Chapter 4

However, the people waiting at the door were not my parents.

It was Cyrus Grant, a coworker from the factory.

Downstairs, the landlord’s curses echoed through the building.

“Go and ask Landon what the hell he is doing. Is he dead in there or something? The whole place stinks to high heaven, and I am the one getting yelled at by the tenants downstairs every damn day.

“If I had known you poor bastards would treat the place like this, I never would have rented it to you. You finally have somewhere to live, and you do not even know how to take care of it.”

Cyrus said nothing.

He walked shakily over to the table and picked up the bottle of pesticide. Then he suddenly broke down sobbing.

“I was worried you might do something stupid, so I came to check on you. I just never thought… If I had known this was going to be your last meal, I would have advanced you some of your wages and taken you out for a proper meal.

“You were always so careful with money. You never let yourself eat anything good. And now you are gone without ever getting to have a decent meal.”

So there really was someone who genuinely cared about me.

However, I was already a ghost.

There was nothing I could do. I could not even comfort him.

Cyrus cleaned up my room and carefully placed my body into a bag.

“I will take you back to our hometown, Landon. You belong back where you came from.”

He hoisted the bag onto his shoulder.

Fortunately, I had been nothing but skin and bones after years of poverty, so it was not too heavy for him.

I followed behind him, unable to stop myself from rambling.

‘Keep your money and use it to find yourself a wife. Whatever you do, do not waste it on a coffin for me. Just wrap me in a straw mat and bury me somewhere.’

After nearly twenty years of living in poverty, my life was worth so little. I could not bear to let him spend his hard-earned money on me.

After we descended one flight of stairs, I suddenly heard Mom and Dad complaining.

“Was not everything we did for his own good? If we handed that kind of fortune to anyone else, they would be on their knees thanking us. And he still has the nerve to throw a tantrum at us, forcing us to come to this dump over and over again. Now he has gotten Jaxon hospitalized with a respiratory infection. If anything happens to him, I swear I will never forgive Landon.”

Cyrus had never met my parents before. Yet he knew at once that these were wealthy people he could not afford to offend.

So he lowered his head and stepped aside to let them pass.

The stairwell was narrow. The bag inevitably brushed against Mom’s hair.

“Are you blind? Did you not see that you hit me? Honestly, what is wrong with you poor people? Why are you all so damn rude? Or are you trying to scam me for money?”

Mom’s shrill voice drew the attention of the neighbors, who began opening their doors to see what was happening.

Cyrus’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment.

“I am sorry…”

He bowed to Mom, nervously tightening his grip on the bag over his shoulder.

Perhaps she was simply sick of having to come back to a place that disgusted her, or maybe she was furious because my disobedience had gotten Jaxon sick.

Whatever the reason, she shoved Cyrus hard, dumping all her anger onto him.

“You think saying ‘sorry’ makes everything okay? Did I say I forgive you? You poor people always think you can escape responsibility with one pathetic little apology, do you not?”

Cyrus lost his footing and tumbled down the stairs. His arm scraped against the steps, blood immediately running from the wound.

“I am sorry. I really did not mean to. I will pay you back.”

He knelt on the floor and pulled every last bill from his pocket, pleading desperately.

“Could you please leave me a thousand? I need to buy my friend a coffin.”

I tried to pull him to his feet, but my hands passed right through him. I could not touch him.

Mom was still sneering, her voice light and condescending.

“Poor, and you still want to waste money on a coffin? Just burn him and scatter the ashes in some filthy ditch. It will save you the money.”

Her words were cruel and cutting. She was insulting Cyrus, but were they not just as much an insult to me?

Mom, do you know?

Just because we were poor, I had to scrape together enough money for your medical bills and Dad’s treatment…

I had heard people say things like that to me, too. They told me I was born with a worthless life. That my very existence was a waste of air, and that even dying would only waste a patch of earth.

“Enough.”

Dad rubbed his temples, clearly irritated. “Getting our son is more important.”

Mom was still seething.

Then she noticed Cyrus’s ashen face, and the way he was clutching that bag as though his life depended on it.

She stormed over and yanked it away.

“What are you hiding in there? Some kind of treasure? Did you steal something?”

Then Mom’s eyes fell unexpectedly on my bruised, purple face.

I drifted toward her and looked at her calmly.

‘Mom, are you satisfied with the results of this little trial you put me through?’