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Volume 2 Chapter 5: A genius's goal

"What a waste," I thought to myself as I sat by the serene lake of the oasis. If I returned like this, it would only prove everyone else right. Perhaps I shouldn't have left academia in the first place. Was I wrong all this time? If I had stayed, maybe I wouldn't be considered a wasted potential by everyone, including my parents. And Sans wouldn't end up like this.

"Is that seat taken?" A familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Sans? You shouldn't be up so early; your wounds—" I stopped mid-sentence as I saw him removing some bandages, revealing perfectly healed injuries.

"You must be an adepti from Liyue," I stated, examining him closely. "There's no way a human could heal that quickly after such injuries."

"Well, yeah. Mind sharing your seat?" he replied, ignoring my observation as he sat down next to me, his eyes fixed on the lake.

"Feel free to sit down," I said as he settled beside me, both of us gazing out at the tranquil water.

"So... what's wrong?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"What do you mean?" I responded, caught off guard by his question.

"Your eyes, your breathing, your hand movements—they all suggest you've lost something," he explained calmly. "Or perhaps it's just a conversation starter."

"I'm just saddened by our failure, and now that the tomb has collapsed, there's no chance to retry," I said, trying to smile.

"That can't be all," he insisted, his gaze unwavering on the lake. "You're not the type to be deterred by setbacks like this. I suspected it before, but now I'm sure. You planned this, right down to the location. We lost your notes in the chaos down there, but I'm certain we would find your plans to discover this tomb written there, right?"

I couldn't deny it. He was right. I remained silent, unable to meet his gaze.

"Given your silence, I'll take that as confirmation," he continued. "So, why this place?"

"Because no one from academia, not even my own parents, has ever reached the tomb's mysterious depths to uncover its secrets. I chose this place because I believed I could be the first to defy expectations and prove everyone wrong. But now, here I am, just another name on the list of failures," I confessed reluctantly.

"I was labeled a genius, or so they said. Born into a family renowned for their scholarly pursuits, I excelled academically from a young age. People began to see me as a prodigy, and with that came soaring expectations. I was supposed to excel in everything, surpassing even my parents' achievements. Then one day, I couldn't keep up. Suddenly, the praise turned to criticism, and admiration soured into something else. I could barely make out the whispers behind my back. Even my parents seemed disappointed; their once-supportive words are now laced with bitterness."

"The pressure became unbearable. I had to escape. Now, I carry the burden of being a wasted genius. I thought if I could achieve what no one else had, I would prove that I was worthy of everyone. That's why..."

"So you tried to prove to everyone, including your parents, that you are capable of living up to their expectations?" he questioned, stopping me mid-sentence.

"Yeah, basically," I replied.

"Living up to everyone's expectations seemed hard, huh?" he asked.

"Their words aren't that important to me," I responded. "I never really cared about what others thought of me. I mean, you can never satisfy everyone, right?" I said.

"I see, so your parents are the focus here," he replied. "Have you ever thought beyond the words your parents say?"

"I don't understand," I responded.

"Sure, they may utter words that hurt you emotionally, and they might pressure you with their expectations and all that. But have you ever stopped to listen to what their heart wanted to say instead of just the words coming from their head?" Sans asked.

"I couldn't say anything. I frankly don't know how I'm supposed to answer that question."

"Shouldn't it be worth giving it a try?" he asked, looking at me with a gentle expression. "Why don't you consider returning and talking to them?"

"I think that's not possible, considering I've been away from everyone, even my parents, for a while now." I chuckled bitterly.

"You managed to escape death once, kid; why would this scare you?" he smiled.

"Yeah, I suppose. If I managed to face that tomb, I should be able to face this," I answered.

As we approached my childhood home, a place I never thought I'd set foot in again since that fateful day, my heart raced with worry over how my parents would receive me. Finally reaching the door, the silhouette of my mother and father engrossed in their books greeted me. I knocked nervously, hearing their footsteps approach. I glanced back, half-expecting to see Sans, my companion, but found only emptiness.

"And here I thought you'd be here for me," I murmured to myself.

As my parents opened the door, tears streamed down my mother's face as she embraced me tightly. But my father remained stoic, staring at me before abruptly turning away and retreating into the house.

"You idiot! Where have you been? We were so worried for three years; I thought something terrible had happened to you," my mother exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and admonishment as she guided me inside. "You must be starving. Let me make something for you to eat," she added with a smile as she bustled into the kitchen.

Outside, I gathered my courage and approached my father.

"So, you're back. How was your time away from us?" he asked, his gaze avoiding mine.

"I... I think I was doing alright," I replied tentatively, unsure of how to respond.

"I wish you hadn't gone.!" he snapped before softening his tone. "My son, why? Why would you do this?"

"I wanted to prove myself to you and mom, to live up to your expectations," I explained, feeling the weight of my decisions.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret.

"I wish I could have returned with something from that tomb I know you studied," I admitted

"Why would you risk your life for that?" he demanded, gripping my shoulders.

"Because... I thought it would make you proud that I could contribute something like you," I confessed.

He sighed heavily, releasing his hold. "Our studies were never about you following in our footsteps," he said earnestly. "They were about understanding the world and finding your own path."

"But you pushed me into so many subjects and so many activities," I countered.

"Son, our intentions were for you to explore and discover, not to excel for our sake. Your happiness and well-being matter more than any of our accomplishments," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "You are our cherished legacy, not your achievements."

As his words sank in, I realized how deeply they cared. In that moment, all the tension melted away, replaced by a profound understanding and acceptance.

I embraced my father tightly, tears streaming down my cheeks as I apologized profusely, finally understanding how wrong I had been.

"How about you tell us about your journey over a small reunion snack? I'm very curious about your time away, you know," he said, comforting me with a gentle smile.

There was nothing I wanted more at that moment than to share my experiences with them. We entered the house together, ready to enjoy the light evening snack my mother had prepared. Perhaps Sans knew all along that things would turn out like this, I thought to myself.

The sound of our laughter and conversation filled the room, weaving together the threads of understanding and love that had been strained but not broken.