Whispers in the Firelight Chapter 1

To allow the female lead to successfully conquer him, the system faked my death.

When I opened my eyes again, six years had already passed.

I stood on the street penniless. The male and female leads were already living happily ever after, while I had just escaped a massive fire, so disheveled I didn't even have a single shoe.

Feeling a bit lost, I sent a message to Arthur.

"...Could you come pick me up?"

A call came back very quickly.

But the person speaking wasn't Arthur.

A child stayed silent for a moment, then said with deliberate coldness:

"Oh, another one pretending to be my mom."

* * *

But he still came.

A kind-hearted passerby had told him my location.

The breathing on the other end of the receiver hitched.

The voice was soft and sweet, and he hung up abruptly.

"Be there soon."

I returned the borrowed phone to the passerby and mouthed a silent "thank you."

When I was young, a high fever ruined my vocal cords. Since then, I hadn't been able to speak a single word.

Before long, a car stopped in front of me.

A child jumped out of the car, his legs kicking the air.

When he saw my face, his eyes flashed. With a cold little face, he quietly observed me for a moment.

His gaze landed on the foot missing a shoe.

Disheveled, dirty, covered in black soot.

Because I had just escaped from a fire.

When I opened my eyes again, I had time-traveled six years into the future.

My fingers curled; I belatedly felt a sense of embarrassment.

But I pretended not to care and used sign language to say:

"I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Could you lend me some money? I'll leave right away."

Six years had passed, and the male and female leads were already living happily ever after.

Even my child had changed his tune and was calling someone else "Mom."

Halfway through signing, I suddenly realized Leo didn't understand sign language.

I borrowed the driver's phone, but just as I was about to type, Leo, looking unhappy, pulled me into the car.

It was the evening rush hour. I thought he was angry because he heard the honking of the cars behind us urging us to move.

He turned his head and stared out the window without speaking, so I had no choice but to show him the phone.

Leo kept his little face straight and asked me very seriously:

"How much money do you want?"

I typed: "One thousand dollars."

Leo stared at those three words for a moment, then said uncertainly:

"Ten million?"

My vision went dark.

I stared at him in disbelief and quickly waved my hands.

Leo pursed his lips, his voice full of childish innocence:

"Is that not enough?"

"I don't have that much money, but when we get home, I'll ask Dad to give it to you."

I furiously tapped on the phone screen.

But he pushed the phone I held in front of him away, his young voice sounding a bit muffled:

"I don't know a lot of characters. I can't read it."

How many words does a six-year-old actually know?

He clearly recognized a complex word like "borrow" just now, but now he couldn't tell the difference between "thousand" and "million."

I gave up in frustration, but when I looked down, I saw that Leo's shoes were on the wrong feet, and his socks were different colors.

Was he in that much of a hurry to leave the house?

I pursed my lips, feeling a bit sad, and reached out to point, wanting to let him know.

But he seemed to misinterpret my intention. Tilting his head, he asked me:

"Do you want to hold hands?"

He scrunched up his face, acting as if it were a huge imposition, but he still reached his hand over.

"Fine, I'll reluctantly let you hold it for a little while."