Memoir of the Messenger (trash of count family fanfic)

Chapter 4

Ron has been working in the Henituse household for more than a decade. He has long memorized every corner of the house. Every face, name, and occupation of every person that resided in that household

But most especially, the eldest son of the Henituse. The one he took care of since he was a baby until that person entered adolescence.

As if by instinct, Ron could recognize the young master from afar, and was confident enough he could distinguish him even when you place him in a sea of red hairs.

But ironically enough, it was also the same person who Ron didn't think twice about leaving behind.

Didn't even bother to bid him goodbye.

He subconsciously closed his fist.

Ron thought of a moment when he wonders what had happened to the youth he had left. Only to receive news of him running away, two years later.

He remembers himself laughing at that matter.

But instead of feeling what the majority has felt. Ron felt an unexplainable relief spread throughout his chest.

That was the last time he ever thought of that youth. Up until now, when he mistook him for a random child.

Realizing his thoughts all about, he chuckles to himself, but his face remains stoic.

It must have been his conscience eating him up.

It's been almost five years since he left and yet, the guilt never completely left.

guilt.

One of the few things that assassins don't and should never have, what Ron didn't know even he has.

His gaze fell back at the scene in front of them.

They watched as the woman's hands trembled as she smothered the child's face with a pillow, with every means of suffocating the child.

They took notice of how his small arms tightened around the doll. But the woman didn't seem to notice as she applied more pressure.

But the child remain unmoving, didn't struggle to break free, not even gasping for air, as though he was still sleeping or was already dead.

But they all knew it was not the case. All of these are from the host's memories, and that indicates the child was awake the whole ordeal.

As if she came back into her senses, she dropped the pillow unto the side. She hastily stood up and took two steps back in despair, almost tripping.

She glanced at the child who is still lying on the bed.

Trembling and choked with sobs, she covers a hand over her mouth, for fear of disturbing the child and discovering her on such a crude act.

But it was impossible for that, as the child slowly propped up his body and sat up, clutching the doll closer to him.

He whispered as he called the woman. "Mom."

They were appalled at the discovery, that woman was revealed to be his mother and as to how someone committed such a crime on her child.

Even to Alberu and Taylor.

The idea of killing a member of their family is not such a foreign thing to them, because they have experienced it beforehand from their so-called siblings.

But having your parent, your mother tried killing you is just... Different. It is much more painful, whatever the reason it might be.

They all waited, expecting him to lash out at her or maybe cry in disappointment—anger... Resentment.