An interruption shattered the quiet atmosphere of the room. It began with a faint cough, so quiet that Elifero initially wondered whether he had imagined it. His eyes shifted toward the sound, but he remained silent, listening. Then it came again, louder this time—a rough, forceful cough that echoed through the walls and reached the room where he and Jon sat. There was something unusually harsh about it, something that made Elifero's attention linger as another cough followed, then another.
Elifero glanced toward the room from which the noise came. "Aren't you going to check up on her?"
Jon remained calm. "Don't worry about it. It's just a small cold. A fever, that's all. You shouldn't worry yourself about it."
Elifero continued staring in the direction of the coughing. Something about the sound didn't seem consistent with an ordinary fever, but he decided against questioning Jon any further. Instead, Jon turned his attention back to him and began explaining their plan for the following day. "We'll walk around the village tomorrow. Maybe if you see places you've been before, or people you recognize, something might come back to you."
Elifero listened, considering the possibilities. A familiar street, a house he had once lived in, a face he somehow recognized, or even the sound of someone's voice—any of these things might awaken something buried deep within his mind. "We don't have much else to work with," Jon admitted.
Another loud cough echoed from the other room. Jon paused briefly before continuing, as though he hadn't heard it. "It's not the best idea, but we have to work with what we've got, I guess." He offered Elifero a small, reassuring smile. "Let's just hope we can get everything figured out as fast as possible. Wherever your mother and sisters are, they must be missing you."
Elifero lowered his eyes. His mother. Bloom. Raim. The thought of them tightened something inside his chest, leaving him with a quiet ache he couldn't explain. He gave a small nod, unable to offer anything more. Jon stood and stretched his arms above his head. "In the meantime, let's prepare to sleep. It'll be a busy day tomorrow."
"Uhm..."
The word slipped out before Elifero could stop himself. Jon looked at him expectantly, but Elifero fell silent. Another cough sounded from the other room, and he clasped his hands tightly between his crossed legs. His fingers trembled slightly, and despite the coldness of the room, a thin sheen of sweat had gathered across his forehead. He wanted to ask, but suddenly the request seemed embarrassing.
Jon tilted his head. "Huh?"
Elifero swallowed. "I... I don't want to be a bother or anything, but..." He hesitated, struggling to push the words out. "Can I sleep here tonight? If that's okay with your mom... and you?"
For a moment, Jon simply looked at him. Then a small smile appeared on his face. "You can stay as long as you need to. At least until you get your memories back."
Elifero blinked in surprise. "Wait. Aren't you going to ask your mom first before deciding that?"
Jon casually waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. Leave my mom to me." He turned toward the doorway. "Now come on. Let's get some sleep."
Morning arrived quietly. Elifero woke early, but for several moments, he remained completely still. Beside him, Jon was still asleep, his breathing deep and uneven. Elifero turned to look at him, surprised to see him sleeping so soundly. Apparently, everything that had happened the previous day had left Jon more exhausted than he had let on. Elifero considered waking him, then stopped himself.
He's probably tired.
Jon had helped him when he was frightened, comforted him when he needed reassurance, treated his wounds, fed him, and allowed him to spend the night. The least Elifero could do in return was let him rest. Instead, he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The zinc roof above them had clearly seen better days, with rust eating through sections of the metal and leaving patches of corrosion scattered across its surface. In the dim room, the damage was barely visible except where weak morning light filtered through the curtains.
The house was almost completely silent, save for Jon's rhythmic snoring. Elifero continued staring upward, yet there was something strangely heavy about the quiet surrounding that familiar sound. Slowly, his eyelids drooped shut, and his thoughts began to wander. His mother. Bloom. Raim. His village. His friends.
And then, Pedro.
Two Years Ago
Mid-morning.
The sky was clear that morning, almost entirely free of clouds. A cool breeze swept through the village, carrying the crisp freshness of the early day. In front of the house, Bloom and Raim played near their mother's garden while she worked among the flowers, pulling weeds and loosening tangled roots from the soil. A little farther away, beneath the shade of a large tree, Pedro sat with his back against the trunk. Its leaves had begun changing colour, patches of orange and yellow standing out among the remaining green as they swayed in the breeze. His horse stood beside him, and he absentmindedly ran a hand through its mane, enjoying the quiet.
Then Elifero approached. The boy lowered himself beside his uncle without a word. For a while, he simply watched Pedro, whose blondish hair caught the sunlight whenever the wind stirred it. Elifero didn't need a reason to sit with him. Being near his uncle was enough to make an ordinary morning feel special.
Pedro eventually opened his eyes and glanced at the boy. "Don't you just like the weather at this time of year?"
Elifero looked up at the sky. There wasn't anything particularly remarkable about it. The weather seemed much the same as it had been every other year, and he couldn't understand why his uncle had brought it up. "What do you mean?"
Pedro didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head toward the tree towering above them. "Look closely at this tree."
Elifero followed his gaze, studying the branches and the leaves shifting in the wind.
"It has deep roots," Pedro explained, "but its leaves are always reaching toward a sky they can never fully touch."
Elifero listened, although the meaning escaped him. "Right now, you're young. You probably don't think much about things like this." Pedro's gaze remained on the tree. "But there will be times in your life when the wind blows so fiercely that it sweeps away everything you thought you knew."
A stronger breeze passed through the branches, setting the leaves trembling overhead. "When that happens, you might find yourself somewhere unfamiliar. You might feel lost, with no idea what happened or where you're supposed to go next. You may even feel as though everything you've ever known has disappeared."
Pedro paused before placing his palm against the rough bark. "But don't forget your roots."
Elifero turned to look at him.
"Trees survive storms because their roots hold them to the ground. Their branches can break, and their leaves can fall. Sometimes, during winter, they can look completely dead." Pedro's expression softened as he looked down at his nephew. "But beneath the ground, the roots remain."
Elifero glanced back at the tree. He understood what Pedro was describing, at least literally. What he couldn't understand was why his uncle seemed so intent on making him remember it. "When life becomes difficult, remember where you came from," Pedro continued. "Even when the branches are bare and the night feels endless, the sky is still there."
He gave Elifero a small smile. "And eventually, morning comes."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The breeze moved gently between them, carrying the distant sounds of Bloom and Raim playing near the garden. Pedro reached over and patted Elifero's head. "You don't have to understand everything right now, Elifero. Just remember that you're stronger than you think. Whatever storms come your way, don't let them make you forget who you are."
Elifero nodded, though he still didn't fully understand what his uncle wanted him to take away from the conversation. He wasn't particularly concerned about it. He was young, the morning was peaceful, and Pedro was right there beside him. For Elifero, that was enough.
After a while, another thought occurred to him. He turned toward his uncle, curiosity brightening his face. "Uncle Pedro..."
"Hm?"
"What's it like...?" He hesitated, trying to find the words. "I mean, what's it like outside the village?"
Pedro raised an eyebrow. "Outside?"
"Yeah." Elifero sat up a little straighter. "It must be nice, huh? Travelling through all those places. Then coming back and telling us stories about all the strange places you've visited."
Pedro said nothing, so Elifero continued, growing more amused by his own thought. "Even though we know they're not real." He laughed softly. "You're probably just making them up to keep everyone entertained."
For a brief moment, Pedro's expression changed. Elifero didn't notice. He was still smiling, entirely unaware that his words had struck a different chord with his uncle. Pedro studied the boy beside him—his nephew, who had no idea how much truth was hidden behind those stories.
Eventually, Pedro turned his gaze toward the horizon. "The world is big." His voice was quieter now. "Maybe even bigger than you can imagine."
Elifero watched him, waiting for more. But Pedro simply rose to his feet and brushed the dirt from his clothes. He then reached down and ruffled Elifero's hair, a faint smirk returning to his face. "One day..."
Elifero looked up expectantly.
"One day, you'll see it for yourself."
Present Day
Elifero's eyes opened. His hand was still raised toward the ceiling, as though he had been reaching for something just beyond his grasp. He stared at his fingers for several seconds, trying to hold on to the memory that had just passed through his mind.
"Uncle Pedro..."
The name escaped him in a whisper.
"Mom..."
His throat tightened. "Bloom... Raim..."
Slowly, his fingers curled into a fist. He pressed it against his forehead and lowered his head as the familiar ache settled inside his chest. He could remember them—not everything, and not enough to understand what had happened or how he had ended up in Eman Village, but their names meant something to him. The memory of sitting beside Pedro beneath that tree felt real, and the thought of his mother and sisters stirred something deep within him.
Yet the more he tried to reach for those memories, the more painful they became. He didn't understand why. Eventually, he lowered his hand and swallowed. His throat was dry, and he realized he was thirsty. He glanced toward Jon, who was still asleep.
It's just water.
There was no reason to wake him over something so small. Carefully, Elifero slipped out of bed, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. The door closed behind him with a faint click.
The hallway was freezing. He moved on his toes, his bare feet pressing against the cold floorboards. Every step seemed louder than it should have been, and behind him, Jon's rhythmic snoring gradually faded as he moved farther into the house. The silence grew heavier with every step, until it felt almost suffocating.
Elifero continued toward the kitchen, then abruptly stopped. His eyes had settled on another door—Jon's mother's room. It wasn't completely closed. A narrow gap remained between the door and its frame, allowing a faint strip of grey morning light to spill into the hallway.
Elifero hesitated. He had only come out for water. He should keep walking.
Then he smelled it.
Something metallic, sharp enough to catch at the back of his throat. The scent reminded him of rusted iron and old pennies.
Then—
Cough.
Elifero froze. This cough was different from the faint sounds he'd heard the previous evening. It wasn't a simple clearing of the throat. It was wet and deep, a choking, rattling sound that seemed to rise from somewhere far inside a person's chest.
Slowly, Elifero turned toward the door. He took one careful step, then another. Another cough tore through the room, and his hand hovered near the door without quite touching it. Curiosity drew him closer, and he leaned forward, pressing one eye against the narrow opening.
The room was dark. A single candle flickered on a bedside table, its weak flame illuminating a tray beside it. Dark glass medicine bottles stood among scattered white pills, accompanied by a glass of cloudy water. Elifero barely noticed any of them. His eyes had already found the bed.
Jon's mother sat hunched over, her back curved and her body trembling with every breath. She looked as though merely remaining upright demanded more strength than she had left. One hand pressed a white cloth tightly against her mouth, and her shoulders suddenly jerked as another cough tore through her, followed by another. Her entire body convulsed with the effort.
Elifero's eyes widened as she slowly pulled the cloth away from her mouth.
He stopped breathing.
The cloth was no longer white. Dark crimson had soaked through its centre, staining the fabric with blood. A fresh drop slipped from the corner of her mouth and travelled down her chin like a red tear.
Elifero's stomach tightened. Beneath the candlelight, the woman's eyes looked sunken and hollow, her face marked by a weariness far more troubling than that of someone who simply hadn't slept. She stared silently at the blood covering the cloth, seemingly too exhausted to do anything else.
For a moment, Elifero thought back to the light cough he'd heard the previous evening, then remembered the second. Jon had dismissed both of them.
A cold.
That was what he'd said.
Jon's mother still hadn't noticed him. She didn't know a boy stood just beyond her door, watching from the shadows of the hallway. Elifero remained frozen, his thirst forgotten, the kitchen forgotten. Everything beyond the narrow gap in the door seemed to disappear, leaving only the coughing, the medicine, the blood, the trembling woman, and the crimson-stained cloth.
A cold realization slowly settled over him. Jon had been wrong.
Or perhaps...
Jon had been lying.
Elifero's fingers tightened around the doorframe as his heart began to pound. Whatever was happening in that room, it was far beyond an ordinary cold or a simple fever.
Something was seriously wrong with Jon's mother.