Chapter 90: Memories from the Heart

The woman was sincere and humble, filled only with gratitude. “Miracle doctor, you must come visit our village often. Our whole family will thank you properly! Please do come…”

Only then did Kuroba understand that the woman had been waiting for Bai Shengye to return from the border wall so she could thank him in person. Her youngest son and several other children in the village had been infected by monsters, but, thanks to the prescription Bai Shengye had left behind, they had miraculously recovered.

After the woman left, Bai Shengye finally emerged from behind the door, still jittery, muttering under his breath, “Are my most ardent admirers now as old as forty…?”

As he turned to head back to his class, he pondered aloud, “By all rights, that child’s injuries were so severe there was no hope… Why did he recover so suddenly…?”

Kuroba overheard his words by chance. Glancing down at his own right hand, he recalled how, on that day, he had used the power of Devouring to absorb the darkness from the children. Was it truly he who had saved that child?

During the morning lessons, Kuroba alternated between leafing through the complex, unfathomable “Dark Incantations in Space and Time” and napping on his desk.

Yi Xin was absent-minded today as well, his arm still wrapped in bandages, unable to focus on any lesson. All morning, his thoughts drifted back to days long past.

He remembered when he was ten—his mother had just died, and his older brother had just left home. The once lively house was now empty, leaving only himself and his father.

Back then, Yi Xin was sullen and withdrawn, utterly unlike his former self. One morning, he woke in his bedroom, wandered out in pajamas, rubbing his eyes as he descended the stairs, and there, in the very center of the living room carpet, sat a little boy with black hair.

For a split second, that small figure made him believe his brother Yi Feng had returned. He stood rooted to the spot, excitement welling up, but then hesitated.

The boy turned around, revealing a completely unfamiliar face.

Yi Xin’s heart turned cold. The boy was much younger than Yi Feng, and his innocent, friendly eyes blinked in curiosity as he held one of Yi Xin’s toys.

Their father, Yi Sheng, came out from the kitchen, still wearing an apron. Seeing Yi Xin, he quickly took Kuroba by the hand and introduced him.

“Xin, this is Kuroba. From now on, he’ll be your little brother. Treat him like family.”

Yi Xin’s face was cold as he strode up to Kuroba, snatched the toy from his hand, and flung it to the ground.

“I don’t want any so-called family!”

He turned and ran out to the yard, stopping beneath the tree—the very tree where, that night, his mother had died. Leaning against the trunk, he remembered his mother’s gentle face and broke down in tears, pounding the bark with his fists until his knuckles bled.

The first breakfast they shared, their father set several burnt dishes on the table. The ingredients were so charred, they were unrecognizable.

Yi Xin entered from outside, seeing Kuroba sitting at the table, his curiosity for everything around him almost childlike. His legs dangled from the chair, swinging as he tapped his spoon against the plate, making a rhythmic, metallic “ding ding ding.”

Yi Xin felt a wave of distaste. “Does this child have no manners at all?” he thought.

“Ha ha, Kuroba, Xin, try your father’s cooking!” their father called, wiping his hands on his apron and grinning from ear to ear. “The timing was a bit off, and I burned it again…”

This isn’t food, Yi Xin thought, staring at the blackened lumps in his plate. Such meals were impossible to eat. In the past, all the meals had been cooked by his mother…

Kuroba quietly dipped a finger into the dish, tasted a bit of the scalding food, then quickly sucked his finger, a look of utter happiness spreading across his face as he exclaimed, “Delicious.”

Delicious? He actually said it was delicious? Had this kid never eaten anything before?

Seeing Kuroba’s simple, naïve expression only fueled Yi Xin’s irritation.

He remembered when his mother and brother were still there. Back then, his brother had already advanced to the Intermediate Academy of Magic, and after moving to the dorms, could only come home once a week. On those days, the whole family would gather for dinner. Their parents sat on one side of the table, Yi Xin and his brother on the other.

His brother was always so outstanding—elegant, intelligent, kind to everyone—a role model in every way. In his presence, Yi Xin always felt like an innocent child who would never grow up.

Often, as his brother ate, he’d talk about life at the academy, or share stories of the forests beyond the city, igniting Yi Xin’s imagination.

Sometimes, his brother would glance at him, asking about his studies at the Junior Academy of Magic. Yi Xin would seize the chance to show off, reciting new spells and bits of knowledge he’d mastered.

At such moments, his brother would smile with pride.

“I have a new spell I want to teach you. Would you like to learn it?”

“Yes! Yes!” Yi Xin would reply, overjoyed.

“But you have to finish your homework first, then come find me in the yard.”

“Okay!”

Yi Xin would wolf down his meal, dash back to his room, and shout, “I’m going to do my homework!” His parents watched him with gentle smiles.

Snapping out of his memories, Yi Xin suddenly found himself standing in the dining room, dazed, immersed in the past. Now, his mother’s chair would forever be empty, and on his brother’s chair sat a wild child from who knows where.

“Get down!” Yi Xin strode over to Kuroba in a few quick steps, pushing his shoulder firmly.

Kuroba, not knowing what he’d done wrong, looked at him in hurt confusion.

“Sit over there!” Yi Xin pointed to the chair across from his own. Kuroba, still aggrieved, got up and moved, taking the other seat.

No sooner had Kuroba stood than Yi Xin immediately sat down, as if afraid someone would take his place.

Sitting in the classroom, Yi Xin wiped his tears, thinking of all this. What he couldn’t forgive himself for was how much he missed that person when he remembered him. What he couldn’t accept was that, the first time he saw Kuroba sitting on the living room carpet, with his black hair and black eyes, he’d mistaken him for his brother—and his first reaction had been joy.

He couldn’t forget that person—his gentle face, the broad back he’d always looked up to as a role model. Like a sword, the memory pierced his heart, bleeding endlessly, yet it could never erase the warmth that person had left behind.

The bell for the midday break rang. Everyone left the classroom. Shen Zaiguo and Ling Xiaolei left together as well.