17 Chapter 17

The following night, Uriel went back to the spirits' lair deep in the forest as if that place had been more of a refuge to him than a frightening and mysterious world.

He was more at ease there than he was at Olia Isema's house.

It felt like he was running away whenever he'd turn his back from that house.

He knew from the start that the answers he's seeking lies within this same village, near those crops, and somewhere in this land.

As soon as he got past the boundary, the azure ghost greeted him with an irritated look as if an insect had come to bother him again.

"Thank you for letting me return here, Sinclair," The boy said with heartfelt honesty. "It was really a relief to be here again. I just can't seem to relax myself inside her house."

"Well, duh, that old hag's a bit of a psycho," Sinclair retorted like it was a matter of fact. "Not that I've really interacted with her. But according to your stories back then, she seemed to be really quite a handful bitch."

Uriel comfortably sat around a bush and hugged his knees and legs.

"Now that you mentioned it, what was I like back then before I lost my memories? How did I tell you stories about her? And what was my relationship with her?"

Sinclair floated up at a nearby branch of a tree across the boy. "Beats me. You just kept saying how much you hate her. Maybe she's your grandma, since that's how you call her then. Well, looking back, it sounds better that you're just calling her an old woman. You're making it seem like you've cut ties from her."

"Well, I don't really remember her at all, which I find weird. I was able to recall even just a bit of my parents' names, but I can't recall the old woman at all. Maybe I didn't really want to remember her? Anyway, how was I like back then?"

Sinclair stared at him for a while and let out a sigh. "You're completely different. It feels like I've encountered some other person. Back then, you were really calm and fearless. Not particularly smart, but you were pretty good at observing things quietly. You take your time thinking about things before doing anything rash. Now, you're just a wimpy and reckless crybaby."

Uriel curled up even more, being ashamed.

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to turn out like this."

"I don't really care either way, but you were a bit cooler before you lost your memories. Not the typical child who thinks crying and apologizing would let him get through anything."

"But Sinclair, how did we first meet then? Wasn't I scared or anything? Since I lost my memories, all the encounters and circumstances that shaped my personality then were back to square one. So right now, I'm most likely just relying on my emotions and instincts. I must've been scared back then, but only pretended not to be. Don't you think so too?"

Sinclair stared back at the child, comparing it to the person he met first.

The child he's looking at right now isn't feigning or feeling anything much compared to his previous self and it somehow felt relieving.

Back then, as far as he remembered, the first emotion he saw from the boy was something he couldn't comprehend – one that isn't what he normally sees in a human.

It was near to nothingness and to the darkness he's living in.

Back then, the same boy seemed so fed up and exhausted with his own world that it was as if he couldn't feel anything.

The boy was numb, gentle, and cunning.

When Sinclair first saw the boy's eyes that were blank slates, he knew that his existence won't scare the boy.

"Yeah, you pretended not to be scared," Sinclair lied to the honest and current Uriel. "You were acting cool and composed."