Kain, almost feeling desperate or paranoid, began to take apart the pile of chairs that sat in the corner. He pulled them out, one by one, until he had a row of old chairs, an old army helmet, and a long case. Reaching for the case, he stopped for a moment. He knew he was being paranoid and silly, but he was a bit afraid that this box contained something he wasn’t supposed to see. It was likely due to the web-novels he had read that he was thinking like that. A typical start to a story is finding something mystical in a bland and boring world. He did not want to be the main character of such a story. However, his curiosity drew him to the case, and it did not let up due to some wild fantasies. Struggling for a moment, he finally resolved to open the box.
Once he had finished distracting himself with imaginative stories, he finally examined the box in more detail. It was a long case, perhaps 4 feet long and 1 and a half foot wide. It looked old and dry, seeming to never have seen the light of day for decades. Other than a handle and 2 latches, it was entirely featureless, which was in sharp contrast with the army helmet he had found with it. The helmet was scratched and scarred by what seemed to be bullets; gouges were taken out of the sides of the helmet and various indents showed the battles the helmet had been through. He recognized the helmet as one used in the US army during World War II, one whose name he had not committed to memory. He turned back to the case, whose surface was dusty, but untarnished by rust and grime. He wiped the latches clean and opened the case.
Inside, he found a battle rifle used by the US during World War II and a pistol used by german officers in the same war. They were both untouched, looking like they had not weathered the decades their case had. There were no other markings on either of the guns based on the cursory glance he had given them, but finding them presented a new mystery: why were they in the attic? He knew that his family was one that was very proud of its heritage, so much so that they kept a knife that was older than all of them clean and perfect due to its history with the family. Therefore, keeping a case of World War II memorabilia in a dusty attic for multiple decades? “Not likely. At all,” he muttered to himself.
“So what’s left? It can’t be an heirloom that someone in the family just had, or else it would be hanging above the fireplace being proudly displayed by Dad. So what is it? Well, at least it’s not the start of some dumb supernatural adventure,” he chuckled. He thought about it again and continued wondering why it was there. His grandparents were old, but not that old. He thought about his great grandparents, but they had never once mentioned fighting in the war. He wondered about his great grandparents' siblings and if they fought in the war. He had never met any of them, but he had heard about them, which was important to him because both of his parents were only children, and so was he.
He ripped himself away from his distracted thoughts as he packed up the case once more. ‘The case is… whatever, it’s fine. But, who’ll take care of the house? There’s no family to speak of, not many acquaintances, let alone friends. So… I guess there’s only one option,’ he thought to himself. He placed the case next to the front door and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. ‘Uncle Trunks…’
Kain was actually good friends with Uncle Trunks, but that was not uncommon. Everyone in the town was friends with Uncle Trunks. He claimed to come from a country ‘down south’ and had well tanned skin to show for it. He claimed to have come north to escape poverty and seek better opportunities for his family. Due to his previous career, one which he never described, he was able to move and began a new life. It did not last long, however, as his wife and son died in a drunk driving incident, crushing the man’s spirit. Not long after, he packed his things, sold his home, and began soul searching. He claimed to have wandered across the entire country twice, which was something he took great pride in. Eventually, he moved into Kain’s town and settled down, working as a landscaper and librarian. Not many knew his actual name, but no one cared much; ‘Uncle Trunks was Uncle Trunks and a name couldn’t stop that from being so,’ or at least that was what Kain’s parents always said. Besides, everyone found the name fun, so there was no harm in letting him call himself that.
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Apart from his jobs, he was also a sort of de facto moral guide of the town. Everyone went to him with their problems and he always tried to make them feel better. It was due to his role as moral guide that he was loved in town, a reputation that was also reinforced by his tendency to do volunteer work. “He’s practically perfect,” Kain chuckled to himself. The only flaw anyone could argue about him was his hatred of alcohol. It was a quirk that no one faulted him for, and everyone avoided drinking in his presence. There was one incident where he had caught a group of teenagers drinking and dragged them down to the police station for it. It was the story everyone pointed to when anyone asked about how seriously he took his hatred of drinking.
Kain both shuddered to imagine what it would be like to be on Uncle Trunk’s bad side and enjoyed how the teenagers involved were some of the worst ones. Sighing, he dialed Uncle Trunk’s number and waited.
Eventually, he heard the call connect and heard Trunk’s jovial voice from the phone. “Trunks here. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Uncle Trunks. It’s Kain. How’ve you been doing?”
“Ah! Kain m’boy! I’ve been great! How about you? Last I heard, you got that big city job in uh… what was it? Hollonstan? Well, how is it out there?” he asked.
“It’s good. Good pay, good benefits, more than decent people. But… I kinda called for a different reason,” he trailed off.
Trunks made a soft noise that was sent over the phone and spoke glumly. “About your parents, right? Sorry for your loss kid. I kept the house as clean as I could, as well as made sure that none of the punks from town tried to egg it or something,” Trunks described.
“Thanks, I know you were trying to keep yourself cheerful.”
Trunks breathed a bit of a sigh, almost a mixture of relief and sadness. “Kid, never change that. No matter what, if you can just keep yourself positive, then it’ll all work out. Trust me.”
“Alright, I’ll try my best,” he replied. “But… there’s something else I wanted to talk about.”
“Hm? Sure, lay it on me.”
“I can’t take care of the house. I have a job in the city, if not friends than acquaintances, and a place that’s already paid for. So I was wondering if…”
“No problem kid, I’ll take care of the old place. The house may be built in a pretty dusty spot, but I’ve been coming over for longer than you were alive. I know how to take care of the place while you work in the city.”
“Actually… I was wondering if you could take it off of my hands,” he admitted.
“...” Trunks went silent for a moment, not saying a word.
“You can keep it, it’s just that-”
“Kid, are you crazy!? Has the city gotten to ya!? I’ve never heard of a Lenem that would just give away the house their family’s been living in for generations, so what makes you different?” he asked incredulously.
Kain took a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m fine, Uncle Trunks. Nothings gotten to me, and if you really want to know, then the reason why I’m giving you the house is because I trust you. Besides, people give you stuff all the time, so why’s this different?”
*=====*
Yep, better than the original chapter 2. Anyway, you’re either here to check out the rewrite, or you’re a new reader. If you find this bit boring, don’t worry, one more chapter to go.