Farewell to the hero! chapter 66

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“This isn’t just ‘luck,’ Tommy. It’s ‘happiness.’”

“Hee-ehh…”

I looked down at Tommy, who had practically melted over the table.

Judging by his constantly fidgeting bottom, the hour-long lesson had clearly worn him out.

For a boy his age, it was already quite impressive that he managed to sit still for that long.

Still, no matter how commendable, we had to finish what we started.

I tore my gaze away from the back of Tommy’s head, which looked so soft it was tempting, and steadied my resolve.

How many days had been wasted trying to match Tommy’s ever-changing moods, so quick to excite and sulk? More than I could count on two hands.

We couldn’t afford to delay further.

“Sit up straight and give it another try. You can do it.”

“Luck, happiness… aren’t they the same thing?”

“They’re entirely different.”

Why couldn’t he understand that?

I held back a sigh and tapped the worksheet with my quill.

His handwriting, much neater than a year ago, appeared and disappeared beneath the feather as he wrote.

There were a few ink smudges, likely from pressing too hard, but they didn’t bother me much.

The spelling, however, was another matter.

Reading through the clumsily written sentence, I suppressed the wave of frustration.

Of course, I knew learning to write wasn’t easy.

The fact that I’d mastered it in a month under Kindel’s teaching was rare—an exception, not the rule.

But after nearly a year, seeing a student still unable to form a proper sentence?

As a teacher, I couldn’t help but feel stifled.

Was I just bad at teaching?

A muted sigh slipped out.

The lingering hint of a smile vanished from my face.

Tommy, oblivious to my inner turmoil, simply beamed at me with his usual carefree grin, which only deepened my worries.

Tap, tap.

The quill that had been moving steadily across the worksheet slowed, then stopped.

Lost in thought, I absently rubbed my lower lip.

If the fault lay with me, then I’d have to explain things more clearly.

I had tried to tailor my lessons to a child’s perspective, but maybe it wasn’t enough.

Perhaps finding some shared connection in the examples would help him understand better.

As always, my musings ended in resignation and acceptance.

Having no prior experience teaching anyone, every moment with Tommy was unfamiliar territory—a cycle of new challenges and failures.

This time was no different.

Correcting the misspelled words, I redirected the conversation.

“Tommy, how do you feel if you find a coin on the street by chance?”

“Does it have an owner?”

“Hmm, let’s say it doesn’t.”

“Then I’d think I hit the jackpot!”

“And what about when you’re playing with your friends?”

“That’s so much fun!”

As he answered, likely imagining playing with his village friends, his freckled face lit up, his enthusiasm practically radiating off him.

His small bottom was bouncing so much on the chair that it was a wonder it stayed in place at all.

“So much fun!” he repeated, emphasizing his excitement with the same words over and over.

His fluffy red hair, puffed up like a cloud, swayed as he wriggled.

Though it lacked the smoothness of oiled hair and was merely managed with soap, it had a youthful sheen typical of a child.

“That’s the difference between luck and happiness. Luck is rare and feels great when it comes unexpectedly, while happiness is always there. We just don’t notice it often, which makes it feel precious when we do.”

I gently smoothed Tommy’s disheveled hair, adding softly, “That’s what it means.”

“Hmm…”

Tommy’s lips, plump and cherry-like, jutted out in thought.

His furrowed brows revealed the mental struggle as he tried to process my words.

Eventually, leaning into my hand as if my touch was familiar by now, he stretched his legs.

The chair, already teetering, lost its balance and toppled backward.

Oh no.

Spotting the imminent disaster, I lunged forward and caught the back of the chair just in time, preventing Tommy’s head from hitting the floor.

How could he get so caught up in excitement that he forgot about his own safety?

A moment later, and it could’ve been a disaster.

Tommy hiccupped in shock, wide-eyed at the near-accident. I wanted to scold him but held back.

His apologetic hiccups melted my rising anger.

It wasn’t like he did it on purpose.

Swallowing a sigh, I righted the chair and fixed my gaze on his startled brown eyes.

“Do you understand the difference between luck and happiness now?”

His wide eyes blinked a few times before he nodded slowly.

Picking up his quill, he wrote a word on the worksheet and held it up proudly.

“Is this how you write ‘luck’?”

His voice was cautious, almost timid.

Glancing at the word, I couldn’t help but smile wider.

A swell of pride filled me.

“That’s right. Smart boy.”

“Hee.”

Hearing my praise, Tommy grinned so broadly that his missing front tooth became prominent, a black gap amidst his pearly whites.

His hiccups had stopped at some point, his delicate eyelashes trembling slightly.

“Then I must feel happy every time I learn with you, teacher.”

“…Me too.”

His unexpected words made me bite the inside of my cheek.

I wanted to respond as an adult should—with composure and poise—but the lump in my throat betrayed me.

“I’m happy too.”

The words I finally managed felt clumsier than a patchwork quilt.

Memories of the past year surged like a tidal wave, washing away my carefully constructed walls.

The smile I had worn crumbled.

The seasons spent in Aiden Village had been both ordinary and extraordinary.

When I left Kindel, I thought everything would change—everything around me would shift, as if the world would flip on its axis.

But it hadn’t.

The world didn’t stop for me.

People lived their lives, and I had to live mine.

Time flowed relentlessly, grief dulled, and the breaths I thought would suffocate me came easier.

And so, life went on, bringing spring, summer, autumn, and winter in its cycle.

By the time another spring arrived, I no longer cried.

Now it was summer.

As time passed, I sometimes found solace in the realization that my sorrow wasn’t all-encompassing.

The pain that felt so immense today might seem trivial tomorrow.

I refused to let such fleeting sadness weigh me down.

In Aiden Village, surrounded by kind-hearted people like Tommy and the elder, I grew stronger day by day.

If someone asked whether my time here had been happy, I could answer confidently—yes, it had been.

Just as I was about to lose myself in these thoughts, a knock came at the door.

“Teacher, it’s me.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t hard to recognize the owner of the voice coming from outside the door.

That husky yet gentle tone unmistakably belonged to Tommy’s mother, Angela.

I stood up immediately, ignoring the light footsteps trailing behind me, and opened the door.

The humid summer air rushed in all at once.

Before I could be overwhelmed by the heat, I hurriedly pulled my robe’s hood over my head and looked at Angela.

With her softly orange-tinged hair neatly braided into two plaits, Angela held a basket in the crook of her right arm.

A cloth covered its contents, concealing what lay inside.

“You’re here, Angela,” I greeted her.

At my acknowledgment, Angela’s eyes crinkled slightly with a smile.

“Oh, hello! I made some apple pie today. Summer apples are so sweet, you know. Even when it cools down, apple pie is delicious, so please enjoy it later.”

Since I had refused to accept any payment for teaching Tommy, Angela had started bringing me food instead.

She would gift me items like tomatoes and potatoes grown in her garden, as well as bread or milk.

Today’s gift seemed to be apple pie.

“Thank you for always being so thoughtful. By the way, you must have finished your work early today?”

I remarked as I took the basket from her and glanced briefly at Tommy.

Angela, who usually came to pick up Tommy in the evenings after finishing her fieldwork, was making a rare early visit.

“Not really. Today’s the day that no-good husband of mine is coming back,” she replied.

“You mean Marcus?”

“Yes, that good-for-nothing. Looks like he’s finally decided to return for good this time.”

I had heard about Marcus before, though I had never met him in person.

Apparently, his free-spirited nature had led him to wander all over the kingdom, playing the accordion.

He hadn’t been home for three years.

Even so, it seemed he had stayed in touch and sent a letter saying he’d return today.

“Where’s my pie?” Tommy whined as he clung to her, only to have his ear playfully pinched by Angela.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, she clapped her hands.

“Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot. Over at the village head’s house, there’s someone waiting to see you, teacher. The head said to come by as soon as possible. It’s someone you’ll be happy to see.”

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