CHAPTER:2 THE CRY OF A COWARD
After days of relentless labor, Altair had finally gathered enough money to pay the taxes. He worked himself to exhaustion, picking up any job he could. But when the tax collector arrived, his words shattered everything.
"Be careful. The tax has increased."
Altair's heart sank. He had already sacrificed so much, and now they demanded even more? He stood there, defeated, as the collector walked away without a second thought.
That night, he returned home slowly, his body aching. Ronan noticed immediately.
"Grandpa, what happened?"
Altair forced a weak smile. "Nothing, kid. Just get some sleep."
Ronan hesitated but eventually lay down, unaware of the storm about to hit his life.
The next morning, he jumped out of bed. "Grandpa! I forgot to tell you—I have an interview at the Yen Association today! I might actually become a treasure hunter!"
Altair nodded. "Good. I'll wake you up early, alright?"
Ronan grinned. "Alright!"
But when morning came, Altair never woke him up. Ronan bolted out of bed, realizing he was already late. Damn it! He quickly threw on his best clothes and ran out, barely sparing a glance at his sleeping grandfather.
The Yen Association Tower loomed over the city like a symbol of absolute power. Inside, nobles, royals, and high-ranking officials filled the grand hall, their expensive perfumes clashing with the scent of polished marble. Ronan felt like an insect in their presence.
Minutes passed like hours until a voice finally called his name.
"Mr. Ronan Quinn."
He stepped inside, his heart pounding. Behind an enormous desk sat the examiners—three men dressed in elegant robes. They barely looked at him.
"Name?" one of them asked.
"Ronan Quinn."
"Caste?"
Ronan blinked. "Huh? I'm… a commoner."
The examiner didn't even hesitate. "Rejected."
"W-What?" Ronan stammered. "Why? I—"
The examiner waved a hand. "Commoners are not allowed in this job."
Ronan clenched his fists. "Sir, please—"
The man sneered. "Shut up, you lowlife. Next!"
Humiliated, Ronan stumbled out. The nobles chuckled as they passed him, their laughter cutting deeper than any blade. He walked home in silence, eyes burning.
But when he arrived… something was wrong.
"Grandpa?" he called. No response.
He stepped closer. Altair lay there, still as stone.
"Grandpa?" Ronan shook him gently. "Wake up… Hey, wake up."
No movement. No breath. No warmth.
Ronan's hands started shaking. A deep, primal fear took over as he pressed his ear to Altair's chest. Nothing.
"No… No, no, no!"
Tears blurred his vision as reality sank in. His only family—his only reason to keep going—was gone.
The neighbors gathered as Ronan screamed in grief. But in this cruel world, commoners weren't even granted a proper burial. Altair's body was taken to a nameless grave, a hole in the dirt, no marker, no honor.
As the others left, Ronan remained. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his skin. The pain didn't matter.
The rejection. The cruelty. The loss.
"I will become the greatest treasure hunter."
His voice trembled, but his crimson eyes burned with something new.
"I swear it."