He paused, a smile tugging at his lips—a genuine smile he hadn’t worn in a long time.
A hint of the dramatic bravado unique to youth crept into his voice.
“From now on, they won’t bully you.”
“If anyone ever calls you ugly again, or refuses to give you food…”
“You come and tell me.”
“I’ll beat them up for you!”
“Mm!”
“Come on, let’s hurry to the monastery. I’ll put medicine on you. Any later and Mother Superior will start worrying.”
“Okay!”
Under the setting sun, a tall figure and a short one supported each other, walking toward the old, worn-down monastery.
The monastery door was made of heavy oak, engraved with a faded holy light cross.
For Victor, this door wasn’t just a sanctuary—it felt more like a cage that imprisoned his shameful origins.
As soon as they stepped through the gate, a few nuns who had been sweeping the courtyard stopped their work.
They didn’t speak loudly, but quickly exchanged glances, then lowered their heads and huddled together, whispering.
Though their voices were kept low, in the quiet courtyard, those fragmented words still buzzed into Victor’s ears like flies.
“Shh!”
“Look, it’s that woman’s son.”
“Goodness, he is handsome, but what a pity…”
“Her man ran off, and she stole the sacred relics.”
“He’s a disgrace to the monastery.”
“Carrying blood that filthy.”
“I heard his mother, the nun, ran off with that kind of man in the first place.”
“Don’t let him near the Altar. That child has a musty smell that can’t be washed off—the smell of a sinner!”
Victor’s body stiffened.
He silently lowered his head, his golden hair falling forward, hiding his once-clear green eyes.
Those voices, though not loud, were like dull knives, cutting into his heart one slice at a time.
He clenched his fists, nails digging deep into his palms, using the pain to suppress the urge to argue back.
But the Shirley holding his arm hadn’t heard any of those venomous words.
Her hearing wasn’t great—or rather, her world was too pure; it automatically filtered out such malice.
“Mother Superior!”
Shirley limped toward the closed door at the end of the corridor and called out.
The door creaked open.
The abbess of the monastery, an elderly nun with a kind face but a hint of authority, stepped out.
When she saw the shocking bloodstains on Shirley’s knee and the scar on her face—redder and more swollen from crying—her eyes reddened with distress.
“My child, how did this happen?”
“Quick, come into the Clinic.”
The Mother Superior hurriedly took Shirley’s arm, and only then noticed Victor standing behind her, equally battered.
Her gaze paused on his bruised left eye and bleeding lip. The look in her eyes was complicated—pity, helplessness, but above all, a deep distance.
She didn’t say a word to Victor. She just gave him a silent glance, then guided Shirley straight toward the pharmacy, completely ignoring Victor standing there.
Victor remained rooted to the spot, his fingers trembling slightly.
The quiet laughter of the nuns behind him seemed to grow louder.
***
Inside the Clinic, a nun skillfully cleaned Shirley’s wounds and applied golden wound ointment.
When she was done, the nun didn’t even glance at Victor. She carried the medicine tray away, slamming the door shut behind her.
Only Victor and Shirley were left in the room.
Shirley was clearly puzzled by the atmosphere.
She looked at Victor’s battered face, then at the retreating back of the nun, and muttered under her breath:
“That’s strange. Sister is usually so kind to everyone. Why didn’t she pay any attention to you just now?”
She turned back, saw Victor’s dazed expression, and immediately grabbed a cotton swab and ointment from the tray.
“Brother Victor, hold still. It might sting a little.”
Shirley said worriedly.
Victor snapped back to reality, forcing a smile and puffing out his chest to act strong.
“I’m fine. I’m a man. I’m not afraid of pain.”
Shirley carefully applied the ointment to Victor’s lip.
“Ssss—!!”
A searing pain shot through him. Victor couldn’t help but cry out, tears nearly spilling from his eyes.
“Pfft, Brother’s such a show-off.”
Shirley laughed at his comical reaction, then her movements became even gentler.
The cooling sensation of the ointment soothed the wound. Victor watched Shirley’s focused side profile, and the stone in his heart—cold because of the nuns—began to slowly melt.
He was silent for a long time—so long that Shirley thought he had fallen asleep.
Finally, the words Victor had been holding back burst through like a broken dam, and he asked in a low voice:
“Shirley, you…”
“Do you know why they treat me like that?”
Shirley’s hands paused. She shook her head, confusion written all over her flushed face.
“No. Brother is so good. Why would anyone hate you?”
Victor gave a bitter smile—a smile that carried a desolation beyond his years.
“Because…”
“Of my mother.”
He said in a low voice, his tone full of humiliation.
“She was originally the holiest nun in the monastery, but she betrayed the rules of the holy light. She fell in love with a man she shouldn’t have, and ran away with him.”
“Before she left, she also stole from the monastery to sell for money.”
“In their eyes, my mother is a traitor and a thief.”
“So, as her son, I am original sin.”
He lifted his head and stared at the gray sky outside the window, his eyes hollow.
“They think I carry filthy blood, that I am destined to be like my mother—a bastard despised by the world.”
After listening, Shirley didn’t flinch away in fear like other children, nor did she show any disgust.
She simply looked quietly at Victor, and then tears suddenly spilled from her clear eyes.
“Then they must be really dumb.”
Shirley said, crying.
“Brother Victor is a really good person!”
“You stood up to those mean kids for me, and you helped me put on medicine.”
“You’re kinder than any of us!”
She extended her pinky finger and solemnly linked it with Victor’s stiff one.
“If the Lord Holy Light God really exists, He definitely wouldn’t despise Brother.”
“Because He must be able to see that Brother carries the brightest light in his heart.”
“I don’t care what anyone else says. I just want to be Brother’s friend.”
“Only Big Brother never calls me ugly, and never looks down on me for being an unwanted orphan.”
Victor gazed into Shirley’s sincere eyes, and something soft slammed violently into his heart.
He reached out and took Shirley’s hand in his, his gaze shifting from confusion to an unprecedented resolve—with a hint of obsessive tenderness.
“Shirley.”
“Thank you.”
He raised his hand, his movement so gentle as if he were touching a rare treasure, and lightly brushed the scar on Shirley’s cheek.
“You’re not ugly at all.”
Victor’s voice was very soft, but it sounded like a sacred vow.
“I will risk everything to find medicine that can erase this scar.”
“I’ll make you the most beautiful little princess in the world.”
Shirley laughed through her tears. She gently pinched Victor’s arm, her voice choked but pretending to be fierce:
“Don’t say that about risking everything!”
She buried her head in Victor’s chest and hugged him tightly around the waist, like a kitten seeking security.
“Victor is my only friend in this world.”
“Promise me—from now on, don’t risk your life for anyone. Live well, and stay by my side, okay?”
Victor felt the warmth in his arms and listened to the steady beat of that small heart.
“Okay, I promise.”
“As long as Shirley is here, I will always be your Brother Victor.”
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