Three Years That Changed Everything
Time, relentless as it is, passed without mercy. Three years had gone by since the first days of my struggle began. I am now fifteen years old—an age not quite grown, but old enough to know the bittersweet taste of life.
The small farm I painstakingly built was finally showing results. Two sheep were sold yesterday, exchanged for a stack of money that I immediately used to buy decent food. For the first time, I felt like my life was no longer bound by hunger.
Life began to feel more orderly. Dozens of sheep now filled the simple wooden pen I owned, and my job was simply to care for them until they were mature enough to sell. A simple task, yet one that demanded no small amount of perseverance.
As in previous years, I still wandered through every corner of the village each day, looking for extra work I could do. And that day, amidst the dusty roads and fading sounds of the market, my eyes landed on something striking and different—a modest forge, its flames ablaze and metal sparks flying. A swordsmith was at work.
A swordsmith... I thought, both amazed and uncertain. "Damn… such a cool job, but also really hard."
I hesitated in silence, then took a deep breath. "Ugh, I've wasted too much time today looking for something worthwhile. Might as well just approach him."
I stepped forward, my body feeling small before the blaze and the steel hammer pounding hot metal.
"Hello, Sir," I greeted softly, approaching slowly. "Do you have a moment to spare...?"
Without turning, the man answered in a deep, firm voice, "Go away, kid. This place isn't for children like you."
The clanging of metal split the air, merging into our unbalanced exchange.
But I wasn't one to give up easily. "Don't you care about a kid who wants to learn...?" I asked again, hiding my hope behind an innocent tone.
"Go back to your parents. This isn't a place to play," he replied again, this time colder.
I took a breath, trying one last trick. "Actually... I'm lost. Could you help me?"
His hammer paused. For the first time, he turned to look at me. His face was furrowed, his voice irritated but carrying an unwilling sense of responsibility.
"Annoying... You don't even know the way home? Where do you live?"
I looked at him, trying to steady the tremble in my voice. "I don't know. I don't remember. I just... suddenly ended up here."
He froze for a moment. Then lifted a hand, wiped sweat from his brow, and sighed. "Damn it... fine. I know a public shelter for lost children. Follow me."
He walked slowly, leaving behind the glow of the forge and stepping onto a quiet cobblestone path. I followed him, but each step felt heavy with the truth I was about to speak. I realized this had gone too far—and before the lie took deeper root, I had to confess.
"Sir, actually..." I said softly, but the words hung in the air.
He turned slowly, looking at me with a calmer face now, waiting.
My head bowed, and from my lips came the truth I had long kept silent. "Actually... I no longer have any parents."