"The Silver Cross: My Angel, My Monster" Chapter 2

That’s right—this boy, who looked barely fifteen or sixteen, was the owner of the candy shop, Solano Thorne.

This enigmatic youth never did what kids his age were supposed to do. He didn't go to class, had no friends, and never mentioned his parents. He just ran this candy shop alone, with me as his only employee.

“Long time no see,” the man at the bar said, standing up with a smile.

Solano frowned. “Why are you here?” His tone was utterly cold, not at all like one speaking to a friend. He then turned to me. “Take the day off. Go home early.”

“Why?” I blinked, confused.

“Didn't you say yesterday that today is your birthday?” Solano said flatly.

I nodded, my face full of touched emotion. What a considerate boss! Joyfully taking the chocolate cake I’d prepared earlier that morning, I grabbed my bag and clocked out early.

“Miss!” Just as I stepped out of the shop, the handsome stranger called out to me.

“Yes?” I looked back at him.

“Remember. Do not save anyone today.”

That weird divination again? I waved my hand dismissively and turned to leave.

Lighthearted music drifted out from a nearby media store. The upbeat melody floated through the air, and seeing that it was still early, I hummed along as I walked toward the snack street across the way.

“Ah! Aurora Vance!”

“Aurora Vance!”

“Ah... it’s Aurora!”

“Dear Lord... it’s Aurora!”

“Aurora is here!”

A chorus of startled cries rang out. In an instant, vendors packed their stalls, shopkeepers slammed their doors, and windows were bolted shut. The entire street was left empty, leaving me standing alone in the snow.

Was it really necessary? I wasn’t some marauding beast! It’s a long story, but to keep it short: supposedly, ten years ago, a fire suddenly erupted in the Blythe Street junkyard. Right then, the mother-in-law of a local woman kicked the bucket, claiming "A demon has entered the world" with her final breath...

Ten years ago happened to be exactly when I appeared in that junkyard. To make matters worse, that old woman was a famous local psychic whose prophecies were said to be unerringly accurate.

Wryly twisting my mouth, I scanned my surroundings. Only one trembling old lady was left, unable to run away in time. Hopping and skipping, I rushed forward and enthusiastically grabbed her arm. “Grandma, let me help you cross the street!”

The old lady shuddered, looking at me with miserable, cloudy eyes.

“There you go, Grandma. Take care.”

“Right,” the old lady nodded with a pained expression.

“Wait, Grandma, you look a bit familiar...” I frowned slightly, feeling puzzled.

“...Because this is the eight hundred and thirty-sixth time you’ve helped me across the street...” the old lady sighed.

My lip twitched. I smiled. “That’s okay, don't worry about it. With all these cars coming and going, it’s dangerous for you to be alone...”

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The old lady’s eyes welled with tears.

Silence.

The entire street was deathly quiet. Aside from a stray dog with a missing tail barking in the distance, there wasn't even a bicycle in sight...

“Even if there aren't cars... your legs aren't what they used to be. It’s always better to have help,” I continued, still smiling.

After seeing her across, I headed into a nearby supermarket.

I bought groceries and headed home.

Pushing the door open, I flipped the light switch, and the room instantly brightened. With a squeak, a dark, blurry object darted over my foot. I froze, then got angry. “Hey! We live under the same roof! Can’t you be a little more subtle? Stop being so arrogant, or I’ll buy some poison and finish you off tomorrow!”

The large black rat I called out shivered and vanished into a hole in the corner.

As I leaned down to change into my slippers, a large cockroach crawled unhurriedly past my eyes. I finally snapped, grabbing a slipper and—smack—flattening it into a roach-pancake.

“I told you all to behave. We could have lived in peace,” I muttered, putting on my slippers and standing up.

The room was a mess. A noodle bowl from breakfast, smelly socks from yesterday... I shrunk my neck in embarrassment. If Gareth saw this, he would definitely tease me.

I picked up a trash bag and tossed the bowl and socks inside. I pulled a fresh white floral tablecloth from the cabinet, set the chocolate cake on the table, and checked the clock. It was already 6:15. I dashed into the kitchen to start cooking.

Truthfully, I have zero talent for housework. After bustling in the kitchen for ages, the dishes I brought to the table were a bit of an eyesore. However, their appearance didn't dampen my mood. Sitting at the table, I happily poked candles into the cake.

I looked up at the time: 8:10.

“Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to Rory...” I hummed softly, straining my ears for the sound of footsteps outside the door.

Gareth, today is my twentieth birthday. You’ll come back, won't you?

You’ll come back, and then you’ll smile and pick me up, just like before, gently rubbing your nose against mine and looking at me tenderly as you say: “Rory, happy birthday.”

Just thinking about it made the corners of my mouth curl up uncontrollably.

Ten years ago, I woke up in a trash heap. My memory was a void, and everyone avoided me like the plague. Just when I thought I would die there and truly become a piece of garbage, someone carried me home.

His name was Gareth.

It was an early morning. As the first light of dawn rose in the east, he stood before me, the warm sunlight draping over him like an angelic halo.

Such an elegant, refined man. He held my filthy self with such care, as if I were a precious pearl.

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At ten years old, I didn't know where I came from, didn't remember my name, and couldn't even... walk or talk.

When I was unhappy, he used candy to coax a smile out of me. When I refused to eat, he fed me spoonful by spoonful.

He supported me, held me, and watched as I slowly learned to walk.

He taught me to speak. The first word I ever learned was... “Gareth.”

He taught me to write, stroke by stroke, hand in hand, with such tenderness and patience.

Even my name was chosen by him.

He said "Aurora" meant the dawn—a new beginning.

To me, Gareth was like oxygen; without him, I would forget how to breathe. I didn't care where I came from or what my "real" name was. None of it mattered as long as I remembered I was Aurora Vance.

The Aurora Vance who belonged only to Gareth.

Aurora: the dawn, a new beginning.

For five years, even with nothing to my name, I was blissfully happy because I had Gareth.

But one day, he suddenly vanished.

That was five years ago, on my fifteenth birthday. I came home from school to find a table of steaming food, my favorite chocolate cake, and a birthday gift from Gareth—a candy box filled with every colorful sweet I loved.

But he wasn't there to greet me with a smile as usual.

Just like that, he disappeared from my life without a trace.

However, I believe he will return. Because... he is my Gareth.

And I am his Rory.

Dong... dong... dong... The heavy bell of the distant clock tower struck eleven times. I snapped out of my reverie and checked the wall clock; the hand pointed toward eleven.

Today is my twentieth birthday. He’ll come back, right?

For five years, I had held this same expectation every birthday. My Gareth, wearing his white pullover and tan casual trousers, would walk through the door carrying a gift, and then...

One step, two steps, three steps, four steps, five steps, six...

He would reach the door and slide the key into the lock...

Suddenly, there was a faint sound outside. I froze. Footsteps!

Was it a hallucination? My imagination?

...No!

My eyes snapped wide, a thin veil of mist clouding my vision. “Gareth!”

Gareth was back! It had to be him! He was home!

I scrambled to my feet to open the door, but then hurriedly turned back to light the candles.

Seeing the warm flame of the candles dancing, I rushed toward the door. My knee slammed hard against a chair, sending me off balance. With a heavy thud, I crashed to the floor.

Almost crawling, I lunged for the door. “Gareth, Gareth, wait for me! I’m opening it!”

My trembling hands yanked the door open. I stared blankly at the white, snowy world outside.

There was no one.

The knee I’d just hit began to throb. It hurt—so much that the pain seemed to seep into my very heart... I sat on the floor, strengthless. But then, I gasped. There was someone lying in the snow outside!

 

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