It happened while I was sweeping.
Not some dramatic scene.
Just a lazy Sunday, post-training, wiping the corners of my room like always.
And there it was.
A thin, dust-covered envelope behind a crate I hadn't moved in weeks.
I stared at it for a long time before I even reached down.
I knew what it was.
I recognized the shape. The weight. The edge of the paper torn slightly on the bottom right.
A letter.
From my mother.
I sat down slowly, legs folding on instinct.
My hands didn't shake.
They just… hesitated.
The last time I saw this envelope, I was fourteen.
I kept it in my old drawer, hidden under my school books.
Back then, I couldn't read it.
Not because I didn't know how.
But because I was afraid.
Afraid that whatever was inside would be the last words she ever gave me.
And once I read them, that would be it.
No more waiting.
No more pretending she might walk through the door again.
Just silence.
I ran my fingers across the paper.
It was worn.
Time hadn't been kind to it.
But I unfolded it anyway.
There were no tears.
Just words.
Ryou,
If you're reading this, it means I didn't come back.
And I'm sorry.
I always knew the world wasn't fair. I just didn't expect it to take us this early.
You were always a quiet child. Always trying to be strong for others. But it's okay to break sometimes. It's okay to cry.
I know this world is going to be hard on you. People might not understand you. They might leave. Betray. Forget.
But I won't.
Every time you breathe, I want you to remember: You were loved. Fully. Fiercely.
Not because you earned it. Not because you were useful. But just because you were you.
So live, Ryou.
Even if it hurts. Even if you fail. Even if you lose everything.
Just live.
– Mom
I didn't cry.
I thought I might.
But the tears never came.
Just this pressure behind my ribs—like someone squeezing my lungs.
My hands clenched the letter. Not to crush it.
Just to hold on.
[System Prompt: Emotional Surge Detected]
[Analyzing…]
[Optional Mental Quest Unlocked: "Grief Is Not Weakness"]
Accept and process a core trauma through reflection.
Face your past without judgment.
Reframe the pain into strength.
Reward:
• Trait: "Emotional Resilience"
• Intelligence +1
• Mental Fortitude +1
• Unlock: "Calm Clarity" Passive Buff
I didn't know what "Calm Clarity" meant.
But I accepted the quest anyway.
This wasn't for rewards.
This was something I had to do.
I sat still for two hours.
Didn't train.
Didn't read.
Didn't write.
I just let the memories come.
The last time I saw my parents was on a rainy Monday morning.
They left early. Said they'd be home by dinner.
They never made it past 10 AM.
Truck crash.
No survivors.
I didn't get to say goodbye.
Didn't even get to yell at them for forgetting my lunch money that day.
All I got was an empty house.
And a system of relatives and foster homes that treated me like clutter.
I survived.
But I never healed.
I buried myself in distractions—school, part-time jobs, bad relationships.
I kept moving so I wouldn't have to feel.
Because the moment I stopped, I was fourteen again, staring at a clock that never ticked fast enough to bring them back.
But now, sitting here, I let myself feel it all.
The anger.
The fear.
The guilt.
And finally… the understanding.
They didn't leave me.
Life did.
And I survived it anyway.
I'm still here.
Still breathing.
Still fighting.
Still building something from the ashes they left behind.
[Quest Complete: "Grief Is Not Weakness"]
[Rewards Gained:]
• Trait: "Emotional Resilience" – Reduces mental fatigue from trauma-based triggers.
• Mental Fortitude +1
• Intelligence +1
• Buff Gained: "Calm Clarity" – During moments of high stress, gain +10% focus and decision-making speed.
The letter was still in my lap.
I folded it carefully.
Slid it into a small box I'd cleaned earlier.
I didn't hide it.
I placed it on the shelf beside my notebook and crowbar.
Because this letter?
It wasn't a relic.
It was a reminder.
Of who I was.
Where I came from.
And what I refused to become.
That night, I wrote something new on my wall.
"Pain is part of me. But it will not define me."
And beside it, I added a date:
Year 23, Month 2, Day 17 – The day I stopped running from ghosts.
End of Chapter 9