the only one who seems to go out often is..."

They turned a corner and arrived at another residence. This house was newer and larger, with nearly every window lit up and ivy covering the outer walls.

Music drifted faintly from inside. It was the kind Hope disliked—far too noisy.

"This is the Coreys' house. Their eldest son is going off to college, so they're probably celebrating," Wilbur introduced. "He's really lucky."

"Are Mr. and Mrs. Corey siblings too?"

"No, they..."

"An older sister and younger brother?"

"Damn it, Hope, shut your mouth. They're a respectable family."

"Fine, I apologize."

Hope continued down the road.

"Wait a moment," Wilbur called after him.

"Huh?"

"Stand here. Wait a while before moving."

Hope looked behind him. At the end of the road, there seemed to be a figure.

"Is that Lavinia?"

"It is."

"Then we can wait."

Wilbur pointed at a window in the Coreys' house. "Can you see that silhouette?"

"If there's only one silhouette, then yes."

"That's Mr. Corey."

Another, shorter figure walked up beside Mr. Corey.

"That's Mrs. Corey."

Hope nodded to show that he understood, though he could not make them out at all. At this distance, he could not even obtain those numbers.

Still, while he could not see the people inside, the people inside could see him.

"Hope?"

Someone opened a window and called out to them.

Judging by the voice, it sounded like a young woman.

"Wilbur! Is that Hope?"

Wilbur did not move or answer. He merely let out an irritated breath.

Apparently, the other side did not need his answer. The voice had already turned back and shouted, "It's Hope! Hope is here!"

Some sort of commotion seemed to break out inside.

"So I used to be pretty popular?" Hope asked.

"You were a complete freak back then," Wilbur replied. "Of course, you still are."

"A freak? But look, they seem pretty happy to see me. Compared to me, you're the freak, aren't you?"

Someone opened the front door. Hope guessed he was waving at him, inviting him inside.

Hope hesitated a little, because Wilbur seemed ready to leave.

He soon no longer needed to think about it. Someone shoved the person at the door aside and ran toward Hope while apologizing. More people followed behind him, five in total.

Looks like I'm even more popular than I imagined, Hope thought.

According to Wilbur, all the "amnesia" had happened after the imprisonment. His once-a-month periods of freedom were far too brief, so this popularity must have been Number One Hope's doing.

"Compared to us, you're a freak," Wilbur said.

His voice was drowned out by the cheers welcoming Hope.

The person running in front stopped two meters away from Hope. He was about as tall as Lavinia and wore glasses.

0.97, 1.44, 0.75, 0

The first number still fluctuated around 1, while the fourth was 0 again.

Hope looked at him, and he looked back at Hope. This guy had been the first to run over, yet he was not saying anything.

"Uh... hello?" Hope spoke first.

"Hello!" the other person replied. Perhaps realizing he had spoken too loudly, he lowered his head a little further. "Long... long time no see... You... you came to celebrate..."

He could not finish before someone suddenly crashed into Hope. Hope staggered back several steps and nearly lost his balance.

The person, panting, threw her arms around Hope. At such close range, even Hope could see clearly. It was a young woman, probably the one who had first spotted him. She had wheat-colored skin, golden hair, and was only a little shorter than Hope. She was pretty, around seventeen or eighteen, and wore only shorts and a tank top, exposing a great deal of smooth skin.

1.01, 1.54, 1.06, 0

Hope had no mood to analyze that.

This isn't my type, Hope thought. But... she's too close...

Hope's body stiffened. He did not dare move, or even breathe too much, afraid that one wrong action might cause offense.

Influenced by traditional culture... The only traditional culture applicable here seemed to be Liuxia Hui.

Legend had it that Liuxia Hui held a freezing beauty in his arms to warm her up. What people praised was that he did nothing all night.

When Hope had read that story, he had labeled its author a "creepy pervert." What was there to praise? Not everyone was as perverted as the author. Liuxia Hui had merely done what he should have done.

But now, Hope understood a little. This sort of Western etiquette was still too much of a shock for a traditional Asian man.

So someone else was the creepy one...

"You..."

Before he could finish, the woman released him and took a step back. She stood there with her head bowed, like a student being reprimanded by a teacher.

That forced Hope's "hello" back down his throat, leaving him even more at a loss. He looked at the woman before him, first at her face, then suspected that was impolite, so he looked elsewhere... which was even more impolite, so he raised his head to look at the sky.

He waited for the woman to speak first. After all, she had rushed over and embraced him with such warm abandon. Someone like that should have been eloquent, able to take control of a conversation in a few words. At the very least, she ought to have been cheerful and lively, throwing an arm around his shoulder like a good brother and saying, "We've been waiting for you! Get inside, there's freshly sliced beef and all that."

But the woman truly seemed prepared to keep her head lowered and say nothing forever. Hope awkwardly rubbed his shoulder, not knowing what to say either.

What could he say? This was clearly an old acquaintance of Number One Hope's. Hope did not know her at all.

He remembered the interrupted conversation with the Spectacled Youth and wanted to go around the woman to continue it, only to discover that the Spectacled Youth had quietly taken several steps back and was standing with the other three.

Hope turned around and saw Wilbur leaning against a tree a few steps away, with Lavinia, who had already arrived, standing beside him.

Several people had loosely formed a circle, enclosing Hope and the blonde woman in the middle.

Good heavens, Wilbur, weren't you in a hurry to leave just now? Hope complained inwardly.

Then the woman spoke. "Are you feeling all right?"

Feeling all right?

He could run and jump. Though he had not tried eating yet, he should be able to eat and drink too. If she meant whether he was healthy, then definitely not. He had albinism to begin with and had spent years without seeing the sun.

But if she meant, "Are you all right?"

"I'm all right."

The topic could not continue, and the two of them fell silent again.

This time, Hope lost patience first. "What's your name?"

The woman did not speak, but she visibly grew much more dejected.

Hope covered his forehead and cursed himself inwardly. They clearly had not seen each other in a long time. Who asked someone's name right at the start?

But... Hope pinched the bridge of his nose... I really don't know her name.

He grew increasingly irritated and felt a wave of guilt.

Whatever relationship the first Hope had had with these people had nothing to do with him, with the current Hope.

Perhaps because Wilbur appeared as a prisoner and Lavinia was too childish, Hope had never really felt anything.

But when facing these former friends of the first Hope, he felt like some utterly wicked thief who had stolen another person's fate.

The atmosphere became even more awkward.

"Annie, stop bothering Hope."

At last, someone came to break the tension.

Hope looked gratefully toward the newcomer. It was a sturdy young man in a red plaid shirt.

Red... He should be the one who had opened the door. He had arrived last.

1.00, 1.60, 1.03, 0

"After all, he has a mental illness," the young man said.

He walked toward Hope aggressively.