Papa’s Name

In the heart of the slum, where the dim streetlights struggled to pierce the suffocating darkness, a desolate alley lay hidden from the bustling city life.

The air was thick with a pungent stench, a medley of rot and decay that seemed to cling to every surface. An eerie silence loomed, broken only by the distant sounds of sirens and the occasional scuttling of vermin.

Amid this grim scene, a young boy with unkempt black hair and piercing blue eyes scoured the debris-laden alley. His tattered clothes clung to his shivering form, barely offering any protection against the biting cold.

With bony fingers, he rummaged through a rusty trash can, hoping to find even the tiniest morsel of food to fill his growling stomach.

The dampness of the alley seeped into his bones, and the damp ground beneath his feet felt like a cruel reminder of his wretched existence.

He had grown accustomed to the bleakness, the hunger, and the loneliness that seemed to follow him everywhere.

There.

He found a stale ball of rice inside a black plastic bag.

It was rancid. But still 'food' nevertheless. So he opened his mouth to devour it.

SLAP!

"Spit it out!"

Sorin was shocked when out of nowhere, a man slapped the back of his back and forced him to spit out his dinner.

"Come on! Spit it out!"

He was an old man. A wooden cane in his hand had fallen to the ground as he tried his best to force Sorin to spit out the stale rice.

Sorin was slapped multiple times on his back. But even though it wasn't that hard of slaps, he felt attacked.

"LET ME GO! WHY ARE YOU HITTING ME?!"

"Gosh, child! Don't you know it's dangerous to eat from trash? You could get food poisoning! You could die!" the elderly man said.

"It's okay! I'm used to it! So LET ME GO!"

"Ain't gonna do that," the grandpa dragged him out of the alley. "Come, I will buy you some food."

Sorin stopped thrashing the moment the old man offered to give him food. He looked at that wrinkly face that frowned at him.

"Augh... what a poor boy."

***

Grandpa Henry sighed.

To think that the poor boy that he had to leave because of his heavenly restriction would come up to be the new sovereign...

Among the sovereigns in this room, Grandpa Henry was actually the weakest with the least authority. His reign was simply 'the Voice of Heaven', which meant he only had the power to preach.

Yes, his preaching would be heard and remembered by most people because it was his innate talent.

And even though he could defeat demons and their connections with his words, he lacked the authority to assist people who were not directly affected by the demons themselves.

It was heaven's attempt to manage balance and prevent a bigger threat from emerging.

He, the old, wandering preacher, was helpless.

But now, seeing the boy had become a young man, chosen by even heaven, he felt a deep sense of guilt.

That boy had endured too much traumatic experience. Would that be wise to make him go through a more arduous journey?

But, if he tried to argue with that excuse, the other sovereigns might be insulted by it.

Since all of them also had their fair share of traumatic experiences.

"It seems our daughter was the closest to you when you awakened your unique reign. And that's why she was the one teleported to you," the leader said.

"What?" Sorin just realized. Where did Elara come from out of nowhere, and how...

"It's a countermeasure if you failed the quest, she was there to observe, and the heavenly restriction forbade her to intervene with your quest," the long black-haired man explained.

"Were you in the middle of something, Daughter?" he asked Elara.

"Yes, Papa. It seems I was also the only one with less urgent priorities than all of us," Elara answered.

"Okay," the man nodded. "You, Daughter, and our son will be in charge of Sorin's enlightenment."

"Ah? With Brother too?" Elara blinked.

"Well, you wanted Sorin to have his normal life back, so we need someone else who wants him to join us," he reminded.

"I understand, Papa," the blonde man accepted.

"If that's agreed upon, then let's conclude this meeting," the leader said.

But Sorin felt like they had forgotten something extremely important.

"Excuse me, Sir," he called.

The man looked back at him and then nodded. "Yes, speak."

"I... I still don't know how to address you all..." Sorin said carefully.

"Hmm," the leader nodded. "Alright, let's introduce ourselves, shall we."

Suddenly, a solemn silence enveloped the room.

The long black-haired man said with a serious, straight face and an earnest, deep voice. "My name is Papa."

Dot... dot... dot...

Eh?

"And this is my wife, Mama," he reached to his right, where the beautiful white-haired woman sat.

"Hello, Sorin! You can call me Mama," she waved at him with a wiggle of her fingers.

"You've known Grandpa Heinrich. And this is Aunt and Uncle," he introduced the bearded man and the dark-skinned woman next.

All of that with a solemn, straight face.

"To your right is Elara, our daughter, and you can call the boy to your left, Brother."

The blonde man beside him smiled wider at him. "Nice to meet you!"

Sorin was still speechless.

Were they being serious?

"Do you have any questions?" the leader, Papa, asked.

"Yes," Sorin solemnly said. "Even though I can make sense of everything else, I'm starting to think that you guys are trying to make fun of me. Do you want me to believe your name is Papa?"

"Pffft—hahahah..." Mama couldn't hold her laugh, making Papa suddenly let out an embarrassed blush.

Sorin flinched as he sensed a deep annoyance coming from Papa as he asked the question. But other than Mama, the other people at the table started to pale, just like Sorin when he realized he had made a mistake.

Papa's cold crimson eyes pierced right into his eyes as he said, "Are you sure you want to hear my real name?"

Sorin didn't know why, but this time, his curiosity won. Since they kept refusing to say any names except his name and Elara's, he felt that there was something more to it.

"Alright. Listen closely," Papa said, this time with an aloof voice.

The people around him started to close their ears one by one.

And as he glanced at Elara... with a resigned face, she just started to fold her ear forward with her hand and rubbed them back and forth to block any sound.

A shiver ran down Sorin's spine.

Papa's clearly annoyed face and Mama's playful giggle filled his sight. Well, Mama and Grandpa didn't cover their ears, so it's going to be okay, right?

Wrong.

As Papa opened his mouth and as a vibration of sound started to travel through the air, Sorin heard his own skull shattering.

CRACK! SPLAT!

The sides of Sorin's face exploded. No. It was his cochlear.

He felt sharp and burning pain across his whole body before slowly his ears regenerated and healed. Then, white noise.

Papa's eyes stared at him with an inexplicably complicated emotion buried within. He could subtly see guilt among it too.

And after his shock settled, the man calmly asked him, "Do you still want to try hearing my name?"