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The smoke had settled.
Gilbert ran, breath sharp in his chest, the path scattered with broken glass and splintered wheels. A carriage lay overturned. Ash floated in the air like slow snow. The shooting had stopped — but the silence was worse.
He dropped beside the first wounded man, barely conscious.
“Plea… Please… save me…” the man rasped, blood leaking from beneath his coat.
Gilbert reached for his satchel.
A scream tore the air behind him. Another man — clutching his throat, eyes wide in pain — grabbed Gilbert by the collar with shredded fingers.
“Do something! You’re the damn doctor, aren’t you?!”
Gilbert broke free gently, hands trembling. “You need to lie down—”
Another voice called out. A woman this time. Elderly. Her leg twisted unnaturally beneath her.
And then another. Then another.
He ran from body to body. Some innocent. Some armed. Henchmen he once recognized, faces twisted in pain or rage. No questions. No judgment. Just hands. Gauze. Stitching. Anything.
“They left us—”
“Where were you? Why weren’t you here?”
“Gilbert!”
“Don’t let me die—”
“Doctor, please—”
He couldn’t keep up. Hands shaking. Eyes wide. Panting. A crushing helplessness pressing down.
Then—
A hand landed on his shoulder.
He turned.
Dominick stood behind him.
Expression unreadable. Watching.
Gilbert’s breath caught in his throat—
Gilbert jerked awake on the couch, breath snagging in his chest like a pulled thread. The fire had burned low. Outside, rain tapped gently on the shutters. His shirt clung to him — soaked in sweat — and his heart thudded loud enough to echo in his ears.
Blood. Screams. Bodies. His mind still gripped the remnants of the nightmare.
A soft touch landed on his arm. “Are you alright, Gilbert?”
Elena's voice, quiet and warm. She stood beside him, worry hidden in the gentleness of her tone.
He wiped a hand down his face. “Y-Yeah…” he murmured, voice rough. “It’s that... again.”
“You started having them again lately,” she said, easing down beside him.
“They come and go,” he said, trying to steady his breathing. “Don’t worry.”
Elena reached for the blanket draped over the arm of the couch and tucked it over his lap. “Maybe it’s time to go do something,” she teased softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Alex has made you quite lazy recently.”
A faint smile broke through the lines on his face. “Yes, he did. But I already hauled the wood, fed the animals, fixed the gate… I can't let him keep beating me to it.”
Elena laughed and leaned her shoulder gently against his.
“How adorable.”
Her eyes lingered on him longer now, filled with gratitude.
Finally, she spoke.
“Thank you, dear. For getting us out of that place. I know what you carried. I was afraid too. Always afraid of that life. Never question what you did. I’m with you. Always.”
Gilbert looked down, questioning, thinking... and doubting a past he was afraid of thinking of.
“You... really think I did the right thing?”
A silence passed between them, filled only by the ticking of the mantle clock and the patter of rain.
“Gilbert... You got me out of a life where I turned a blind eye to crime. Told myself I was innocent… even while atrocities caused by brother were happening. These years have been the best of my life."
"You. Alex. A quiet home. A peaceful village."
"What more could I ask for?”
“I’m glad too, Elena,” Gilbert said.
And they sat like that, side by side on the worn couch. Gilbert reached over, clasped Elena’s hand with both of his and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She squeezed his hands in return, mirroring the gesture with quiet affection.
“Come on, now. Alex is waiting for you outside. Keep him away from the house while I prepare his birthday cake, alright?” Elena said, smiling gently.
"Sure. Let's make this one special for him. I also finished preparing the gift... I really hopes he likes it."
The trail curved gently up the mountain’s spine, narrow and soft beneath worn leather soles. Wild grass swayed waist-high along the path, silvered at the tips by a restless morning wind. Far below, the valley lay folded in layers of green and ash-brown, the tiled roofs of the village scattered like toy pieces among the trees. Overhead, clouds moved in slow procession, thick enough to let the rain fall as a fine, steady mist.
Alex tucked his chin deeper into his collar. His shirt, cotton and too thin for the chill, clung to his back. He stepped carefully, watching his footing on the softening earth.
A few paces ahead, Gilbert moved with practiced ease. He had no a satchel of bandages and dried herbs, and that same dark coat he always wore, its sleeves rolled up despite the weather.
Behind them, the sound of the village bells had faded into memory. Out here, only the wind spoke — tugging gently at sleeves and hair, whispering through the brush like an old voice.
Alex glanced up toward the ridge. “Say, Father... doesn’t this trail look a bit different from last year? The slope near the ridge — it used to curve left, didn’t it?”
“Good eyes, son. You’re right. The path shifted. Probably after that big rain last autumn, loosened the soil, pushed everything downhill a bit.”
Gilbert looked up at the sky, squinting past the clouds.
“Speaking of rain... Didn’t expect this weather today. Not heavy, but still.”
“Yeah,” Alex murmured. “Kind of unpredictable.”
A silence settled for a moment. They kept walking.
“You don’t have any patients today?” Alex asked, after a time.
“Not for the last three days,” Gilbert said. “Which, believe me, is a good thing. Quiet means everyone’s well.”
“You’re right,” Alex said. Then, quieter: “...I just wanted to come with you. Learn more about what you do.”
Gilbert turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Planning to treat people now? If you do, you’ll ruin my quiet days. You’ll race me to the patients like you do with the chores.”
“I want to help you and mother, I do,” Alex said. “But part of me also just... wants something new. I don’t know.”
His father stopped at the ridge, brushing wet hair from his brow.
“I get you. That’s your age talking. You’re growing. You’re a smart boy.”
They reached the summit in silence.
The view opened wide, forested slopes dropping steeply into shadowed hills, the distant glint of a river curling like silver thread through the valley. Somewhere out there was the rest of the world. Larger towns. Cities. Places Alex had only heard of.
A breeze rolled across the ledge. The rain had slowed to a mist.
“Here we are,” Gilbert said quietly.
They stood still a while.
Then Gilbert spoke again, his voice quieter now. Reflective.
“Listen to me, Alex. Learning new things, growing, evolving—They’re beautiful things. But they can also be double-edged.”
Alex glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
"Sometimes I wonder if I hadn’t become a doctor... maybe I’d have seen less sorrow. Fewer sicknesses. Fewer deaths. A simpler life.”
“But your life is simple. You were born in the village, married Mother, run a farm, help people...”
“You’re right,” Gilbert said. “And I’m proud to save lives. But I’m still just one man, son. And some days... when I see a kind face in pain, someone dying and still thanking me... even though I couldn’t save them... It crushes me.”
Alex stood there, letting the words settle inside.
Then Gilbert exhaled, shaking off the weight. He smiled again. “But enough with that. Look! We already reached the summit—”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Without warning, Gilbert scooped Alex up, settling him onto his shoulders.
“Whoa! Father!” Alex laughed, gripping tight.
Gilbert urged, his eyes sparkling.
“Come on, say something! To the scenery! Come on!”
Alex asked.
“Huh? You want me to talk to trees now?”
Gilbert playfully said, trying to sound threatening.
“Yes! Or I’ll toss you off!”
Alex giggled.
“Uhh… Hello, scenery!”
His voice bounced off the mountaintops, echoing back in cheerful ripples through the crisp air. “Hello, scenery!” the mountains seemed to answer, and Alex laughed again, delighted by the sound.
“That's my own voice, Father” he said. “No real answer.”
Then, just as Gilbert was about to kneel, to drop Alex off his shoulders—
A beautiful rainbow began to arc faintly in the distance, curved over the valley like a promise.
Gilbert let out a proud laugh, pretending for a second that he saw this coming, before letting the sight sink into his eyes.
“Just needed a little time. Beautiful things need time and patience, son."
Alex stared, with his eyes glowing, almost in disbelief at the timing. “Whoa...”
A silence as the two watched the gorgeous scenery, burying it into their memory.
Then—
"Ugh." An awkward grunt ruined the moment.
Gilbert shifted beneath his son. “Alright, now get off. You’re a big boy now. Not easy to lift anymore.”
Alex laughed, finally sliding down, and landed lightly on the ground. He looked back up at the rainbow, then at his father, feeling the warmth of the moment settle into his chest.
The clouds had cleared by the time they returned. A silver light dappled through the treetops, and the scent of damp earth clung to their boots as Alex and Gilbert walked side by side down the quiet hill trail. The trees whispered in the breeze behind them, and the fields ahead glimmered with rain-freshened green.
When they reached the gate, Gilbert gave his son a sideways glance.
"Alex," he said, casually brushing his hands clean against his trousers, "go and check on the farm. Say hi to the rooster for me while you're at it."
Alex grinned, stretching his arms overhead. "Sure," then darted off down the path toward the pens.
Gilbert watched him go, the boy's stride still light despite the hike, and let out a soft exhale.
“That was easy,” he muttered to himself. “Now to check if the cake is ready.”
The front door creaked open. He stepped inside.
"Elena!" he called out, wiping his boots carefully. "Is everything ready yet—?"
He froze.
A black hat hung by the wall. One he recognized from years ago. And beneath it... a long, dark coat. Neatly hung. Out of place in their home like a knife at the dinner table. His breath hitched. Gilbert moved fast, crossed the floor in three strides, heart pounding loud and low in his chest. The guest room door stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open—
Elena stood inside, turned halfway toward him. Her hands were clasped in front of her, trembling. Her lips parted slightly, as if she’d tried to say something but lost the words halfway through.
Her eyes said the rest.
And sitting on the couch, legs slightly apart, arms resting over his knees, posture relaxed yet unshakable — was the old friend Gilbert never wanted to see again... the man he wished he would never meet again.
Dominick Marviano.
He looked older, a darker presence now settled like smoke in his shoulders. But the voice, when it came, was just the same.
"How have you been, Gilbert?"
Calm. Casual. Possessive. As if the room, the air, the years, all of it still belonged to him.
Alex crouched near the fence, running a hand along the wood.
"Fence is holding fine. Father worries too much.”
A few splinters had broken loose, nothing serious. The goats grazed nearby, uninterested in repairs or human concerns.
From a distance, two boys watched.
"Tch… it's that show-off again," Jori muttered, arms crossed.
"Yeah, thinking he’s strong and all…" Benno added, trying to sound tough, but glancing toward the girl near them.
Sella rolled her eyes and stepped forward. “He actually helps his family,” she said, brushing past them, “unlike you lazy boys.”
Neither answered. Just stood there, cheeks flushing red.
Sella walked toward the pasture, waving as she approached. “Hi, Alex!”
Alex looked up, immediately brightening. “Oh—hi, Sella!”
“Back from the hike? How was it?” she asked.
Alex leaned against the post, his eyes still caught in the sky’s fading light.
“This time it was different for some reason. I loved it. A beautiful rainbow showed up in the weirdest moment.”
Sella glanced back at the other two boys sulking.
“Jori and Benno still mad?”
Alex sighed, smile fading slightly.
“Yeah… They still don’t accept the loss.”
“Don’t mind them,” she said with a soft chuckle. “You know everyone in the village loves you, right?”
Alex looked down, eyes flickering with a quiet doubt.
“I know… everyone’s good to me…”
“No,” Sella said, stepping closer, voice firmer. “I really mean it. My dad won’t shut up about you, and Uncle Ruth neither. You’re… you’re like the role model here. You help people, do first aid, learn medicine from your dad… and you’re strong.”
“R-Really?” Alex's eyes widened. “That’s what they say?”
“Of course,” she said with a nod, smiling.
Alex’s cheeks flushed with warmth. A sheepish smile crept over his face.
But then—
“Alex!” a voice called from behind.
Alex turned. “Ah—hey, Uncle Ruth!”
Ruth was walking up the path, hands on his hips, brow furrowed.
“So… who’s the man?” he asked.
Alex tilted his head. “Man?”
“Didn’t meet him yet? Tall blonde guy with glasses? Said he was looking for your father.”
“A patient?” Alex's voice was more alert now.
“That’s what he said. But he didn't look line one...”
Alex straightened.
“Did he say how he knew my father? Did he seem… harmful?”
Ruth shook his head.
“Not sure. Didn’t talk much and I honestly didn’t like him. That’s why I came to ask you.”
Alex’s expression shifted. Calm, but sharpened.
“We don’t get many outsiders here…”
Sella looked between them, her voice small now. “W-Who is he?”
“I don’t know,” Ruth said. “But I’ll gather the villagers, just in case. You go check on your parents. Alright?”
Alex nodded. Sella stood frozen, then slowly stepped beside Ruth. Her fingers clung to his sleeve.
The boy placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Sella. Uncle Ruth will walk you. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
She nodded, eyes wide. Ruth gave Alex one last look, then turned toward the village with the girl in tow. Alex didn’t waste another second. He turned, and ran.
A heavy silence filled the guest room.
Dominick sat on the couch, composed, one arm draped across his knee. Gilbert and Elena stood across from him— stiff with unease. Another chair sat unused in the corner. The birthday cake on the side table remained untouched.
Dominick raised an eyebrow.
“May I smoke?”
Gilbert hesitated, jaw clenched, then gave a reluctant nod.
Elena said nothing. Her eyes burned through him, disgust simmering beneath every breath.
Dominick lit a cigarette, slow and deliberate, like a ceremony. The match flared. The flame touched the tobacco. He exhaled, smoke curling through the still air.
“Beautiful place you’ve got here,” he said, glancing around.
He took another drag.
“I enjoyed the ride up. Can’t wait to experience it again.”
The cigarette crackled faintly.
Gilbert finally spoke.
“How did you find us?”
Dominick smiled without warmth.
“In case you forgot—I’m the one who got you on the boat. The rest was easy. I’ve got contacts in taverns and roadside inns.”
Elena’s voice came out sharp, tight.
“D-Do others know?”
“Don’t worry. Only me.”
Gilbert narrowed his eyes.
“And what are you here for, Dominick?”
Dominick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, smoke drifting lazily from his cigarette.
“Bad news: The Dons are resuming the search.”
Both Gilbert and Elena's hearts sank.
Dominick continued.
“At first, there were other priorities. But now... we’ve taken over almost entirely. They gave up on the hunt in big cities. Now they’re considering even this area. Not just you, Gilbert. No one escapes us. But I got your backs.”
Gilbert frowned.
“So you came to warn us? To help us run?”
Dominick gave a flat look.
“No. Because you will be found eventually. We have to settle this.”
Before he finished the sentence, Elena desperately rushed toward a tall chest of drawers near the far wall. Reaching up high, she pulled open the top drawer, one even Alex would never think to look in.
“Elena—!” Gilbert shouted, but she didn’t stop.
She pulled out a dust-covered revolver. Aimed it squarely at Dominick. Her hands shook... but her eyes did not.
Dominick looked at the weapon with mild amusement.
“Guns don’t suit you, Elena. That thing’s older than your child. Is it even loaded? Looks like it hasn’t been touched in over a decade. The dust on is ridiculous.”
Gilbert slowly walked toward her and raised his hand. “Put it down.”
Elena’s breathing was heavy. Her arm trembled. Then... she slowly lowered it as Gilbert gently took it from her with both hands and placed it on the low side table... right beside the birthday cake. The celebration, tainted.
A quiet tragedy.
“So... what do we do now, Dominick?” Gilbert asked.
Dominick took one final drag before letting the cigarette burn low.
“Don’t make that face. You’re not dying. Neither is she.”
He leaned back slightly.
“But I have to give the Dons something. Something real, to buy peace.”
The silence was sharp as broken glass. Elena’s fists clenched. Her teeth ground. She already knew.
Dominick’s voice cut through the room.
“Where is your child?”
Gilbert flinches upon hearing the sentence.
“We have no child. He’s dead,” Elena snapped.
Dominick’s eyes stayed on her.
“You’re lying. You always were a bad liar. You were pregnant when you ran. He’d be thirteen by now.”
“Your mistake was reaching into nearby villages to help people,” Dominick went on. “The miracle doctor. A generous healer who sometimes brings his boy along to learn. Word spreads. Stories travel. I don’t have eyes in your village, it’s isolated, but I do in others.”
His eyes pierced Gilbert with disappointment. “You got comfortable. You thought a fake last name was enough. You thought the mountains would hide you.”
“Then why did you help us in the first place?” Gilbert asked, voice tight.
“Because it was my sister’s choice to follow you.” His voice softened for just a moment. “And I respected it. No matter how much you both hate me... I hoped you’d never be found. And I did my part. I’m still doing more.”
Gilbert’s eyes narrowed.
“Then why ask about our son?”
Dominick flicked ash onto the floor.
“He’s coming with me.”
And just like that, Gilbert lost all patience, warmth and kindness in that one line as he grabbed a wooden chair and hurled it across the room towards the couch, towards Dominick.
The latter, still seated, still smoking, leaned in and deflected the chair mid-air with a sharp, precise kick, shattering it against the roof.
Gilbert surged forward.
“You’re not doing this!”
Dominick remained on the couch. Steady. Waiting.
“Nothing will happen to him. He’ll be with me. Safe. the Dons want your head. I barely convinced them to stop the hunt… if I give them something more valuable. Something I can use.”
Elena’s voice shook. “… What?”
“Your son will work for me. Run errands. Be a strategic pawn. Kids are surprisingly useful in my world, more than half the muscle and henchmen people throw around. Rest assured, I won’t give him guns. I won’t use him as bait or a human shield. I don’t need to waste time explaining, but he’ll be both useful and safe.”
“Over my dead body,” Elena snarled. “You’re not doing this to Alex.”
A heavy silence as none of the three added a word.
Then...
Dominick’s calm exterior cracked—just slightly. The look in his eyes dimmed, no longer patient, but cold with disappointment. He let out a slow exhale, then placed his cigar down in the ashtray with deliberate care, as if smoking no longer mattered.
He rose from his couch.
His voice was almost tired, the voice of a man who had enough.
“Elena,” he said, gesturing toward Gilbert. “I’m cleaning up his mess. Don’t look at me like I’m the villain. I’m the one following orders and negotiating for your lives. All he had to do was trust me. Man up. Stay in the city. But one massacre… and he ran like a coward.”
“Now here we are.” He leaned forward, tone biting. “What’s the backup plan, Gilbert? Maybe go live in a cave? Pretend they just forgot you exist? Or how about you keep playing doctor until someone puts a bullet in your son instead of you?”
Elena collapsed to her knees. “Please… I’m begging you. Not Alex. Not my son!”
Gilbert stood frozen—his breath loud, uneven. The kind doctor, who once refused to swat a fly, now trembled with a fury that rattled through his shoulders. His jaw clenched, his face pale, eyes locked on Dominick with a quiet, unbearable rage.
And beneath it, his hand crept—slowly, almost unconsciously—toward the revolver he’d set down earlier.
Dominick’s eyes snapped to it as he drew his own weapon.
Elena gasped in horror.
Gilbert’s hands trembled, but he didn’t lower the gun.
“Oh, look at this,” Dominick said coldly, “A brilliant new plan. Get yourself killed and make your wife a widow and your son an orphan.”
“You don’t have what it takes to pull that trigger. You save lives. So drop the act.”
“You’ve got three seconds, I'm done giving you a chance after the other.”
“One…”
Gilbert didn’t move.
“Two…”
“DON'T!” Elena screamed.
The door burst open.
“Father! Mother!”
Alex stood at the entrance, out of breath from running.
Elena turned and pulled him to her chest, shielding him from Dominick’s line of fire.
Dominick didn’t move.
His eyes stayed fixed on Gilbert.
Gilbert looked at his son. Then at the gun.
Then dropped it.
Clatter.
Silence.
Only now did Dominick turn to look at the boy.
Their eyes met.
And Alex froze.
Behind the thin metal frame of his glasses, Dominick’s eyes held no warmth—no curiosity, no recognition. They weren’t looking at Alex. They were looking through him, like scanning a file, weighing a problem, dissecting a thing. Cold, pale, and unreadable, like frost on glass that never melts, no matter the heat around it.
For a moment, it was as if Alex wasn’t a person at all—just a shape. Something that could be moved, used, discarded.
That was when the fear settled in. Real fear. The kind that didn’t shout or scream. The kind that crept into your bones and whispered: this man is different.
The boy looked back at his father. At the gun.
Dominick exhaled, then rose, straightening his coat with a calm, practiced motion. One last breath left him in silence.
“I’ll come back in one or two hours.”
He turned toward the door and put a hand on the knob... but stopped, without looking back.
“Elena.”
No words came followed up for a beat...
Then—
“I’m sorry.”
The door shut behind him. Footsteps crunched through gravel.
Then vanished.
Thank you for reading :)
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