Desire 2

Eugene's mother began to fall ill.

At first, it was just a mild cough and weakness, but as time passed, her condition gradually worsened.

Her body grew frailer, and the sound of her coughing at night became a haunting nightmare in the young deacon's heart.

Every morning, the young deacon would pray for his mother, kneeling on the cold stone floor of the church, his forehead pressed to the ground, his voice low and devout.

He believed that God would hear his prayers and bring healing to his mother.

Every day, with unwavering faith, he entrusted her well-being to God's protection.

But reality grew harsher by the day.

Despite the young deacon's unshakable devotion, his mother's health showed no sign of improvement; instead, it worsened.

Her cough became hoarse and urgent, with each breath as agonizing as though the air was being ripped from her lungs.

The young deacon's heart ached as he struggled to understand why God had not answered his prayers.

As his mother's condition deteriorated, he felt a deep sense of helplessness.

He tried to maintain his faith, but anxiety and fear gnawed at his heart.

He no longer had enough money to seek better medical care for his mother, and his meager income was nowhere near enough to afford a doctor.

Each time he saw his mother lying on that old, worn bed, her painful cough echoing through their damp, narrow home, he was consumed by guilt and unease.

Finally, he gathered his courage and approached the young priest of the church.

He knew that the priest might be the only one who could help him.

The young priest, who possessed the power of the light element, had healed countless sick people with his light magic in the past.

"Father, my mother is gravely ill. I can no longer afford her medical treatment.

Could you please pray for her and heal her?"

Eugene's voice trembled, his eyes filled with desperation and anxiety as he pleaded with the priest.

The young priest listened quietly, his gaze filled with compassion and warmth.

He didn't say much but nodded and accompanied the young deacon to his home.

It was a simple, run-down house, the walls riddled with cracks, and the damp air within seemed to suffocate the space.

The young priest stopped by the bedside of Eugene's mother, gently extending his hand.

As he murmured softly, a warm aura filled the room, as though the radiance of the divine had descended upon them.

Miraculously, Eugene's mother's breathing steadied, her coughing subsided, and a faint color returned to her cheeks.

The young deacon fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face, overwhelmed with gratitude.

He thought it was all over—his mother's illness had been cured, and the priest's powers were proof of God's greatness and mercy.

But just as he was about to offer his thanks, the priest sighed softly.

"Eugene."

The priest spoke calmly.

"Though your mother is better for now, this place is too damp and run-down.

The poor conditions here will likely make her sick again. If you can't move her to a better place, her illness may return."

The young deacon froze, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head.

Though his mother had recovered, she still lived in this small, damp house, and he had no means to change that reality.

Eugene's face grew pale, his heart filled with bitterness and inner turmoil.

Why hadn't his devout faith brought about a better life?

Why, despite his unwavering service to God, could he not provide his mother with a decent home?

He knew the priest's words were true.

His mother's illness might return, and he was powerless to prevent it.

The young deacon turned back to look at his mother, seeing her frail figure, and a sense of discontent quietly took root in his heart.

Why, despite his devotion, was his life so difficult?

Why did he and his mother have to live in such poverty, while those who were far less devout seemed to easily enjoy a life of wealth?

One day, the young deacon stood at the entrance of the church, the sunlight slanting across his shoulders, but his heart was unusually heavy.

Although his mother had temporarily regained her health, she still lived in that damp, dilapidated house.

Every time he returned home and saw his mother coughing again due to the poor living conditions, it felt as though an invisible hand was tightly squeezing his heart.

He couldn't shake the deep sense of helplessness, as if his devotion and faith had not brought about any real change.

At that moment, a wealthy merchant entered the church.

Dressed in luxurious attire, the merchant radiated opulence, standing out starkly from the other ordinary people who had come to pray.

Eugene didn't want to pay him much attention, but the merchant quickly caught his eye.

He walked over with a seemingly friendly smile.

'Eugene, right?'

The wealthy merchant gently patted Eugene on the shoulder, his tone carrying a mix of familiarity and authority.

Eugene felt a slight discomfort, but out of duty, he politely nodded.

'Yes, is there something I can help you with?'

The merchant squinted his eyes, glancing around as if checking whether anyone was paying attention to their conversation.

Then, he leaned in closer and spoke softly.

'I've heard that your mother isn't in good health and that she needs a better place to live, correct?'

The young deacon was slightly taken aback, and a sense of caution immediately rose in his heart.

He didn't know how the merchant had come to know about these matters, but he remained calm.

'Yes, but we will manage.

Thank you for your concern.'

The merchant smiled faintly, his tone becoming even gentler, with an undertone of temptation.

'You're a good son, I admire that very much.

As a good son, I don't think you should let your mother continue living in such conditions…

In fact, I could help you.'"

The young deacon's brow furrowed slightly.

He understood the implication behind the merchant's words but remained silent.

Seeing Eugene's lack of response, the merchant pulled a heavy pouch of gold coins from the deep pockets of his wide coat.

With a casual toss, the bag landed in front of Eugene, the coins spilling onto the ground with a crisp sound.

The gold shimmered temptingly, as if waiting for Eugene's hand to reach out. 

"This bag of money is enough for your mother to move into a spacious, comfortable house, to escape that dark and damp hovel, and live the life she deserves." 

The merchant said it nonchalantly.

Eugene's breathing quickened, his heartbeat echoing in his chest. 

His eyes involuntarily glanced at the gold scattered on the floor, and an overwhelming sense of indecision surged within him. 

These coins could bring him everything. 

They could provide his mother with a respectable life and free him from the clutches of poverty. 

But what was the cost?

The merchant noticed the hesitation in Eugene's eyes and smiled slightly, lowering his voice. 

"Don't worry, I'm not asking you to do anything big. 

It's just that I've had some business troubles recently and I'd like the church to pray for me. 

I know the priest is cautious and doesn't like to get involved in worldly affairs... 

But if you could say a few good words to the priest for me, help me resolve this small issue, this money will be yours." 

The young deacon froze. 

Cold sweat spread down his spine. 

He should have immediately rejected the offer—such a bribe should have been unacceptable to him.

The gold on the ground, the chance for his mother to escape a life of poverty, weighed on his heart like a heavy stone. 

"You're just saying a few words, nothing illegal." 

The merchant's voice was low, smooth, and full of persuasion. 

"For you, this would be the easiest thing in the world." 

"Your mother deserves a better life, and you have the power to give her that." 

His breathing grew more rapid, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the bag of gold. 

He tried to calm himself, his mind flashing with the countless times he had reminded himself: *Faith is priceless, and desire will consume the soul.* 

But then he thought of his mother's pale face, her fragile form coughing in that dilapidated little house. The young deacon's resolve began to waver. 

The merchant's words felt like a poisoned thorn, deeply embedded in his heart. 

Shouldn't he strive for a better life for his mother? 

Was this truly the life God wanted for him? 

After a long silence, the young deacon's hands trembled slightly. 

It felt as if an intense war was raging inside him, with faith and desire constantly battling each other. 

Finally, he made a decision that even he found unfamiliar. 

Eugene slowly bent down and picked up the scattered gold coins. 

As his fingers touched the cold metal, his heart seemed to grow heavier.

He didn't look at the merchant but gave a small nod, his voice hoarse as he spoke. 

"I... will think about it." 

The merchant smiled in satisfaction, patting Eugene on the shoulder as he whispered. 

"This is the wisest decision you could make. 

I'm sure your mother will be grateful for it."