CHAPTER 8
1124 Words
“I’m one dollar short. I don’t like it anymore,” Earl said while checking the money in his hand again and again, like maybe the missing dollar would suddenly appear if he looked hard enough.
The small restaurant was not that noisy, but have enough of people talking, spoons hitting bowls, and steam coming from the hot soup. The smell of beef noodles was strong, and it should have made Earl feel hungry. But right now, his stomach felt tight instead.
“One dollar in debt?” the owner said, raising his eyebrow. His tone was not friendly anymore. “I’ll give you more bowls of beef,” he added with a strange smile. “So then I could take that bracelet your father is wearing.”
Earl froze.
The bracelet.
It was old, simple, not something expensive looking. But Earl knew it was important. His father had been wearing it for years. It was one of the few things left from his mother. Something with memories.
“No. We’re not eating these foods!” his father suddenly said firmly. His voice was weak but stubborn. He immediately pushed the bowl slightly away, like refusing the offer completely.
The owner’s face darkened.
“You’re trying to eat for free? Huh? Give that bracelet to me!” he shouted.
Before Earl could react, the owner suddenly grabbed his father’s wrist. The movement was rough and sudden. His father tried to pull back, holding the bracelet tightly, refusing to let go.
“Stop! Don’t touch him!” Earl said, panic rising in his chest.
But the owner didn’t listen.
He pulled harder.
His father resisted, but his body was already weak from hunger and age. The struggle lasted only seconds. Suddenly, his father lost balance.
Everything happened too fast.
His body fell backward, hitting the corner of the table.
A dull sound echoed.
Then blood.
It started flowing from his father’s head.
“Dad!” Earl shouted, his voice breaking. He rushed forward and held him, shaking slightly. “Dad! Wake up! Dad!”
But his father didn’t respond.
His eyes were closed. His body was limp.
Blood continued to spread, staining his hair and the floor.
Earl’s hands trembled badly. He didn’t know what to do. His mind went blank. Fear crawled through his chest like ice.
“No… no… someone help… please…” he said, almost whispering, almost crying.
People around them started murmuring. Some stood up. Some just watched. No one immediately stepped forward.
The owner’s face changed when he saw the blood.
“No, I didn’t do anything to him,” the owner claimed quickly, his voice defensive, like he was protecting himself first. Then he pushed them away to the restaurant.
When they got pushed away by the owner, Earl almost lost his balance while holding his father. The restaurant door slammed shut behind them, like they were nothing. Like they didn’t matter.
Rain was pouring outside.
It was afternoon, but the sky looked dark because of the heavy clouds. The street was not busy. Only a few vehicles passed by, splashing water on the wet road. Cold wind hit Earl’s face, but he didn’t even feel it. All he could feel was fear.
He carefully lowered his father to the ground, supporting his head with his arm.
“Father… Father… wake up!” Earl exclaimed, his voice shaking badly.
His father didn’t respond.
Blood was still flowing from the wound on his head, mixing with the rainwater on the pavement.
Earl’s chest tightened.
“You collected trash… just to fund my college days…” he said, his voice breaking into sobs. “But now I couldn’t even buy you a bowl of noodles…”
Tears mixed with rain on his face. He didn’t even know anymore which was which.
He held his father closer, trembling.
The guilt was crushing him.
All those years… his father worked so hard. Endured humiliation. Carried heavy sacks of garbage. Just to send him to school. Just so Earl could have a better future.
And now…
He couldn’t even protect him.
He couldn’t even feed him properly.
What kind of son was he?
His hands shook as he tried to wipe the blood from his father’s face, but it kept coming back.
“Please… someone help… please…” he whispered, but the street remained almost empty.
Then suddenly…
A familiar car stopped across the road.
Earl slowly lifted his head.
Inside the car, through the rain-covered window, he saw her.
Kennah.
She was sitting there calmly, looking at them.
Watching.
Her expression was unreadable. Not worried. Not shocked. Just… watching.
Like she was waiting.
Like she was testing him.
Like she was waiting for him to finally break.
Earl’s jaw tightened.
Then he remembered her words earlier.
“Without me, you won’t be able to survive in the city.”
“Contact me when you think it through.”
His chest burned.
“I know you’re just waiting for me to ask for help…” he muttered to himself, his voice full of pain and anger. “But why? Why, Kennah… after deceiving me… after crushing all my self-respect… you still want to humiliate me?”
His fists clenched.
“My family… making us crawl like insects and beg for help…”
He paused, breathing heavily.
“Just because you’re rich?” he added bitterly.
Rain kept falling around them. Cars passed by. No one stopped.
Earl looked down at his father again.
His breathing was weak.
Time was running.
Fear started rising inside him again.
What if something happens?
What if he loses him?
Panic crept into his mind.
Then suddenly…
Another memory appeared.
Meave.
Her calm face.
Her serious eyes.
Her voice.
“When you made up your mind, call me anytime.”
Earl froze slightly.
The contract.
The information she gave him.
Her offer.
A billion dollars.
Treatment.
Companionship for her son.
Two years.
Divorce after.
At that time, it felt impossible.
Unreal.
But now…
Right now…
His father was bleeding in his arms.
Reality was cruel.
Slowly, Earl moved one hand toward his pocket.
His fingers touched something hard.
Paper.
He pulled it out.
The calling card.
Meave’s calling card.
Rain drops fell on it, making the ink slightly blur, but the number was still clear.
Earl stared at it.
His heart was beating loudly.
Behind him, Kennah was still inside her car.
Waiting.
Watching.
Like a predator waiting for prey to surrender.
Earl’s hand trembled.
This moment felt heavy.
Like his entire life was standing at a crossroads.
Pride.
Pain.
Family.
Survival.
All mixing together.
He looked down at his unconscious father again.
Then back at the card in his hand.
He didn’t move.
He just stared at it.
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