Elifero's eyes widened as the woman's threat continued echoing through his mind. Or I'll kill you. Right where you stand. His breathing grew uneven, and a series of heavy gasps escaped his throat as his heart pounded violently against his chest. Each beat seemed louder and faster than the last, and no matter how desperately he tried to calm himself, the fear refused to loosen its grip on him.
Strangely, the feeling seemed familiar.
Somewhere deep within the emptiness of his memories, he recognised this kind of terror—the sort that seized the body before the mind could comprehend what was happening. Yet the moment he tried to grasp that familiarity, questions flooded his thoughts. When had he felt this way before? Where had it happened, and who had frightened him so badly? He searched his mind for answers, but the harder he tried, the emptier it seemed to become. His fingers trembled, his legs weakened, and fear clouded his thoughts so completely that he barely noticed how violently his heart continued to race.
Then a shadow fell across his trembling body.
Elifero's heart leapt, and his shoulders jerked instinctively. Before he could react further, however, a warm hand settled gently on his head. Strong arms soon wrapped around him, holding him carefully and protectively, and something within him stirred in response.
It wasn't quite a memory, but it wasn't an unfamiliar sensation either. It was warmth, a feeling that reminded him of someone he could no longer clearly picture.
His uncle.
Elifero tried to imagine the man's face, but whenever he reached for the image, all he found were blurred fragments that vanished before he could hold on to them. The face remained beyond his grasp, yet the feeling associated with it lingered. He remembered, or perhaps merely sensed, what it meant to be held and protected, to have someone close enough that, for one brief moment, nothing could reach him.
Why...?
His chest tightened as tears threatened to rise. Why could something as simple as being held make him want to cry?
"Don't be afraid."
Jon's voice reached him, soft and gentle, almost unrecognisable compared with the boy Elifero had met earlier.
"Nobody's going to kill you."
Jon gently rubbed his head, continuing to hold him as Elifero struggled to regain control of himself.
"She was just lying. You're safe here."
The words sank deeper than Jon probably intended. Safe. Elifero desperately wanted to believe him, but the woman's cold expression remained burned into his thoughts, making it difficult to dismiss the threat so easily.
"Just take deep breaths," Jon whispered. "Don't think about anything else."
Elifero tried to follow his instructions. He inhaled, though his breath came out shaky, then slowly exhaled and tried again. Jon kept one hand resting against his head, offering quiet reassurance as he guided him through the process. Gradually, Elifero's heartbeat began to settle, the fog clouding his thoughts slowly lifted, and his breathing became steadier. For the first time since the woman had entered the house, he began to feel as though his body belonged to him again.
Nearly ten minutes passed before Elifero finally raised his head. As his thoughts cleared, his attention shifted towards Jon, and that was when he noticed the blood.
Dried streaks marked Jon's arm, where several small cuts had been left by the broken glass. Another thin wound crossed his cheek, and bloodstains had already dried against his shirt. Elifero stared at the injuries, guilt washing over him as he realised that he'd been so consumed by his own fear that he'd completely forgotten Jon had been hurt.
"Your wounds..."
Jon glanced down at his arm.
"Hm?"
"Jon." Guilt crept into Elifero's voice as he moved closer. "You're hurt."
"Oh. This?"
Jon examined his arm almost casually, as though the injuries were little more than a minor inconvenience.
"You have to treat that!" Elifero insisted. "Let me help."
Instead of responding to the offer, Jon stood and looked directly at him.
"Are you okay now?"
Elifero stared blankly at him, struggling to understand why Jon was asking that question when he was the one bleeding. Jon waved a hand in front of his face.
"Hey. Elifero."
When he received no response, Jon scratched the back of his head.
"Are you listening, or are you still scared?"
A small smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. With dried blood running down his cheek, the expression looked strangely out of place.
"Don't worry. Like I said, she won't do anything."
Elifero glanced towards the door, unconvinced by the reassurance. His gaze then dropped to the floor, where broken glass remained scattered across the room. Several fragments rested beneath the table, small bloodstains marked the ground, and the wall still bore the evidence of the bottle's violent impact. Nothing about the scene matched Jon's casual tone, and nothing that had happened felt remotely normal.
Jon headed towards the kitchen.
"I'll get a broom and some water."
He glanced back at Elifero.
"You should drink something too."
Then he disappeared around the corner, leaving Elifero alone with the aftermath.
For several seconds, Elifero simply sat there, taking in the room around him. Outside, faint evening chatter drifted through the walls. People laughed, children shouted as they played somewhere nearby, and a woman called out someone's name. Life continued beyond the house as though nothing unusual had happened.
The contrast unsettled him. Inside, broken glass and blood remained scattered across the floor, an overturned chair stood among the mess, and the wall still showed where the bottle had struck. Yet outside, people continued their ordinary routines, seemingly unaware of what had just happened behind these walls.
A few moments later, Jon returned carrying a cup of water, a broom, a cloth, and several bandages. He placed everything down before crouching in front of Elifero and offering him the cup.
"Here."
Elifero looked at it.
Jon smiled.
"It's water."
"I know what water looks like."
"Just making sure."
Elifero quietly accepted the cup and took a drink. The cool liquid slid down his throat, soothing the dryness left behind by his panic. While he drank, Jon began cleaning the room, sweeping the broken glass into a small pile before carefully collecting the larger pieces. He wiped the blood from the floor and then the table, working with a familiarity that made Elifero increasingly uncomfortable.
There was something unsettling about how naturally Jon handled the mess, as though cleaning up after incidents like this was nothing new to him.
Once the room was mostly clean, Jon sat down and reached for the bandages. He began wrapping his injured arm while Elifero watched in silence, his thoughts gradually returning to the question that had been troubling him since Jon first stepped in to comfort him.
"Why are you helping me?"
Jon's hands stopped moving.
For the first time in several minutes, the room fell completely still. Elifero lowered the cup and looked at him, searching for an explanation that he couldn't seem to put into words himself.
"Ever since I came here..." His gaze dropped towards the floor. "All I've done is cause trouble."
Jon remained silent.
"When I started panicking, you comforted me." Elifero glanced at Jon's injured arm, his guilt growing heavier. "You were hurt. You were bleeding, and you still worried about me before yourself."
His fingers tightened around the cup.
"So why—"
"Are you hungry?"
Elifero blinked.
"...What?"
Jon resumed wrapping the bandage.
"I asked if you're hungry."
"I was still talking."
"I know."
Jon smiled at him.
"Are you hungry?"
Elifero stared in disbelief.
"Yes or no?"
Jon pointed towards the kitchen.
"We still have leftovers from yesterday. I can heat them up, and we'll share."
Elifero opened his mouth, closed it, then released a sigh of resignation.
"...Fine."
Jon stood.
"Good."
As he walked towards the kitchen, a faint sound drifted from deeper inside the house.
Cough. Cough.
Elifero glanced towards the hallway. The sound stopped almost immediately, leaving him uncertain whether he'd heard anything at all. He waited briefly, but nothing followed.
"Jon?"
"Hm?"
"Was that—"
A cupboard opened loudly in the kitchen, interrupting him.
"What?"
Elifero listened again. The hallway remained silent, and he couldn't hear anything else.
"...Nothing."
He dismissed the sound, assuming it had probably come from someone outside. A few moments later, Jon returned carrying two steel plates, steam curling upwards from the reheated food.
"Careful. They're hot."
He placed one plate in front of Elifero, and the smell gradually spread through the room. The warm, savoury aroma replaced some of the metallic scent that had lingered after the bloodshed, making the space feel a little less oppressive.
Elifero's eyes lit up.
"Wow..."
Jon raised an eyebrow.
"This looks delicious."
"It's leftovers."
"Still looks delicious."
Jon laughed. Before Elifero could begin eating, however, Jon raised one hand.
"Wait."
Elifero stopped.
"What?"
"Let's pray first."
Elifero tilted his head.
"Pray?"
Jon stared at him.
"You don't know what praying is?"
Elifero shook his head.
"What's that?"
Jon considered the question for a moment before glancing down at the food.
"It's... a way of expressing gratitude to the One above."
Elifero immediately looked upwards, staring at the ceiling.
Jon noticed and nearly laughed.
"Not literally above the ceiling."
"Oh."
Jon pressed his lips together, trying to contain his amusement before continuing.
"Food isn't just something we earn ourselves. It's a blessing."
Elifero lowered his gaze towards his plate.
"A blessing..."
"Yeah."
Elifero straightened, apparently determined to understand the practice.
"So, do I bow down and scream 'thank you' or something?"
Jon stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"No!"
Elifero frowned.
"You said gratitude!"
"Not like that!"
Jon clutched his stomach as his laughter continued, leaving Elifero increasingly bewildered.
"You don't have to scream!"
"How was I supposed to know?"
Eventually, Jon managed to calm himself. He brought his palms together and demonstrated what Elifero was supposed to do.
"Just do this."
Elifero copied him, pressing his palms together before lowering his head.
"Thank you for the food," Jon said.
Elifero immediately followed.
"Thank you for the food."
He opened one eye and looked towards Jon.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"...Oh."
A natural smile appeared on Elifero's face. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he liked the small, strange ritual. With the brief exchange finished, both boys began eating.
For a while, neither spoke. Elifero was too busy enjoying the meal, quickly shovelling another mouthful into his mouth while Jon watched him with growing amusement.
"Slow down."
Elifero ignored him.
"You're going to choke."
Elifero swallowed.
"I won't."
"You almost did just now."
"No, I didn't."
Jon laughed.
"Sorry if it isn't much," he added, scratching his cheek. "Hopefully it'll help you regain some strength."
Elifero shook his head enthusiastically and continued eating. The warmth of the meal gradually spread through his body, easing the tension in his muscles and quieting his restless thoughts. The fear that had overwhelmed him earlier began to recede, and for the first time since waking in the unfamiliar village, Elifero felt something close to peace.
Then a faint cough interrupted the quiet.
Cough.
Elifero paused with food halfway to his mouth. Another cough followed, slightly rougher than the first, before silence returned.
He glanced towards the hallway and noticed Jon's eyes shift in the same direction. The movement lasted only a moment before Jon returned his attention to his meal, but Elifero had already noticed.
"Is someone else here?"
Jon looked up.
"My mom."
Elifero's body stiffened slightly.
"She's still here?"
"Probably went to her room."
Jon took another bite as though the matter were unimportant.
Elifero stared towards the hallway.
"But she left."
"She does that."
Jon shrugged.
"Sometimes she comes back without anyone noticing."
Elifero didn't particularly like that answer. He listened for another cough, but none came, so he eventually returned his attention to the food. Whatever was happening in the other room, Jon didn't seem interested in discussing it, and Elifero wasn't eager to start another uncomfortable conversation.
Eventually, both plates were empty. Elifero leaned back, satisfied, before suddenly sitting upright and pressing his palms together. He bowed his head slightly, repeating the gesture Jon had shown him earlier.
"Thank you."
Jon blinked in surprise.
"Huh? What's that for?"
Elifero looked up at him.
"You said it yourself."
A smile spread across his face.
"I'm showing gratitude."
Jon stared at him for a moment before chuckling.
"At least you're smiling now."
Elifero lowered his hands, and the two shared a brief moment of quiet before Jon's expression gradually became more serious.
"Look."
Elifero turned towards him, ready to listen.
"Don't start thinking I'm some hero or anything."
Jon looked away awkwardly.
"I'm not as tough as I look, and I'm definitely not helping you because it's the right thing to do."
He scratched the back of his head and let out a small laugh.
"I'm not even a good person. I just helped you without really thinking about it."
Elifero remained quiet, taking in the words. Jon then looked directly at him, his expression becoming more straightforward and sincere.
"So don't always accept everyone's hand. If someone offers to help you, that doesn't automatically mean they're good."
Elifero considered the warning while Jon leaned back.
"I'm just going to help you get your memories back and help you find whatever you've lost."
A softer smile appeared on Jon's face.
"Then you can go home."
Elifero's expression changed at the mention of home.
"Your mother is probably worried sick."
Jon folded his arms behind his head and looked towards the ceiling.
"Besides... you don't belong in this village forever."
The words lingered in Elifero's mind.
Home.
Mother.
He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the woman Jon had mentioned. Yet nothing appeared. No face, no voice, not even a faint impression of her presence. His mind remained painfully empty, but his chest ached as though something precious had been taken from him.
Why?
If he couldn't remember her, why did hearing the word mother make him feel this way?
Elifero lowered his gaze, struggling to understand the emotion building inside him.
Is she looking for me?
He desperately hoped she was. But another, colder thought soon crept into his mind.
What if she isn't?
His fingers curled against his trousers as the possibility took hold. What if nobody was searching for him? What if there wasn't anyone waiting for him to return? What if the ache in his chest belonged to memories that no longer existed, leaving him with feelings he could neither explain nor escape?
Before the thoughts could spiral any further, another cough drifted faintly through the wall.
Cough... cough.
Elifero's attention snapped back to the present. This time, he was certain he'd heard it.
Jon's eyes shifted towards the hallway again, and Elifero turned to look at him.
"Your mom sounds sick."
Jon remained quiet for a moment before shrugging.
"Probably a cold."
His answer came easily, almost too easily.
"She gets them sometimes."
Elifero nodded, accepting the explanation. A cold sounded ordinary enough, and he saw no reason to question it further. He returned his thoughts to Jon's earlier words, allowing them to settle in his mind.
Then you can go home.
Home.
Elifero closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the place, the people, or the life he'd left behind, but somewhere beyond the emptiness inside his head, he desperately wanted to believe that it still existed.
A mother. A family. A place where someone would recognise his face the moment he appeared, where somebody would know who he was without needing an explanation. A place where someone was waiting for him.
Elifero lowered his head, clinging to the faint hope that had begun to form inside him. For the first time since waking in this strange village, he found himself wishing for something beyond his lost memories or the answers he couldn't find.
He wanted to believe that somewhere, beyond everything he'd forgotten, someone was waiting for him.
Waiting for him to come home.