Chap 10: The Truth

Dũng sat silently by the lamppost, covering his ears, yet those whispers still slipped through. He was no longer afraid of death or an unfamiliar world. What tempted him now was the idea of a world where time stood still—a world of carefree innocence, where he could always remain a child, playing forever, just as Minh had described. No more throwing himself into life like his parents did.

His parents had always struggled to make ends meet, constantly bickering about money, calculating how much kindness they could afford to show others, always yelling at him about what to do and what not to do.

At eleven years old, he was still beaten by his father with whatever was within reach if he disobeyed. His mother could hurl the cruelest insults at him if he made a mistake. He wasn't allowed to argue back, even if he was right—otherwise, he'd be labeled disrespectful. He wasn't allowed to be himself—otherwise, he'd be seen as a bad child.

He didn't understand why he had to obey them when they didn't understand him at all. They only hurt his pride... Or—was that also a kind of love?

After all, when those children's bodies had been found, his parents had given in to his refusal to go to school. They had even agreed to send him to his grandmother's house while searching for a new home. If they didn't love him, if they weren't worried for his life, would they have done that? It was still love—just the kind of love that working-class parents couldn't express gently, like those from higher-class families.

Thinking that, he felt a pang of sorrow. If he went to Minh's world with the other kids, his parents would grieve—just like Minh's parents, just like the parents of the others who had died before him. He had once wished to grow up so he could help his parents, so he wouldn't be a burden to them anymore.

But… back then, when they were all together, he had forgotten the pain of his father's beatings, the pressure of his mother's scoldings. He had shed the weight of responsibility and returned to the carefree joy of childhood. Being with his friends—wasn't that what he wanted most?

Dũng trembled as he stood, taking a slow step forward. He was still within the light, but right on the edge—on the boundary between light and darkness, between life and death, between guilt and eternal happiness. He stared straight ahead, as if seeing through the shadow itself.

The shadow's form was made of swirling ash, coiling and merging in an endless, writhing dance. Whether it was an illusion or not, Dũng saw shapes of children playing within the swirling dust—his lost friends, and others he did not know, their souls trapped within.

The shadow's face shifted from a chaotic blur to the features of those other children, then finally to his own friends, one by one. The faces, made of drifting ash, whispered to him.

"Come play," Bảo said.

"It's so much fun here," Thắng added.

"Haha, I always made you guys laugh, didn't I?" Chiến grinned, his face twisted and crumpled.

"Play with us! If you don't, you're a scaredy-cat!" Hoa teased.

Then, finally, Minh's face emerged. Unlike the others, he didn't look happy. His ashen features were sorrowful, full of despair. He seemed to be trying to say something, but the other faces pulled at him, tearing him away as if dragging him back into the shadows.

The mouth of the shadow exhaled a cold, foul-smelling dust into Dũng's face.

"I miss you all so much, but... not like this!"

Minh's face contorted in terror, agony. His eyes bulged, his skin wrinkling in pain. His mouth gaped wide, as if he were being pulled apart, tormented by the swirling mist of countless other spirits.

"This isn't right, no... Oh! I'm sorry!"

Minh's sorrowful face twisted further, the swirling ashes forming an expression of grief, resentment, and unbearable pain.