A Simple Wish

The sun started setting as Hin Yu walked down the narrow dirt path toward the village. The fish, heavy and still slightly warm, rested over his shoulder, wrapped in a piece of cloth. His stomach growled, but his mind was lost in thought.

"Should I sell this?" he murmured.

It was a big fish—strong, thick, and rare in the shallow river. He could sell it at the village market and get enough silver to eat for a few days. Maybe buy new clothes or something warm for the cold nights.

But then, another thought came.

The boy, the real Hin Xue, had died catching this fish. He had smiled, full of hope, just before slipping and hitting his head. His final moment of joy had come from imagining a full belly and maybe, just maybe, a kinder day.

To sell the fish now… it felt wrong.

Like throwing away someone's last dream.

Hin Yu stopped walking.

He looked at the fish, the smell of the river still clinging to it. Then he closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

"No," he whispered. "I'll eat it."

Eating it would not only stop his hunger, but it would also honor the boy's last wish. It was a small thing, maybe, but it mattered. And in a world that often crushed small hopes, keeping even one alive felt important.

By the time he reached the village, the sky was painted with orange and purple. Smoke from cooking fires curled into the air. Children laughed in the distance. But as Hin Yu walked closer, everything changed.

People saw him.

They stopped talking.

They didn't hide their expressions.

Some looked away like he smelled bad. Others laughed under their breath.

"Look, it's that cursed orphan again."

"Still alive, huh? What a shame."

"Maybe he'll vanish like his parents."

Hin Yu said nothing.

He didn't flinch. He didn't look down. He just kept walking.

He had lived through far worse than this.

In every world, on every planet, in every realm, there were always people like this. People who thought they were better because they had more. More money. More family. More comfort. And so they made fun of those who had less.

Hin Yu had seen them before. He had been laughed at before. But they didn't know who he was now.

He would let them talk.

Because one day, their words wouldn't matter anymore.

His house was at the edge of the village. It wasn't a house. More like a pile of bamboo tied together with vines and ropes. The roof sagged, and the walls were full of holes. But it was dry. And it was his.

He stepped inside and took a breath.

The air smelled of old wood, damp grass, and dust. In the back corner, something caught his eye.

A small wooden pendant.

Faded. Cracked. But still whole.

It was the only thing left behind by Hin Xue's parents before they disappeared. His last inheritance. His last connection to a family he never truly knew.

Hin Yu picked it up gently and stared at the rough carving on its surface—a symbol that no one seemed to remember anymore.

"Even in this life," he murmured, "the only things left behind… are silence."

But that was okay.

He had been alone before.

He had survived worse.

That night, as the stars appeared one by one in the sky, Hin Yu sat by a small fire in front of his shack. The fish was roasted on a stick, turning slowly over the flames. The smell made his mouth water, but he waited patiently.

This was not just food.

It was something more.

When it was finally ready, he took a bite. Warm, soft, and rich. It filled his stomach in a way that made his whole body relax.

For a moment, he said nothing.

He just sat there, letting the warmth spread through his chest.

Then, softly, he said, "You were right… This fish was worth it."

As he ate, his thoughts drifted to the future.

He didn't want much—not fame, not revenge, not to rule over kingdoms. He only wanted one thing:

A simple life.

To eat when he was hungry.

To sleep without fear.

To walk through this world without being looked down on.

But even that… wasn't easy.

To have a peaceful life in this world, he would need two things:

Money. And power.

Without money, he would always be hungry, always begging.

Without power, people would try to hurt him, control him, or use him.

And Hin Yu had already been used once before—betrayed and thrown away.

Never again.

"I will not be weak," he said quietly. "Not in this life. Not ever again."

A cold wind blew through the trees as the fire slowly died down.

Somewhere in the forest, a wolf howled at the moon.

But inside the little shack, the last of the fish was gone, and a boy sat alone, no longer scared, no longer small.

Not just a forgotten orphan.

Not just a cursed child.

But someone who had walked through death, survived betrayal, and returned with the will of a god.

Tomorrow, he would begin again.

A new life.A quiet life.His life.