Reincarnated As The Villainess's Son

Chapter 172  [Brightest Star] [2]

A dull light illuminated the old house.

The walls were cracked in different places, water seeping in through those cracks.

Sunlight passed through the holes in the ceiling, landing on a little girl no older than four.

Her hands stopped washing the dishes as she looked up, her golden eyes squinting subconsciously.

She tucked her messy brown hair back with her tiny hands before returning to washing.

"I'm late," she whispered, dipping her hands back into the scalding rinse water. "I have to finish the dishes on time."

Her tiny hands moved faster, a slight expectant expression on her face.

An expectation of receiving her mother's care and love today without any problem.

She continued washing the dishes, ignoring the bruises that covered her hands and the pain they caused.

After completing the dishes, she picked up a ragged cloth and a bucket of water.

Her tiny body moved around the two-room house, sweeping the floor and clearing the dirty spots.

She did her best not to leave any spot unclean, even though it tired her body.

She gasped, looking around the place she had cleaned, nodding her head in satisfaction.

Her body ached in pain, her stomach grumbling.

She dragged her body to the single bed in the house for some rest.

"Waa waa."

But before she could do so, a child's cry echoed in the house.

Even though she was tired, she moved her body toward the cradle in the room.

"Why are you crying, Tiffy?" she whispered softly, looking inside.

Her gaze landed on the small girl with black hair, crying.

"Shhh, why is my sister crying?" she coaxed, her childlike voice sweet as she carefully picked the baby up.

Gently holding her, she rubbed her back while roaming around the house.

With her mother not home most of the time, she was the one who had to take care of the infant.

Being a child herself, she made a lot of mistakes but eventually learned how to calm her down.

"Stop crying," she whispered in her ear. "Mommy will be home soon."

As if understanding her words, the baby calmed down, her crying dying out slowly.

After a while, Tiffany's gentle breaths tickled her neck, and she moved back to the cradle, placing the sleeping baby inside.

"I'm home."

The door clicked open, and a tired voice of a woman filled the air.

Ashlyn smiled and ran toward the door with her tiny legs, exclaiming, "Mother!"

Her back ached slightly as she looked up at her mother, but she forcefully ignored it.

"How was your day, Ashlyn?" The young woman, a mature version of her daughter, smiled as she asked.

She was in her early twenties but already had wrinkles on her face from overwork.

"It was great," Ashlyn replied, smiling back. "I did everything you asked for."

"Good girl," she replied, patting her head before entering the house. "I'll make something to eat."

"Yes, Mother," Ashlyn replied, nodding her head.

To Ashlyn, her mother was like a tree.

A tree providing shelter, home, and protection.

A tree she could climb on and eat from.

A tree that seemed big when she was many times smaller.

A tree that was her tree.

Living without a father, she only had her mother to rely on.

The only one supporting the family.

Ashlyn's tiny legs trailed behind her mother as she walked into the kitchen.

"Do you want to say something?" her mother asked, glancing back at her.

"Those men arrived today as well," Ashlyn replied meekly, her gaze lowering. "They were asking about the debt again, cursing Father."

Her mother halted before whispering, "I see."

It used to hurt her when her husband left them alone, but now... it didn't bother her as much.

"Why are you sulking?" she asked, smiling at Ashlyn.

Ashlyn shook her head slightly, her gaze still lowered.

"Don't be upset about it," her mother whispered softly. "Smile like you always do."

"Yes," Ashlyn replied weakly, nodding her head and forcing a weak smile.

Any relationship as complex as that between a mother and child is always going to include both love and hate.

Most young children feel moments of hatred when their needs or wishes are unfulfilled, and most whine when they don't get what they want.

But Ashlyn never did that; her bond with her mother was too fragile for her to demand anything.

She always protected the image of her mother inside, denying anything that might unsettle it, and by doing so, she protected herself from disappointment, anger, and pain.

"Ashlyn," her mother called, making her look up at her. "Did you do the dishes?"

"Yes, Mother," Ashlyn replied softly.

Her mother smiled softly, looking at her. "You didn't do them properly."

"I did, Mother," Ashlyn replied meekly, looking down at her hands.

"Ashlyn." Still smiling, her mother whispered, walking closer to her. "Don't be down, smile like you always do."

Ashlyn hesitantly nodded, smiling back.

"Good girl." Her mother nodded, patting her head but instead of savoring the feeling, Ashlyn forcefully closed her eyes.

...

...

...

"—lyn." n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

A gentle voice echoed in my ears, an urge to wake up filled my mind, but I didn't want to.

Being asleep was better than the harsh reality I was in.

"Ashlyn!"

I flinched, my body jerking back, nearly falling down, but a hand on my back stopped me.

"Get down." I looked forward at Az, glancing back at me.

"Sorry," I whispered weakly, getting down from the bike.

'Did I fall asleep while riding?' I wondered, looking at him jerking his hand to alleviate the numbness.

Tearing my gaze away from him, I looked around.

We stood in front of a large gate, and even though it was night, the place was filled with bright lights.

Different small shops were set up on opposite sides, with one way in between.

"...Where are we?" I asked, noticing the variety of products for sale.

"Market," he replied, parking the bike before walking inside. "At the end of every year, the largest festival is held here."

I quietly followed behind him, trailing his steps like a duckling following its mother.

I didn't have a choice; the place was filled with people, hardly any room to move.

I took a long stride before grabbing the hem of his shirt.

He glanced back at me, and in fear that he might ask me to remove my hand, I hastily asked, "Do you know where Tiffany is?"

....I was trying my best not to think about her because whenever I think something good will happen, it doesn't.

And if I thought about saving her, I know something bad will happen.

But, even though I tried, I couldn't help but worry about her.

"I don't know," he replied softly, walking again, "but she'll be fine."

"I hope," I whispered, nodding my head, smiling weakly.

He stared back at me for a while before coldly whispering, "Stop fucking smiling."

My smile vanished as I quietly looked down, still grabbing his hem.

'...I want to hate him.'

My stomach flipped upside down as I remembered what I saw in the orphanage.

Was it because I wanted someone to blame for what happened?

Or was it because he was the first person I thought of when I was in distress?

Either way, I want to hate him.

That's the only way I can stop myself from going further.

...From opening up to him.

I learned a long time ago that I shouldn't reveal myself to the people around me.

...If I do, they always leave.

...Noah did it.

And Az will do the same.

I should start ignoring him.

'But it's hard not to notice his presence when he's always around me.'

I thought, staring at his back as he made way for me through the crowd.

"Huh?"

A startled voice escaped my lips as a child deliberately collided with me.

I tried to look back at him, but something stopped me.

A piece of paper in my hand.

"What happened?" Az asked, turning around, looking confused.

"...This." I showed him the piece of paper while unfolding it.

He walked closer, looking at it. A few dots were drawn in different places; other than that, it was empty.

"A map," Az whispered, taking the paper from my hand.

"Huh? How?" I asked, confused.

How was this a map? All it had were dots.

"...Bradyn," Az whispered, crumpling the paper.

I wanted to stop him from destroying the paper, but the anger blazing in his eyes made me hesitate.

"Let's go." He grabbed my hand, dragging me away.

He moved like he knew the place, making his way through the crowd.

"Where are we, Az?" I asked, concerned.

Because this place...

...Feels familiar somehow.

"There was a kindergarten here," he replied, taking me to a secluded alleyway. "I used to study here."

"Wait, Az?" A sense of uneasiness crawled over my skin as I heard him.

I had heard of this place before.

"Ashlyn." He whispered, abruptly stopping in the alleyway.

"Y-yeah," I whispered, feeling apprehensive about the place.

"Get ready," he whispered, taking out a katana from his bracelet.

"For wha—?"

My words abruptly halted as a silvery hue lashed toward me.