Erick savored the beer and closed his eyes.
Suddenly, an old memory from the past surfaced in his mind—something perhaps only he remembered now in this world.
It was a memory from when he was eight years old, when his father, who had drunk himself senseless once again, had beaten him before kicking him out of the house.
It was a bitterly cold winter day.
Sitting in the cold wind, trembling, he had thought he would freeze to death that day.
Countless people walked past him.
Yet none of them even glanced at him.
Strangely, the thought of dying that day brought him not fear but a sense of relief.
Ever since his mother ran away, his days had been filled with misery, and perhaps death would finally free him from it all.
But that day, someone had walked up to him—a kid who looked like a filthy beggar.
Gray eyes calmly studied him for a few seconds. That tall, silver-haired boy was wearing even less than he was. Even his short-sleeved shirt was soaked through.
