"You're fortunate that your mother was able to heal you. During that frenzy, you lost at least half of your health," Little Helper remarks.

I retort, "Hey, you were the one who encouraged me to keep going before changing your mind and becoming concerned about my health."

Little Helper explains, "I was torn between your mental and physical well-being. I knew you had to get out of there, or you'd do something you'd later regret. I had no idea you were going to resort to using your hands like that. My role as a Little Helper is to provide you with information about items and yourself. I have no knowledge of what's happening in the outside world. You can either ask your parents or discover it on your own. It's time to confront them now that you've been in the unknown for a while."

For the past hour, I've been lying on the ground, pretending to sleep. Part of me still hesitates to face my parents, while the other part relishes the sensation of the grass beneath me. For the first five years of my life, I was confined to my bed or the hard floor, so the feeling of grass is incredible. I envision having a small house surrounded by nature once I resolve the world's issues. I hope that doesn't come across as too much of a Druid thing, considering I am half-dragon.

Little Helper interrupts, exasperated, "Oh, for God's sake, just confront them!"

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Summoning my courage, I speak up, addressing my parents, "Mother, father, I have some questions." My mother immediately lifts her head and embraces me, while I can sense my father trying to hide his embarrassment by wiping away his tears.

"Why did you do that, you foolish child?" my mother asks as she rubs my back.

"I couldn't bear it any longer! Being confined in that room for so long! It felt like I was trapped in a cage, and when I saw that light, I couldn't resist the temptation of freedom," I explain. My father's face displays pain, but my mother's expression reveals curiosity.

"What do you mean, 'for all these years'?" she inquires. I realize that the words have slipped from my lips, and I quickly come up with a response.

"You know how you always say things like I'm smart and a genius? Well, you're not entirely wrong. I can't pinpoint when it happened, but suddenly, I started feeling smart. I understood what you were saying and wanted to do what you were doing. Walking was a struggle for me; it was a disaster. I knew what I needed to do, but lacked the strength to do it," I explain.

"We always assumed you were too young to comprehend your situation, but it seems we were mistaken. You were well aware that you were trapped in this space. Did you think we were holding you as a prisoner?" my mother expresses her concern.

"I knew there was a deeper meaning behind it; I just didn't know what," I reply, shaking my head. "I tried to bring it up occasionally, but you always seemed to avoid the topic. I felt sad and angry at times, but I never considered myself a prisoner. If anything, I saw myself as stuck. Now, could you please explain why I was confined to that room and why we are in this massive cave?"

My father walks over, takes a seat beside me, and gently places a kiss on my head. "It's going to be a long story, son."