Cutting Off The Devil

They can play out their sweet, doting romance however they like. I won't interfere anymore.

Timothy was someone my family sponsored since childhood. He came from an extremely poor and remote mountain village.

Not long ago, he lost his mother. As for his father, the only breadwinner in the family, he fell from a high platform when Timothy was six, leaving him permanently disabled.

At home, there was also an elderly grandmother to care for.

Growing up in such circumstances, Timothy never gave in to despair. On the contrary, he was extraordinarily hardworking.

The village chief once told my parents that Timothy would get up before dawn every day and walk three kilometers of mountain paths to the town school. After classes, he would rush back up the mountain to forage for mushrooms to help support the family.

In the evening, he would return home to take care of his family members. Only deep into the night would he finally have a moment to touch his books.

He couldn't bear to waste money on lamp oil, so he studied by the faint moonlight outside the window, reading in the dark.

That was how he fought his way to first place in the entire town.

After hearing this, my parents were deeply moved and immediately decided to sponsor Timothy.

They brought him into our home and transferred both of us to the same elementary school.

That was how I first met Timothy.

He wore an ill-fitting school uniform. His whole body was dark and skinny, the hems of his pants dotted with dried mud, his fingernails packed with dirt.

Standing in our living room, he looked at me stiffly, clearly ill at ease.

"Cecil, come here," my mother said gently, waving me over. "This is your brother, Timothy. Say hello."

"Hello, Timothy," I chirped brightly.

"H-Hello," Timothy replied awkwardly.

My mother said, patting my head, "From now on, Timothy will be studying at the same school as you. You have to take good care of him, okay?"

"Got it, Mom. You can count on me," I replied solemnly.

Timothy became my deskmate. We went to and from school together every day. My mother even joked that we were inseparable twins.

One day, I skipped class to go play and completely forgot about Timothy.

Humming to myself as I reached my front gate, I habitually turned my head to look to the side, only to find no one there.

Oh no! Only then did I remember the Timothy I left behind.

I hurried back along the road to school.

In a narrow alley ahead, several of the class bullies were surrounding and beating Timothy.

"You country bumpkin! Who knows what tricks you used to seduce Princess Cecil?" one of them sneered. "I'm warning you: stay far away from Princess Cecil from now on."

Back then, I was obsessed with fairy tales and convinced the whole class to call me Princess Cecil.

Normally, hearing that nickname would have made me happy, but not now.

I rushed forward. "Hey! You bad guys! Let Timothy go right now, or I'm calling the police!"

At that age, the mere mention of the police was enough to scare anyone. Sure enough, they slunk away reluctantly.

"Timothy, are you okay?" I hurried to help him up.

When I saw the bruises covering his body, guilt overwhelmed me, and I burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, Timothy. This is all my fault. If I didn't run off without waiting for you, they wouldn't have bullied you."

"Cecil, this isn't your fault," Timothy said gently, wiping away my tears. Then his tone shifted slightly. "But you really can't skip class anymore."

"Okay, Timothy. I won't ever leave you behind again. From now on, we'll walk together."

"Alright. Together."

Under the streetlights, two small figures staggered forward, heading in the same direction.

After the entrance exams, Timothy and I entered the provincial high school as joint top scorers in the entire city.

For all three years of high school, we remained firmly in the top three of our grade.