White-Foot Flower and Derek
The next morning, Ian woke in a cheerful mood, wrapped in the soft comfort of his brand-new pajamas. After a quick wash of his face, he spread All Herbs of the Lorenkia Region open across the dining table.
The volume was as thick as a dictionary, so reading it from cover to cover immediately was impossible. Instead, he turned straight to the entry for his goal today—the white-foot flower—and examined it with meticulous care. Luckily, the desired page appeared the moment he followed the table of contents. The white-foot flower sat at the very end of the section on powerful sleeping herbs, accompanied by a stark red warning that read “Handle with Care.”
“Gasp… Five whole stars for danger. This thing is no joke.”
Ian let out a quiet groan and began reading the passage word by word, absorbing every detail.
White-Foot Flower
An annual spring bloom. It grows primarily in regions with distinct seasons and fertile soil. Fond of sunlight, it is rarely seen in deep, dark forests or mountains. The reason it is classified as a rare herb is clear: it never grows under human care and only reveals its noble form within the embrace of nature itself.
Effects: The rarest and most powerful natural sleeping agent known to exist. Its properties are specialized solely for inducing sleep. The potent fragrance of a freshly bloomed flower can plunge an adult male into deep slumber for anywhere from five to as long as ten days.
Harvesting Method: Not a single bird or insect dares approach the area where these flowers bloom in full. Sensitive beasts instinctively avoid the vicinity from the moment the buds appear. Therefore, if you discover an eerily silent spot in the forest or fields, suspect that a white-foot flower is blooming at its center.
Precautions: Upon finding the flower, immediately cover your nose and mouth to block all breathing. Wearing gloves, dig it up by the roots and store it in an airtight container. If fine pollen enters the eyes, it may trigger temporary sleep seizures, so exercise extreme caution.
Ian repeated the harvesting instructions and precautions over and over, etching them into his mind.
Good. So I just need to find a place that’s deathly quiet, right?
It was a far cry from the blind wandering he had done before. Now he knew exactly what to watch for and what signs to seek. Ian mentally listed the tools he would need. It looked like he would have to visit the old-tree general store again for sturdy gloves, a face covering, and a perfectly sealed container that could block the scent completely.
At last his preparations were flawless. With a resolute heart, Ian changed into outdoor clothes, grabbed his leather bag, and left the room. Of course, knowing the flower’s identity didn’t magically raise his odds of finding it in that enormous forest. Beyond the western gate lay the vast Arsilen Forest, an endless pale-blue labyrinth. As he walked toward its heart, Ian breathed a heavy sigh.
“Haa… Admiring pastel-toned trees and flowers loses its charm after the first couple of times.”
This was already the sixth time he had activated his Detection skill. Each use lasted thirty minutes, which meant he had been combing the forest floor for three straight hours. To make things worse, he had only thirty mana points left. The Detection skill consumed twenty mana per cast; six uses had burned through one hundred twenty of his maximum one hundred fifty. He had only one chance remaining.
He had tried to locate the “deathly quiet place” described in the encyclopedia, but even that proved difficult. With the Detection skill covering a five-hundred-meter radius, he felt little need to rely on sound. More than that, the Arsilen Forest was naturally steeped in profound silence.
The cheerful chirps of birds and the rough rustling of mountain beasts pushing through underbrush were almost nonexistent. Only the dreamy whisper of transparent mountain breezes tickling silver branches filled the woods.
As expected, high rewards come with good reason….
Ian pictured the fifty-gold completion fee like a beacon of hope. The thought of those gleaming coins sent a small surge of energy through his fading stamina. The deadline was generous anyway. Reminding himself not to rush, he settled at the base of a large tree to rest his screaming legs.
A short nap didn’t sound so bad. Just as the forest’s atmosphere had lulled him into a light doze—
Rustle—!
The alien sound from the nearby bushes snapped Ian awake. It wasn’t merely the wind. He sensed a living presence moving, along with an unfamiliar gaze boring into him from behind the foliage.
Huh? A dangerous mountain beast?
Ian tensed, eyes flying open. His sharp gaze locked onto the bushes, only for his eyes to widen in surprise.
There stood the boy he had met at the beginner academy—Derek. The child had awkwardly hidden himself behind a large leaf and was stealing cautious, fleeting glances in Ian’s direction.
Derek had been especially reluctant to leave his room that day. The nightmare had returned, forcing him to see his dead parents’ faces again.
Every time their twisted, demonic expressions surfaced in his mind, the boy shivered and burrowed deeper beneath the blankets.
On the surface, Derek’s parents had been enviable high-ranking mercenaries. No treacherous mountain range or monster-infested forest could stop them from delivering their clients safely to their destinations. Their skills were outstanding, their offensive techniques razor-sharp, and they constantly sought out deadly places in their pursuit of greater strength.
Thanks to their bold personalities and generous spending, their home was always crowded with comrades clinking glasses and laughing. Yet Derek could only watch those glittering parties from behind a cold wall, eyes dark and lonely.
To everyone else in the world, his parents had been kind and capable. To their own son, however, they were the coldest, cruelest people alive.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of the training room? The house is huge and there are plenty of rooms—why do you have to crawl in here and bother me? Go to your nanny right now!”
“Um… Mom… I just… wanted to see you…”
“Ugh, not this again. Can’t you see I’m busy? Shut your mouth and get out!”
Whenever his parents returned from weeks of mercenary work, their eyes held not joy but icy disgust. If Derek, trembling with longing, dared approach, his mother Jenia would scream hysterically. His father Reg would simply stare at him with a gaze so frigid it burned. To them, Derek was not a beloved child but an annoying obstacle that appeared after exhausting days.
The tragedy began on an ordinary afternoon. Derek had been playing with dirt alone in the forest near their home. When he returned to the mansion, he found he could not open the front door.
Inside the lobby, his mother and father were screaming at each other, voices shattering like breaking glass.
“That’s why I told you from the start not to have it!”
“You idiot! You think abortion is easy? It can wreck your body worse than giving birth! That’s why I said use proper contraception!”
“Is that my fault? It’s because of that cheap contraceptive potion you brought home!”
“What did you say? You finished talking?!”
Unable to contain their rage, the two drew their weapons. The metallic clash and spray of sparks froze the boy’s entire body like stone. From a second-floor window the nanny waved desperately for him to run, but his legs refused to move.
In truth, what bound Derek’s feet was not fear but a deeper despair.
The realization that the two people who should have treasured him most saw him as someone who should never have been born was tearing the child’s heart to pieces. As he swallowed bloody tears with empty eyes, it happened.
Reg’s sharply launched flame arrow was violently deflected by Jenia’s blade. The stray shot exploded through the window with a deafening crash.
Shatter—!
Glass fragments and the flame arrow shot past the left side of Derek’s forehead where he stood at the gate and embedded in the ground. The power of an advanced attack spell was merciless. Even a graze caused the boy’s tender skin to bubble and burn horribly.
“…!!!”
The child couldn’t even scream. Six-year-old Derek lost consciousness on the spot, swallowed by unimaginable pain and the collapse of his young heart.
When he opened his eyes again after what felt like hell, the first thing he saw was the sorrowful, grief-stricken gaze of the man who would become his adoptive father.
“Derek… You must have been in so much pain and shock that you only woke up after a whole week.”
“……”
His face was wrapped so tightly in bandages that he couldn’t move his lips, but his wet eyes asked the silent question: What about Mom and Dad?
His adoptive father, reading the unspoken words with keen perception, lowered his head in anguish and whispered.
“Listen without being too shocked. Your parents… have passed away. They were protecting their client on a dangerous mountain path swarming with skeleton mages and… they didn’t make it.”
Even after hearing the news, Derek felt nothing. He couldn’t tell whether he was sad or relieved. Perhaps the fracture in his heart had been so severe that even his emotions had gone numb.
And so the boy, freshly turned six, followed his retired-mercenary adoptive father to the southern city of Gellion. He lived trapped in mutism for over a year, but thanks to his adoptive father’s devoted care, he eventually found his voice again. Now eight years old, he barely managed to attend the lower academy, yet the world still felt like a place full of terrors. On days like today, when his parents appeared as demons in his dreams, Derek wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the darkness beneath his blankets and stop breathing.
Of course, his adoptive father would never allow the boy to drown in the swamp of his past. He had called an old mercenary comrade and sent Derek on a picnic outside the western gate into the Arsilen Forest—the one place where the boy could still breathe freely.
The mercenary who escorted him seemed to consider his duty done; he lay down on a mat and fell asleep. Only then did Derek’s face brighten a little. He wandered among the pure-white flower fields and darted playfully between the trees as if playing tag.
Then, suddenly, he thought of the one person he wanted to open his heart to.
Ian, big brother…
Ian was the second person in his life who had looked at Derek’s hideous burn scar without flinching. The first had been his adoptive father. The warmth in Ian’s eyes had been gentler than spring sunlight. He asked no prying questions that would dig at old wounds. He simply offered quiet, soothing consideration that made Derek’s heart feel safe.
I want to see him again…
Perhaps the forest spirits had heard the boy’s earnest wish. Like a miracle, he spotted Ian sleeping against a tree trunk in the distance. Derek started to run toward him in delight, but for some reason his feet felt as heavy as if weighted with stones.
A sudden wave of worries crashed over him.
What if he doesn’t remember me? What if he finds me annoying this time? What if he thinks my scar is disgusting and turns away?
Caught in the tide of anxiety, Derek hid behind a bush with a gloomy expression. He stayed there, staring endlessly at the sleeping boy’s face. His crouched legs had gone completely numb, yet he could not bring himself to return to the mercenary uncle who had come with him on the picnic.
Just as he was rubbing his tingling legs and fidgeting inside the bush, he looked up again. The spot where Ian had been was now empty, as if the older boy had vanished like a mirage.
Huk…! Where did he go?