Alex changed into his new clothes after taking a bath. He stood before the mirror, water dripping from his hair onto the ground, his clothes growing wet because he had not properly dried himself with a towel.
Alex no longer had the strength to dry himself properly. He reached for the chair and sat down, his eyes fixed on his reflection in the bedroom mirror. The mana lamps burned brightly, filling the room with light, making it feel like daytime in stark contrast to the inn's dim lamps that barely illuminated anything even during the day.
"You are pathetic," he said, his lips barely parting. His lips trembled as he reached up and pushed his hair back, the damp strands having disturbed his view of his own reflection.
He had not properly dressed himself; his shirt was wrinkled and untucked, and his trousers hung halfway down his knees, not properly pulled up to his feet.
"W-Why, God? Why me? Why do you have to giv.e m..e s..o man .. dis..abili.ties.?" he shouted, his voice trembling and choking on his breath, his eyes growing wet as tears started to fall down his cheeks.
He reached up and wiped his tears from his cheeks with the untucked sleeve of his shirt. "W-Why am I so pathetic?" he asked again. Unable to hold back, he began to cry loudly.
Alex felt so small seeing his reflection in the mirrors; his hair was disheveled and dripping with water, his eyes had grown red, his cheeks were streaked with tears, and he was barely breathing, choking on his sobs at how unfair life had been.
Alex had thought that getting first in the exam would make a difference, but it did not. Today, he saw how his father was filled with sadness and worry for him, and for his sake, the great mountain that Alex had always imagined had become so small.
His father's shoulders, once as giant as mountain peaks, had sagged forward like those of an old man. Alex felt he was the reason for making his father look so pitiful.
And when his father asked if he resented them, how could he? They had always been so kind; they had always loved him.
Instead, he hated himself. He hated how weak he was compared to Princess Eva, who was around his age; he hated how he was still stuck at level one while others were already far ahead of him, and someone his age had reached level forty-five. He himself, through his eyes, saw that the top ranker in the academy's first test was level forty-five, while he was only level one. The mockery and taunts of examinees were still fresh in his mind.
"Why me? Why do I have to struggle?" Alex lifted himself from the chair and gazed at his face, feeling so pitiful, so sad at the sight of his own reflection. He hated himself; he wished he could tell his father that he was the one who should be resented, that he himself was the cause of all this suffering. He was the one who made his parents sad and worried.
He was the reason his parents had to keep him within the confines of the wall.
He clenched his fist and swung it at the mirror, stopping just inches away. "You are so pathetic!" he shouted, growling angrily, his breathing muffled by saliva.
He slapped his cheeks, leaving a red print behind. He looked back at the mirror, and the tears that had barely stopped began to fall again. He choked on his breath, letting out a strangled sound, "Hiek!"
Alex made his way to his bed, turned off the lights, and fell face-first onto the mattress, his mouth buried in the pillow. His tears burst forth again, and he did not stop; he hid his sadness, his voice, and his anger all in the pillow, afraid that someone would hear him crying.
Alex cried into the pillow, hiding in his room and refusing to go eat dinner.
Soon, the maid came to inform him that his family was waiting in the dining room.
Alex told the maid that he was not hungry. He tried to sound natural, trying to hide his sobbed voice from her. He feared his parents would come running into his room to check on him. He did not want to trouble them again; he was a grown-up now. He could not bear to see them worry about him once again, not after how he had already made them worry so many times before.
Afterward, the maid reluctantly returned and left him alone; he did not allow her to enter the room. How could he show her this face?
But after some time, the maid returned with food. Alex did not allow her to enter the room this time either, so she left the food at the door and went back.
Alex felt angry with himself for being so cowardly that he could not even go to the dining room to eat dinner. "You are so weak," he muttered to himself.
After some time, Alex dragged himself across the floor toward the door. Hesitantly, he opened the door just enough to slip his hand through and grasp the plate of food left for him on the tray, his movements slow and careful, as though afraid someone might catch even a glimpse of his face.
The hallway was utterly silent and empty, not a single person in sight, and he let out a shaky breath of relief.
He did not know how he would have shown his face to them the next day if someone were to see his tear-streaked face.
That night, he ate alone; the food had grown cold. He ate the food with bitter bites, choking on it, and tears streaming down his cheeks. Only after finishing the food did he return to bed to sleep.
But he did not fall asleep right away. That night, he cried until he finally drifted off to sleep. He hid behind the doors of his room, unable to go out and show his face to others, and especially to his parents. He feared showing his weak self to others and knew deep down that he was a coward and pathetic, unlike how he portrayed himself to others. He was a shell of his outer self.
***
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