Chapter 14 A Ray Of Light

By dawn. When the boy woke up, he saw Hubert sitting at the doorway, staring blankly into the distance. He ran over, looked Hubert in the eye, and spoke with absolute sincerity. "Thank you!" "You said... Thank you?" Hubert snapped out of his daze, his voice indifferent. "Yeah! Thank you for saving me!" The boy nodded firmly. "My mom always told me that people should be grateful! Well, I'll help you clean up your place!" And just like that, under Hubert's numb gaze, the boy busied himself around the clinic. For hours, he worked nonstop, until he finally returned the place to Hubert—spotless, fresh, and completely transformed. No bloodstains. Only the scent of something clean lingered in the air. "You're sick." Hubert didn't know why, but as he looked at the boy's back, those words slipped out. The boy turned around, his sunny smile never fading. "I know. The doctor already told me." "Then why don't you get treatment?" For the first time, Hubert—whose mind had only ever been consumed by killing—tilted his head and truly began to think. "I don't have money. The doctor kicked me out. But it's okay! I'll work hard to earn money and go see a doctor again!" Though the boy looked a little disappointed, he quickly regained his fighting spirit and even took off his cap. "Aha, I'm bald! Looks cool, right?" "You don't hate this world? Including the doctor who threw you out?" In the past year, Hubert hadn't spoken this much to anyone. But today, he asked with an unusually serious expression. "Why would I hate it? My mom told me the world is kind. As long as I try my best to be a good person, the world won't treat me unfairly!" The boy grinned as he spoke. "And thank you again for saving me!" Then, the boy left. Hubert didn't stop him. He simply stood there, staring blankly at the boy's fading figure. In the days that followed, the boy worked hard to find a job. He seemed unaware that this was Black Street—or what kind of place Black Street was. He always faced the world with warmth and lived each day with hope. During those days, Hubert didn't kill anyone. He only watched the boy from the shadows. He saw the boy curled up in a corner, gnawing on a piece of frozen bread. He also saw him helping a man who had been left for dead in the snow after being hunted down by enemies, desperately pleading for someone—anyone—to help. Though all he received were cold, indifferent stares, he still begged every single person who passed by. And later, Hubert saw him mourning when that man eventually died. On a stormy night, the boy struggled to dig into the frozen ground, trying to bury the man. But with his frail body, it was almost impossible. "You wanted to save him, but no one helped you. Don't you hate them for that?" Hubert appeared behind him at some point, his voice low. The boy shook his head. "My mom told me—doing good yourself is goodness. Telling others to be good isn't. Even though I can't help but try to persuade people, I never force them." "It's just a shame... he could have lived." The boy's voice was tinged with sadness. Hubert said nothing more. He simply finished digging the grave for him, then turned and left. It was the first time in his life he had ever dug a grave for the dead. As time passed, the boy became well-known in Black Street. Everyone knew that in the center of Black Street, there was a kindhearted soul. Yet, strangely enough— Even though people knew he was simple, easy to take advantage of, and could be sold for a good price, for half a month, no one dared to lay a finger on him. It was as if, amid the filth and darkness, even the most wretched souls held onto a final shred of reverence for that lone ray of light. Until one day, the boy collapsed again. When he woke up, he was once again inside Hubert's clinic. "Did you save up the money?" Hubert asked. The boy shook his head. "No." "Clean my clinic. I'll pay you." Hubert's voice was still indifferent. The boy beamed. "I'll work really hard!" "Mm." Hubert nodded and said nothing more. But from that day on, the people of Black Street suddenly noticed that the 'doctor' with blood-stained hands had vanished without a trace. "Frowning looks ugly. My mom said people should smile often because it looks much better!" "Your headache is getting worse again. You need to take medicine!" "No! You should take medicine!" "If you're going to kill me, could you at least take the medicine before I die?" "You killed someone again? Killing people is bad!" "Did you bury the body? I'll go bury the body!!!" "Did you notice? When you smile, your mood gets much better! At least your headache isn't as bad as it was before!" "I bought you a rocking chair with my wages. You should sit in the doorway and get some sun. It's good for your health!" "Of course, I'll save money to treat my illness! I have to live, so I'll work hard!" "Just call me Virgil!" Black Street— A new generation replaced the old. Everyone forgot about the cold-blooded 'doctor' and only knew that there was a new, mentally unstable crazy person on Central Street. He was always smiling, always doing strange things, especially obsessed with treating people and collecting consultation fees! But the funny thing was, no one could beat him. So, people gave him a code name--Lunatic. Thinking back on the past five years, Hubert closed his eyes, a faint smile curving at the corners of his lips. "It's almost payday again." As if remembering something, Hubert slowly opened his eyes, sat up straight in his rocking chair, and scanned the street. "You're sick!" Finally, Hubert smiled and spoke to a passerby hurrying along. The passerby instinctively looked up. When he saw who was speaking to him and noticed the sign behind Hubert, his body jerked in shock. "Yes, I'm sick!" Without hesitation, the passerby blurted out. "Thank you for reminding me! Otherwise, I wouldn't have known!" "This is my consultation fee!" While speaking, the passerby pulled all the money from his pocket, carefully placed it on the ground, and slowly backed away. Hubert's smile gradually disappeared, and his brows furrowed. "He won't let me rob anyone—not in front of him, at least!" "If you keep this up, he's gonna start nagging me again!" Hubert, irritated, stood up from the rocking chair. "I'm a doctor. If I say you're sick, you're sick! Treating people and collecting consultation fees is only right!" As he spoke, Hubert walked up to the passerby, picked up the money, and stuffed it back into the man's pocket. Then, he grabbed him and began dragging him toward the clinic. The passerby was stunned. He allowed Hubert to drag him along, not even finding the courage to resist. It wasn't until they entered the infamous 'Underworld Clinic,' a place that sent shivers down the spine of everyone on Central Street, that he snapped out of it, his face filled with anxiety. "Don't act so nervous. I know you have a knife hidden in your right sleeve. I haven't killed anyone in front of him for many years. Don't worry." Hubert didn't look back; he spoke to himself while glancing toward the direction where Virgil was. "When you were walking earlier, your right leg hit the ground with a bit more force than your left leg. You must have gotten hurt during a fight a while back. That's an illness. It needs to be treated! Here's your medicine. Please keep it safe." Hubert rambled on, looking a bit neurotic, as he walked over to the counter, opened a drawer, and pulled out a bottle, handing it over. "Stopain. Very useful." Hubert said it seriously. The passerby hesitated as he looked at the bottle of Stopain in his hand, then cautiously glanced at Hubert. "How much is it?" "Just the money you took out of your pocket earlier." Hubert looked up and pointed to the passerby's pocket. That money was the same one he had just personally stuffed into the man's pocket. The passerby's lips twitched slightly as he stared at Hubert in disbelief. "So, what's the difference between this and robbery?" "Of course, there's a difference! Treating people and saving lives is a doctor's duty! Paying for the consultation is the patient's responsibility!" Hubert said seriously, speaking with righteous authority. As he spoke, he casually glanced at the distant Virgil and, upon realizing that he wasn't paying attention, sighed with relief. "Lunatic from Central Street really lives up to the rumors!" The passerby thought to himself. His face was filled with absurdity as he resignedly pulled the money from his pocket and placed it on the table. Then, he hurriedly turned and walked away. It wasn't until he stood outside the clinic, looking at the bottle of Stopain oil in his hand, that he felt like crying. It was expired. An expired bottle of Stopain had cost him three thousand nine hundred and nine dollars! When he turned around and glanced at the sign 'Underworld Clinic,' he suddenly had an epiphany. Rumors said, "Better to go to the Underworld than to the Underworld Clinic." Now, thinking about it, this saying was filled with life wisdom. Without thinking, he clenched the expired bottle of Stopain in his hand, his eyes flashing with malice. "I got scammed, so now it's time to scam back." Saying this, the passerby quickly turned and headed toward the outskirts of Black Street. At the very least, he had to earn five thousand dollars back!