Volume One

Chapter One: Lost

As if to mirror his gloomy mood, dark clouds gradually gathered in the sky.

Swish! Swish! "Ouch—"

A fierce-looking military knife swung with effort, slashing through weeds taller than a person, opening up a path just wide enough to pass through. However, following that low exclamation, the machete fell deep into the grass, rustling for quite a while before it resumed its dance. Soon after, the owner of the knife also appeared in our view, struggling.

He was a boy who looked about fifteen or sixteen years old. His short hair had long since become messy from the long trek. With an oval face, he looked almost like a delicate girl. However, unless one was deliberately being mischievous, most people could tell he was actually male, his temperament somewhere between a boy and a youth, his features so gentle that it was as if "harmless to humans and animals" was written on his face. Of course, unless judged too harshly, he could be considered handsome, though not in a rugged or manly way. To put it kindly, he was the kind of boy who could most easily awaken a woman's maternal instincts.

His well-fitted travel outfit was already stained and dirty. On his back was a huge military backpack, disproportionate to his frame. The only thing that could be called trendy was the indigo gemstone earring on his left ear, shaped like a crystal-clear teardrop, adding a touch of coldness to his gentle appearance.

But at this moment, of course, no one would pay attention to his looks or comment on them. The boy, panting, swung the military knife in his hand, gazing at the seemingly endless sea of grass ahead, his face showing exhaustion and helplessness.

Enough, enough, it's still the forest!

Through the gaps in the trees above, the light in the sky grew dimmer. He cleared the weeds beside a large tree, took a tent from his backpack and set it up, waiting for the impending downpour. Thinking of all these things, he felt a mess of grievance in his heart.

His name was William Carter. Since his birth sixteen years ago, his life had always been smooth and steady. Although his parents never had time for him and the house was always filled with the smoke of marital warfare, the love he hoped for was never enough, and what he didn't want often came in excess. But as long as he kept his heart at peace, everything could still be considered not too bad. At least, that's how it seemed to others. Even though his parents fought, they never let him go hungry, his pocket money was sufficient, and at school he always got good grades and received praise and care from his teachers. In the eyes of the world, all this could be considered great happiness.

It seemed that no one noticed or cared that his heart was always alone!

His experiences since childhood, surprisingly, had not made him too withdrawn. Perhaps it was because he was innately indifferent by nature. In the eyes of teachers and parents, he was always an obedient and well-behaved child—cheerful, polite, and always steady in his studies, everything going smoothly as it should.

In his life, there had only been two instances where he lost control. The first was in elementary school, when a female teacher called him to her office and molested him. When she stripped him naked and unfastened her bra, the eight-year-old William Carter instinctively picked up a utility knife and carved a cross-shaped wound on the teacher's right breast. While the teacher screamed and struggled in a pool of blood, he simply stood to the side holding the knife, his face calm, watching until other teachers broke in. There was still a faint "angelic smile" on his face—the very smile that teacher had once described, though her opinion surely changed after that. This incident showed that he was not truly a pacifist; beneath his gentle exterior, young William Carter was quite cold and dark inside.

As for the second time he lost control, it was this very moment—running away from home.

This was not some long-planned grand action. The idea of leaving home to toughen himself up and become more independent had never existed anywhere in young William Carter's mind. If William Carter had any kind of life goal, it would probably be something like "not to be disturbed by anyone, to live a plain life until death." If one were to analyze his reason for leaving home this time, those around him would probably think of his parents' recent divorce. From a passionate romance to a shotgun wedding, the two outstanding individuals had once been a couple envied and blessed by many. But only a few months after marriage, their feelings plummeted as quickly as they had fallen in love, objectively proving the old saying, "Good to meet, hard to live together."

A marriage without love had lasted sixteen years before finally being cut off for good. We can't know the intricacies of it all, but for William Carter, if this marriage had any effect on him, it was probably just a faint melancholy after a long sigh of relief. What truly affected his mood was something else, and at his age, it sounded almost ridiculous: his girlfriend had recently died in a car accident.