I sat on the old wooden chair in front of the house, letting the night breeze brush against my weary face. But the wind did little to calm my thoughts. Instead, it brought back the burdens that weighed heavily on my chest—burdens of Mother's hopes, and my own hopes that clashed against them.
Mother wanted me to become a soldier.
But I... I just wanted to see her healed.
I remembered a year ago, when a healer came to examine Mother's condition. After finishing, he bowed, then whispered in my ear with a soft yet piercing tone.
"Your mother... may only have about a year left."
And now, that year had come.
"Healer," I asked back then, my voice choking, "is there... any way to cure her?"
I looked at his face, hanging my last shred of hope on his answer.
"I cannot promise anything," he said gently. "But... there is one medicine. We could try it."
"What is it?" I asked quickly, unable to hide the anxiety in my chest.
"Calm down, young man," he gave a faint smile. "This medicine is not easy to obtain. Many have sought it, even risking their lives for it."
I swallowed hard. "Then... how do I get it?"
"Go to the royal capital of Moniyan," he explained. "There, a tournament will be held... the prize is that medicine. It's called Elixiran."
When I heard that name, my heart felt as if it stopped for a moment.
Elixiran.
The legendary pink potion, said to cure any illness. But the method of making it remained a mystery. Even the best healers of Moniyan had tried to concoct it with various formulas, yet none had succeeded.
"A tournament?" I repeated, confused. "You mean...?"
"Yes," the healer replied, his tone serious. "That medicine can only be obtained through the royal tournament."
He knew I had no money. That's why he suggested the only path left for me.
"But... if I don't want to join the tournament, how much does Elixiran cost?" I asked softly, half hoping there was still another way.
The healer laughed—a deep, hearty laugh—as he patted my shoulder like a father humoring a child who just told a joke.
I stared at him, puzzled. What was so funny? Was the medicine really that expensive?
Suddenly, his gaze turned sharp and cold. His eyes seemed to pierce through my very thoughts.
"There are two ways to obtain Elixiran," he said firmly. "First, enter the tournament—for free. Second, buy it for... twenty gold Piah coins."
"Twenty gold Piah?!" I blurted out.
That amount—even if I sold our house and everything inside—wouldn't be enough.
"I know it's impossible for you," the healer said, his voice now calmer, tinged with pity. "That's why the only path left is the tournament. And if you truly love your mother, Rey... then now is the time to act."
I clenched my teeth. I already knew the answer deep down, but hearing it directly from someone else made the burden feel even heavier. I clenched my fists on my lap. That tournament... I didn't even know what it entailed. A race? A battle? A puzzle? Was I even strong enough for it?
"The tournament will begin in one year," the healer added, slipping a small scroll into my hand. "Bring this to the guards at Moniyan's palace gates. They will know you are a participant."
I looked at the small scroll. It wasn't much in size, but it felt heavier than a sack of rice.
"Thank you, healer..." my voice was hoarse.
He only nodded, then stood and walked slowly toward his horse tied under a tree. Before mounting, he turned back.
"Rey... sometimes, the ones who seem the weakest, hide the greatest strength when protecting what they treasure most."
Then he left, disappearing into the night, leaving only dust and hoofprints behind.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Mother was already sound asleep, her pale face illuminated by the dim glow of an oil lamp. I sat beside her bed, staring at the fine lines on her face that once shone brightly, now dulled by the illness gnawing away at her body.
"I will go to Moniyan, Mother..." I whispered softly, holding her frail hand. "I will get Elixiran... even if it costs my life."
All this time, I had saved not for her medicine, but simply to survive together—enough to eat daily, buy firewood during the cold seasons, and purchase cheap essentials to ease our daily needs.
But I knew... when someone falls seriously ill, the world becomes a cruel place.Everyone turns a blind eye. Merchants won't give a single pill without gold. Nobles only care about their blue blood. And neighbors? They have their own problems.
Money.
One word that changes everyone's face.
Without money... humans show their true colors.
I walked toward the corner of the room, where I kept my only savings.
That clay piggy bank was shaped like a rooster—I made it myself as a child, learning pottery from the village folk. There was a small slot on its head for slipping coins inside. Its red paint had faded, and its wings were slightly cracked.
I lifted it carefully and placed it on the table.
Tap... tap...
Using a blunt knife, I broke it gently. The sound of clay shattering echoed softly in the silent night.
Bronze coins and a few silver ones rolled out—an amount not even enough to buy half a loaf of wheat bread in the capital. My hands trembled, my eyes burned.
"This... is what two years of surviving looks like..."
I collapsed to my knees, weak. It felt like watching my hope crumble bit by bit. But I couldn't give up here. I mustn't.
I wiped away the tears threatening to fall. Then I looked again at the scroll the healer gave me a year ago, lying on the table.
That tournament... was the only way.
Not just for Mother. But for myself—for the hope that hadn't yet bloomed, that I had to force to sprout on this thorny, barren land.
"Moniyan... I will come."
The next morning, I packed a few clothes and an old cloak. Not much to bring—a few pieces of dried bread, a pouch of water, and a worn map showing the way to Moniyan. The map also belonged to Jagu; though the drawings had faded, every line held the journey of Jagu to the kingdom of Moniyan.
Mother was still asleep when I finished packing everything.
I stood silently, gazing at her face. Those weary lines, her graying hair, and her uneven breathing—all of it was the reason I dared to step forward. Because if I stayed still, I would lose her.
"I'm sorry, Mother..." I whispered softly, lowering my head to kiss her cold hand. "I can't be the soldier you wanted me to be... but I will be the son who saves your life."
I looked at the sky, still dark.
Dawn had yet to come.
But I knew—as soon as I stepped out of the village, I wouldn't be back for a long time.
"Protect her until I return," I said quietly, to no one in particular.
To the sky? To Father's spirit that might still linger here?
I left the house, closing the door gently so as not to wake her.
My steps left tracks on the wet ground from last night's rain.
The rustling leaves in the wind accompanied my departure, as if giving me a final farewell.
Hago village remained silent.
The neighbors' lamps were out, and the narrow streets were lit only by the fading starlight.
I walked toward the main road, where the path to the capital began. From here, it would take two days on foot through forests, valleys, and several royal checkpoints.
And through it all, I would be alone.
But... I didn't feel afraid.
Strangely, I felt light.
Maybe because for the first time in my life, I knew exactly where I was going.