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"Sir, I want to ask: how long do you think I've lost my memories? We had calendars in the village, but they were way outdated. I don't know my birthday either, so how old do you think I am?" El asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. There was a hint of well-hidden pain behind his question.
The man raised his hands, intending to pat El's head, but paused midway, his motion faltering. He clenched his lifted hand tightly and lowered it back to his side. Fixing his gaze on El, he voiced out, "Your name is El. You should be thirteen by now. You've lost about six years of your memories—that's all I know about you."
Reaching into his pants pocket, the man pulled out an object and extended it toward El. Instinctively, El's hands reached out to accept it.
"Here, wear this. Perhaps it'll have a good effect on you. Who knows…" he said, handing El an object that was cold to the touch.
It was a necklace featuring a delicate bronze chain, adorned with a striking bronze ornament that cradled a captivating red jewel at its center, resembling an eye.
As curiosity took hold, El raised it to his eye level and examined the jewel more closely. He noticed a swirling black haze deep within the red ruby, enhancing its appearance to that of a watchful eye that followed his gaze, creating an unsettling yet captivating effect.
"What is this, sir?"
El's curiosity piqued as he studied the amulet from every angle, tilting it left, then right, and even peering at its back.
"It's an amulet, forged specifically into a necklace," he replied.
"What exactly is an amulet?" El inquired, still captivated.
"You can think of it as a good luck charm—something that brings you fortune as long as you keep it close," he explained.
"And what do you mean by 'charm'?" El pressed further, eager to understand.
"A charm is an object with magic inside it," he said, his eyes glinting with an indistinct hint.
"I see…" El murmured, contemplating the secrets it might hold, how much it weighed in grams, and how expensive it would be if he sold it, though he wouldn't sell it since it wasn't his.
"Is it the same as the vial you used earlier?"
"More or less," the man said, tilting his head slightly once to the side as a sign of vague clarification. "Do you like it?"
His lips formed a faint smile as he recalled a fond memory—when his daughter had given him this necklace as his birthday gift, which he never once celebrated nor even remembered. He remembered the reluctance in her eyes each time he had to leave her again and again. And again.
"Yes. It's quite heavy. Interesting. And more importantly, it seems expensive. Are you sure you want to give this to me, sir?"
"Of course. Don't worry; it was something I used to carry all the time but never really used."
"You mean you don't need a charm for good luck, sir?"
"Hmmm, if you are a man, a strong adult like me, tall, full of muscles, and a real fighter—not like some 'bigmouth and schemer' I know of, there's no need for a piece of luck whatsoever. I can simply breeze through it all with punches. If that's not enough, I'll add even more punches to crush it."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You brag a lot, sir," El replied, his tone flat as he lowered his eyes, unimpressed by the man's boastful claims.
"What, you don't believe me?" the man asked.
"No… do you think you can punch your way through that concrete building in the city? In a physics book I once read, a concrete wall achieves its remarkable hardness through a series of chemical reactions known as hydration. It has high compressive strength, ranging from 20 to 40 megapascals, and could reach even higher for specialized formulations. This strength measures the material's ability to withstand axial loads without collapsing. In other words, the energy required to break the chemical bonds within the material far exceeds what a human can ever generate. So… it's impossible, sir!" El declared passionately, his index finger raised in emphasis toward the ceiling, feeling a sense of triumph after his lengthy explanation. He smiled mirthlessly at the man, who looked dizzy, overloaded by information.
'No wonder the man liked to brag so much. I never knew bragging about something you know and can do could be this satisfying,' El thought, a wave of sweet satisfaction washing over him. He was pleased that all those hours spent in the village library were finally paying off.
But then doubt crept in. 'Wait, is the man even saying something truthful? Much of what he said doesn't make sense at all—eating and barbecuing a fire-breathing lizard ten feet in size and whatnot. That couldn't possibly be real, could it?' El pondered, skeptical of all the man's bragging.
"Sigh, you're a hopeless kid. I really can do it, alright," the man insisted, his shoulders slumped in helplessness.
"... Hahaha. You are funny, sir," El replied, laughter bubbling up as he paused between his chuckles, treating it as a kind of joke.
"Oh, come on! Even after seeing all that magic, you still don't believe me?"
"Even if magic is real, all I read in the book is that they sacrificed humans or animals to the devils they worship. They can eject fire from their hands, burning a building, or curse someone to death. I've never heard or read about magic that could make someone strong physically."
"Oh, wow, kid. You're really smart, aren't you? But don't always go by the book. It's sometimes misleading, alright?" the man advised.
"Hmmm. I think books are always written by authors who know their way around that particular knowledge. They're not just random people writing something. They are pioneers of literacy. They've given me so much knowledge beyond the village," El harrumphed, feeling slightly offended by the man's suggestion that books could mislead him.
But what could he say? Books were what accompanied him in that village through all the pain in his stomach from hunger. The villagers said it was impossible to concentrate on anything, especially to learn something by reading a book, if their stomachs were empty. But for El, it had never been a problem. Discovering a wealth of knowledge and information beyond the daily struggle for survival fascinated him. He was truly grateful to those writers who took the time to create such books.
Even if it was just a mere children's fairytale, El could always derive some form of realization from it, making the next day and the days ahead more bearable for him. And look where it had gotten him right now. He had survived it all, now living in a city, taken in by a man who was rather suspicious, but El believed he was trustworthy nevertheless, and he even enjoyed having a great meal. For El, this was a dream come true. At least, it felt that way to him.
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