It's been over nine years, nearly a decade since I lost my parents.

Emrys roused himself from sleep, casting aside the blanket as sunlight streamed into his room, casting warm hues across the antique furniture and floral-patterned wallpaper. The room bore the timeless elegance of the era, with ornate wooden dressers adorned with delicate lace doilies and a canopy bed draped in rich velvet curtains.

As I stretched and yawned, I couldn't shake the memories that flooded my mind every morning—the laughter of my parents, and the warmth of their embrace. But those memories were quickly replaced by the reality of my new life, shaped by tragedy and guided by Mr. Smith, or simply Smith now, who had become my guardian.

Stepping into the bathroom of the medium-sized house, Emrys gazed at his reflection in the ornate mirror framed with intricate carvings. The bathroom exuded its charm with its porcelain fixtures, clawfoot bathtub, and intricately patterned tiles that adorned the walls.

I picked up the toothbrush, the bristles soft against my teeth as I recalled Smith's explanation about my changed appearance. He had taken measures to dye my hair a dark black upon my arrival, a precautionary step to conceal my resemblance to my parents from the ever-watchful eyes of the Titlantian army. Yet, despite his efforts, the truth remains etched in my features, a silent reminder of the past I couldn't escape.

The rhythmic sound of brushing teeth filled the air, mingling with the gentle hum of plumbing. Each stroke of the brush felt like a ritual, a mundane task amidst the complexities of my existence. And as Emrys stared at his reflection, he couldn't help but wonder if this disguise was merely a facade, a feeble attempt to mask the truth that lay beneath the surface.

Now, I’m about 17 years old and at the year 50, I work at Smith’s Great Diner, a restaurant that Smith ran after he retired as a scavenger. My main job is to be a waiter, however, I have other intentions too.

Emrys wore his brown coat and brown leather hat, getting ready to leave the house for a morning stroll outside.

I was somewhat known around the city because of my connection with Smith, however many people disliked me too.

There were people such as Damien Schneider, who despised anti-monarchy topics when we worked together. And, I continue to blabber about it because that's something I’m very passionate about.

Thankfully, he hasn’t said anything to the soldiers, and if he did I would’ve died a long time ago.

Emrys strolled through the bustling city streets, exchanging waves and greetings with a diverse array of people he passed. Eventually, he reached the outskirts of the city, arriving at the dense, forbidden forest he had fled from at the tender age of eight—a place steeped in mystery and haunted by memories of his parents' tragic fate.

I usually come back to my cabin often, to remember the heartfelt memories of my parents.

Of course, I come in days when there are not a lot of soldiers around to lessen the arousal of suspicion.

Emrys stepped into the weathered cabin, its once pristine charm now marred by neglect and time's relentless march. The wooden structure bore the weight of years gone by, evident in the peeling paint and creaking floorboards that echoed with each cautious step. The musty scent of old wood and dampness lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of decaying leaves seeping through cracks in the walls.

The main living area, adorned with a simple fireplace and a worn rug, bore witness to years of solitude. The hearth, now cold and empty, stood as a silent sentinel of past warmth and comfort. A single window allowed slivers of dim light to filter in, casting shadows that danced across the faded wallpaper.

Emrys made his way to the small bedroom where he had once slept alongside his parents, the memories of laughter and safety now tinged with sorrow. The room held a weathered bed, its sheets faded and threadbare, a testament to the passage of time and the hardships endured within these walls.

As he ventured further, Emrys entered the modest bathroom, its once gleaming fixtures now dulled with age and neglect. The porcelain sink bore stains of rust, and the mirror reflected a distorted image, a stark reminder of the cabin's fading grandeur.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Emrys would sit at the front of the door, where his parents originally had died. Remembering their sorrowful souls, he touched the dirty ground.

I’ve been exploring this cabin quite a lot because when I first started to come back here, I noticed that my parents had tons of interesting things in their room.

Such as a large book with roughly around four thousand pages, that I finished in just a few months.

Emrys once again entered his parent's room, getting the book out of the shelf, reminiscing the time he read it.

The book was a story.

More importantly, a story of my parents when they first met and their current story.

Emrys leafed through the book with eager anticipation, each page a portal to cherished memories of the tales spun by his parents. The worn pages whispered echoes of their voices, weaving a tapestry of warmth and love within his heart. As he reached the final chapter, he lingered on the words, savoring the bittersweet nostalgia that washed over him.

Closing the book gently, Emrys returned it to its place on the slightly askew shelf, a repository of treasured moments frozen in time. With a soft exhale, he brushed away the lingering dust, a tender gesture to preserve the sanctity of these cherished stories for future visits.

The faint scent of aged paper and old memories enveloped him, a comforting embrace amidst the quiet solitude of the cabin. Emrys smiled, knowing that within these pages lay not just stories, but fragments of his parents' legacy that he carried within him, a beacon of hope and resilience in the face of loss.

Emrys would search his coat for his pocket watch, seeing that his restaurant shift was coming up, he hurriedly left the cabin and started to run straight down to the city.

Damnit! I spent a tad bit of time here! Smith is going to yell at me! I have to get to the restaurant quickly!

Emrys dashed into the bustling city streets, his pace quickening with each step as he navigated through the sea of people. In his haste, he accidentally bumped into an elderly lady, causing her belongings to scatter across the pavement. Without hesitation, Emrys stooped down to gather the items, his heart racing with urgency.

“Sorry, ma’am!” he exclaimed breathlessly, handing back the items he had inadvertently caused to fall.

“It's quite alright, young lad,” the old lady replied with a gentle smile, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “Such things happen in the rush of life.”

Emrys nodded gratefully, offering a sincere apology once more before continuing on his way, the brief encounter serving as a reminder of the kindness and resilience that threaded through the fabric of the city.

Emrys finally made it back to their house, entering it as quickly as possible. He would breathe heavily at the door hoping that Smith had already left for the restaurant.

He opened the door.

"You're late, Emrys," Smith's voice boomed from the chair where he sat, his large white beard swaying slightly in the breeze that swept through the open door. His eyes bore into Emrys as he gestured toward a pocket watch in his hand. "Timekeeping is crucial, my boy. Being tardy might cost you more than just a few minutes."

Emrys swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the pocket watch in Smith's hand. The weight of the old man's words settled heavily on his shoulders, reminding him of the importance of punctuality in a world that valued timeliness above all else.

“It won’t happen again!” Emrys said in a rush, he would go upstairs to get ready.

Smith chuckled at the scene.

“I’ll be heading to my restaurant now, come quick after you're finished getting ready.”

Emrys frantically rummaged through his drawer, his fingers fumbling through ties and accessories in a desperate search for the bow tie he wore for his restaurant job. With each passing second, his heart pounded louder in his chest, a growing sense of panic knotting in his stomach. He glanced at the clock on the wall, its ticking sound mocking his urgency.

The drawer yielded nothing but a mess of mismatched items, causing Emrys to curse under his breath. He moved swiftly to his closet, throwing the doors open with a mixture of hope and anxiety. To his surprise, the closet was impeccably organized, a stark contrast to the chaos of his drawer. Smith had tidied up, neatly arranging all his waiter uniforms in a row.

Relief washed over Emrys as he spotted the familiar bow tie among the neatly hung uniforms. He let out a sigh, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly. The thought of facing his boss without the proper attire had sent a wave of panic through him, but now that he had found what he needed, a semblance of calm returned.

"Thank you, Smith," Emrys muttered gratefully, his gaze lingering on the organized closet. The small act of tidying up meant more to him than he could express. It was a reminder of the care and support he received in this unfamiliar city, a lifeline amidst the chaos of his daily life. With his uniform in hand, Emrys hurriedly dressed, ready to face the challenges of another day at work.

Emrys wore his black vest and his white shirt with the long bow tie, he’d wear his fancy black shoes and tidy up his hair as he parted it in the middle.

Emrys left the house, heading to work.