Chapter 602: He's Dead Eight Years Ago
Even Abel hadn't expected the connection between the two.
He turned around to carefully assess the upright and gentle young man behind him, finding a resemblance to an old acquaintance.
"Is your father really Willie?"
Eddie clenched his fists hidden in his sleeves, his thoughts drifting back to a time long ago when his father had held his hand and led him into the courtyard. Pointing to the medicinal herbs on the wooden rack, he had explained the names and uses of each one to Eddie.
"Eddie, take a look. This is called Plantago, with a sweet taste and a cold nature."
"Dad, can this herb be consumed?"
"Of course, Plantago has diuretic, cooling, antitussive, and expectorant effects."
"I see. Is it because Sister has been feeling a bit unwell recently that we needed to find it?"
"Yes, Eddie, you're truly clever."
The memories scattered, and in the blink of an eye, they transformed into the tragic scene of a car accident, with his mother no longer breathing.
His father, covered in blood, lay on the ground, barely clinging to life as he grasped Eddie's hand, exerting all his strength to utter his final words.
"Eddie, your mother and I won't be here anymore. You must take care of your sister."
"Okay."
"And...take this, go to Terrace Street, find... Mr. Jonathan Owen."
"Dad, please don't leave us."
"Eddie, the only regret I have is I may never be able to return to Moon Hall, Onistead in my lifetime."
time Eddie had
his father embraced his
requests: to take care of Kate and to return
down by his father, Eddie found Terrace Street, where a master
Moon Hall was
had taken his mother and
was the greatest source of pride and deepest shame for Moon Hall because he had married
and gentle, tolerant and unassuming. She would hum tunes as she prepared breakfast for him
father wanted to scold them, his mother always intervened with a smile, and
say that their
his mother due to her humble
so-called "grandfather"
now bearing a
fell, Leandro's eyes grew slightly
a resemblance to
hesitantly made his way over, his elderly hand stopping in
He seemed somewhat lost.
"Y-you're called Eddie, right?"
"Yes."
father? How's he
suddenly tightened. He was eager to hear the answer, yet afraid of
a hint of resentment and disdain crept
drove him out of the Zamora family, why
"I...,"
"He's dead."
"What... what?"
Dead?
years, due to his own pride and prejudice, he had refused to swallow his pride, but waited for his son to return and apologize. As long
son to have such integrity, leaving Onistead with
came. When he finally heard the news, it was already too
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