After what felt like forever, I finally arrived in front of my ‘house.’

Or what I thought it would be

Opening my eyes, what greeted me was a house with great lighting. I walked quietly to the window and looked over

I saw a family of three sitting around a table, a man in his thirties with an acceptable look currently talking merrily with a beautiful woman with long flaxen hair; their son was talking as he lifted his fork to deliver steak that smelled heavenly.

Yup. This is really not my house, but the village head's house. As expected of the second richest person in the village, he ate a pepper steak that misled me into his place.

Sniffing around for a moment, I also smell what I thought to be a wine

It was not from their dining table because I didn’t see a bottle of wine over there; the smell is coming from what I believe is the basement area.

The village head is the only brewer in this village; his family has made wine since the founding of this village, at least if the idle gossip of the neighborhood aunties was true. He was also a person who liked to share his wealth.

Mainly by donating his wine at the village festival and giving pocket money to children at every new year that also served as a cover for him giving his illegitimate child a gift from what I suspected.

The current village head is from the fifth generation, and in his time the brewery expanded thanks to him and my father's efforts. That is why he can share his wealth without much burden on his mind.

Why and how did my father help him?

The only entertainment in this village is food, sex, and alcohol, and some festival that may or may not happen, so when my father started coordinating with the farmer as their head, the first thing they did was ask him to grow more grapes, which my father did, and the village head brewery was expanded as a result.

My father and he were best friends since then, or at least the village head saw him like that, as he often came to meet him regularly as he brought along a gift, which my father often refused.

Ending my idle thoughts, I close my eyes. I leave the village head house and continue my journey home.

I really need to train with my sense of balance if I want to survive this test. The bruise and scrape I got are not much, but they will surely accumulate as I stumble and fall down again and again.

I need a teacher!

Who? Cain? Nope, not him. This is the test he gave me in the first place, and if I ask him for training, he will just say, “Did you give up already?” while giving me a condescending look.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Is there anyone with a great sense of balance in this village?

“Meow”

The answer suddenly came to me. Cats are the animals who have the greatest sense of balance. If a human can't do it, then ask an animal.

I just need to follow and observe how a cat walks and follow their example.

Smiling from the great revelation that delivered itself to me, I continue my way home, and after another round of painful bruises, I finally stand in front of my ‘home.’

Or I hope so!

How many houses in this village can cook with a pepper? If they have it, then they better pray that I won’t steal it from them.

I thought as I opened my eyes and relieved as I finally got the right house.

Standing in my view was a house that is not bigger than the other house around the area, with, oh, not so great lighting.

Different from the village head house that used a magic lamp as a source of light, our house only used an oil lamp as our lighting. I still remember when the village head, Uncle Mark, offered to give us some of his magic lamp.

My father refused him and said, “What use is a magic lamp for a mere farmer? We wake up at dawn and rest at sundown; we don’t need such extravagant things in our house.”

My father was a modest man with simple wants; as long as he could feed his family, he was happy. At least that's what he said to me; I remember it only because he told me repeatedly in his lecture.

I opened the door to my house and turned around. Cain was standing in front of me.

“I finished the test. Will we continue this training for the next couple of months?” I said while not feeling surprised at his presence.

Even though I didn’t know where he was looking, I just knew he was always following me behind.

He was surprisingly a caring man; the only reason that I dared to play in the forest part where beasts roamed was because I knew he would be there to protect me.

Cain nodded his head. “Yes, but we will only do this once a week, and we will do it at a different place each time, so prepare yourself for that!” He waved his hand and suddenly disappeared from my view.

I sometimes question myself if he was a hunter or an assassin.

But when I thought about it, hunters and assassins are not that much different; they are both making a living out of killing.

What differentiates them is that hunters kill beasts while assassins kill people.

I entered my home before a sudden realization struck me.

‘Do I have to drink that rotten egg-flavored potion again?’

“…”

Better not to think too much of it; right now I am hungry, and food is the top priority, as I want to wash the rotten egg taste from my tongue.

What will I make today? Will I stew meat better, or will I make some rabbit skewer or maybe some grilled fish?

I can’t wait to try them all.

When I made my way to our dining table, which also serves as a living room, I looked at the dinner that had already been served.

It seems I was too late getting home as my father had finished cooking even though this was my turn.

It was some basic gruel served with some cheese.

Even though it was a decent meal, I still feel unsatisfied.

“What’s wrong?” father asking me as he saw me frowning

“Nothing,” I replied, my shoulder sinking as I felt terribly exhausted.

My father didn’t ask me why I am covered in wounds, as this is not the first time that this has happened. I was a child that liked to roam the outskirts of the forest, so I was often scraped by some plant with thorns.

I sat down and started to eat with my dad, and after that, I finished with my meal. I got up and made my way to my room, feeling frustrated.

Wanting a delicious meal is a normal thing to hope for after a hard day of training; the result of getting home late is really coming back to bite me.

Swearing to myself that I will finish the next one faster, I go to my bed and close my eyes.