Chapter 452

Chapter 452: The Youth by the Hearth

Emenas, the Library Tower.

This was the largest library within the academy, not only for students of the Tower College but also those from other colleges who came here to read books.

It was already night time, and the reading room was quiet, with the flames in the hearth burning steadily, occasionally emitting tiny crackling sounds, reminding the few remaining students that the fire had not yet gone out.

After dark, most of the students who were reading here had returned to their dorms to rest, leaving only a few behind.

Some students preferred to read in the library rather than borrow books back to their dorms because it was quieter and less likely to be disturbed. Additionally, changing books was more convenient. Sometimes, they needed to consult many different categories for writing something, which would be quite inconvenient if they borrowed books to their dorms.

In one corner of the reading room, a young man with wine-red hair sat at a desk. One side of his body was slightly warmed by the hearth’s fire. He held a pen in his hand, occasionally scribbling on thick, light brown paper, making a rustling sound. At times, he would furrow his brow, seemingly deep in thought, then sigh and give up, placing the book down and staring off into space.

Whenever he stared off into space, the gaze from the other side of the reading room would unconsciously draw his attention.

The young lady sitting in another corner of the reading room was also engrossed in her book. A soft blanket covered her knees, and she had silvery-white hair that shimmered like mist. Her long eyelashes framed a pair of calm, azure eyes, like a tranquil lake.

She seemed to be flipping through some historical records, reading slowly. A thick book lay open on the table in front of her, producing a faint rustling sound as she turned the pages.

As the night deepened, fewer and fewer people remained in the reading room, until only three people were left.

Perhaps feeling tired from reading, the young man with wine-red hair walked out of the reading room, passing through the internal circular staircase of the library, and arrived at a ventilated balcony.

Looking out over the campus under the night sky, the scattered orange lights on the ground looked like little stars dotting the landscape. Occasionally, some students flew past at low altitude, emitting joyful shouts.

Gazing at the scenery before him, the young man’s mood gradually calmed down, and the fatigue from his recent contemplations eased. After staying there for a while, he returned to the reading room, flipping through books about the great deeds of notable figures, hoping to find something.

His pen diligently wrote and recorded again in his notebook, allowing time to slowly pass.

By midnight, two other people remained in the reading room. The young lady was still engrossed in her book, while the other person was lying on the table, breathing slowly. Fortunately, the sound was not too loud, similar to the crackling of the hearth’s flames.

After turning through numerous pages, the young man felt a sense of loss once again and placed the book down. This time, he did not leave; instead, he gazed at the hearth beside him, lost in thought, and the firelight in his vision gradually blurred.

In the memory, everything seemed to return to a distant past.

That was a warm summer.

He held the small wooden sword his father had whittled, playing not far from home, running and chasing dragonflies and butterflies.

His body would leap high and then fall back down; he could kick against the rough bark of a tree, grab onto an outstretched branch, and swing back and forth in the air, all because it was so much fun.

Occasionally, when playing with other children, he wanted to be the great hero, eliminating the big villains that plagued the world and saving it.

He never thought about why he did this; he just knew it was cool and exciting, making every cell in his body feel thrilled and joyful.

Hahaha, I am the great hero who punishes evil! He would shout like this while playing with his companions, never tiring of it.

Even though sometimes he would get dirty and be scolded by his mother when he returned home, he still did it.

Is there anything more thrilling in this world than becoming a hero? Definitely not, he always believed this.

For this, he worked hard to learn swordsmanship from his father, running every day, for as a hero, speed couldn’t be slow; many people were waiting for him.

Time slowly passed, and the child in his memories gradually grew up.

Everything seemed strange and uncomfortable.

Once, he thought his father could do anything, but he was just a guard, which wasn’t a great career. Although he had honed excellent martial arts and strength and became the best among his peers, he didn’t know who he should use his sword against.

If there was no target to strike, what was the point of training?

To become a hero, one must defeat some villain or evil person, so the world would be better.

But, who was the villain?

Were they the local ruffians? Such people had already been taught a lesson.

Were they wild boars from neighboring villages that destroyed fences? Those were merely prey; even if defeated, it wouldn’t bring any fundamental change.

Were they those who bullied others? Such people were indeed villains, and he wanted to be a maintainer of fairness and order.

Years passed like this.

He realized that absolute fairness didn’t exist. Those from wealthy families, those who were good-looking, those who were particularly eloquent, received some advantages.

Teachers favored students who were good-looking, adults gave extra benefits to those who were sweet-tongued, and bosses would give more money because of his father’s reputation when doing odd jobs.

He himself was a beneficiary of such an environment, as a peer once said, due to his father being the captain of the guards, his affluent family, and having good teachers, he could easily win over those from average families on the field.

Among them, some might not be less talented than him, they just lacked opportunities.

So-called fairness had too rigid and widespread standards, making it hard to be his准则

Firm Beliefs in His Heart.

Then, what was the purpose of everything he had done?

Was the goal of wielding his sword only for personal gain? If that were the case, then how was he any different from the villains he once dreamed of defeating when he was young?

It felt as if everything had returned to its starting point.

He had become the person he had dreamed of being as a child. Entering Emanas, he became an object of envy for people from his hometown. Gradually, he had gained some strength, though not at the top level, he had surpassed his own expectations.

But while holding the sword, the evil dragon he had been chasing seemed to dissipate like smoke.

How does one become a hero? Perhaps this world doesn’t need such heroes after all.

He looked at the flames in the fireplace, thoughts swirling in his mind, slowly sinking into slumber.

.

After a long time, a slight sound woke him up. The girl who had been reading earlier was picking up the scattered papers from the floor and placing them back on the table.

Looking at the blackened edges of the papers, the youth realized that he must have fallen asleep and accidentally knocked them over, causing them to fall near the fireplace, where they were picked up by the girl.

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep,” he stood up and thanked the girl.

“It’s nothing,” the silver-haired girl shook her head, then looked at the messy notes on the paper and asked,

“It seems you’re troubled by something.”

“Oh, this…” Looking at the words like ‘hero’ and ‘justice’ on the paper, the youth blushed deeply, wishing he could find a hole to hide in.

Seeing the youth’s flustered appearance, the girl smiled slightly.

“In fact, many people have gone through similar experiences, just varying in degree.”

“If we talk about respect and admiration, being a hero is indeed a word that makes people envious. It’s also a way for everyone to recognize someone or something.”

“Actually, it’s like a form of feedback. If you do things that improve the lives of many people and make them better, they will call you a hero out of gratitude.”

“It’s a kind of sincere praise.”

“But praise shouldn’t be your life’s goal; it’s more often a byproduct of certain achievements or endeavors.”

“I don’t know what kind of hero you want to be, but if there are things you want to do and that can make others happy and better, then do them.”

“If you get tired along the way, you can take a break. The praise of being a hero is certainly attractive, but your own life is also important. I hope this praise can be a decoration for your life, not a heavy burden.”

“Sorry, perhaps I said some strange things. Consider it a reflection of another child growing up.”

Watching the girl leave, the youth sat quietly by the fireplace for a long time, then put the papers with messy handwriting into the fireplace, watching them burn slowly.

Now, his heart was no longer confused.

(The End)