How It All Began II

'He's a foreigner. No wonder he sounds a bit weird,' I thought, curiosity mingling with my apprehension. I couldn't help but ask, "Where are you from?"

A shadow passed over his face, a fleeting sadness that seemed to deepen the lines of his age. "I'm afraid it's not a place you've ever heard of or seen. I thought that if you had a bit of a head start, things would be easier for you, but it seems I was wrong. They were right about one thing—fate cannot be rushed."

"Huh? What are you talking about, elder?" I asked, confused by his cryptic words.

He sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of things unsaid. "I'm afraid I don't have the luxury to wait for you or give you a proper explanation, as my time is almost over. So, I will leave something with you. Can I please ask you to accept this?"

There was a quiet intensity in his eyes as he reached into his cloak, pulling out a small, weathered book. The cover was old, the leather cracked and worn, with a clasp shaped like a crescent moon. The book seemed to hum softly, a faint vibration that I could feel in my bones, and a strange warmth radiated from it, as though it held some hidden power.

A sense of unease settled over me. I didn't like where this was going. "I'm sorry, but I cannot accept this," I said, shaking my head. "My mother warned me against accepting things from strangers."

The old man chuckled again, a sound that was both amused and sad. "Haha, young one, you play alone in an almost deserted alleyway but refuse to accept a book from an old man who could be as old as your grandfather?" he said, holding it out to me. "It's nothing special. Just an ordinary novel for kids your age to read—at least for now," he whispered, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone.

A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had been watching me. For how long? My wariness flared again. "How long have you been watching me?" I asked, my voice tense.

"Only since you started walking towards the alleyway. But I'm curious—why don't you play with the other kids at the playground much closer to your house? Why do you isolate yourself?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "Because I can't get along with them. They seem childish and naïve."

He nodded slowly, his eyes full of understanding that I found unsettling. "You fear human interaction, don't you, child? You fear what once happened to you in the past will happen again. As your elder, I would advise you to let go of your fears and embrace human interaction, even if it may be fleeting. You will come to regret your actions in the future if you don't."

His words struck a nerve. I felt a surge of anger, defensive and raw. "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH! I don't want to be rude, but I believe you have no right to lecture me, elder," I snapped, my voice trembling with emotion.

The old man's expression softened, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes. "I was once like you," he said quietly. "Always stubborn and focused on my work, neglecting the people around me. I paid a dear price for it, but what I fear now is for them. I do not wish for my negligence to cause the people I love to suffer."

Something in his voice, in the way he spoke, made me pause. I could feel the sincerity in his words, the regret that laced every syllable. My curiosity won out over my caution. "What if the suffering and pain we experience come from those very loved ones?" I asked, the question tumbling out before I could stop myself.

The old man's eyes lit up with a spark of something—hope, perhaps, or relief. Before I could react, he reached out and placed the book in my hand. It all happened so quickly that I barely registered the movement. "I truly sympathize with what you've been through, young one, but I have run out of time. I would have liked for you to go there a bit earlier, but it seems you're not ready. Hence, I will entrust this to you and pray that it will help you in the endeavors to come."

As he spoke, a soft white glow began to emanate from his hand, spreading to mine and then into my body. It was over in a second, a brief flash of warmth that left me dazed and confused. I didn't even notice it fully at the time, still reeling from the shock of how fast the old man had moved despite his age.

"I would like to continue our chat, but it seems my time has come," he said, his voice growing fainter. "I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for talking to this old man in his final hours, and I apologize for the hardships you will have to face in the future. Please remember this: never lose yourself, even if things don't seem to be going your way. Never stop hoping for the best in your heart."

A sense of déjà vu washed over me, and I shuddered. 'How does he know that saying?' I wondered, a chill creeping up my spine. The old man began to walk away, his figure already fading into the twilight. Just as I was about to turn and once again politely reject the book from him, I heard his voice, barely a whisper, "How honorable—just keep that for me, will you, child, until someone comes to claim it?"

I spun around to call after him, realizing too late that I didn't even know his name. But when I turned back, the path was empty. The old man was gone, as if he had never been there. The book in my hand slipped from my grasp, falling to the ground with a soft thud.