Chapter 1
They say love is sweet, but for Edmund of Hartwell, it was a bittersweet mix of emotions! As the poet once said, “In love, I once asked the shallow moon, only to be left with a lingering, faint sorrow.” Indeed! In a certain moment of youthful ignorance and blossoming affection, Edmund encountered Lydia Bright—deemed by many to be the loveliest maiden of Eldoria. How would one create ripples in her dark, captivating eyes? Would they provoke her to pause in contemplative delight, or perhaps coax forth a soft smile from her lips? In the golden autumn of Eldoria, the sky stretched above like a pretentious maiden adorned in make-up. Seeing the naive young Mencius—uncharted by the world's concerns—drenched in a murky sadness, stirred tender feelings within those naïve hearts like raindrops falling on shy petals. With the autumn breeze awakening, leaves aching with unspoken longing slipped quietly into the recesses of memory. Edmund stood before the window of the Scholars’ Dormitory, gazing into the distance... The Scholars’ Grove still cradled water, with rolling hills and peaceful azure stretching out before him. The landscape lay shrouded in a gossamer mist, appearing both ethereal and elusive. Youthful souls, unaware of the depths of melancholy, strive for greater heights in love... It struck Edmund that perhaps he was merely a transient presence in this realm. Suddenly, distant raindrops kissed his cheek, jolting him back to reality, revealing that the mist that had obscured his view was merely a cover for his fading awareness. After the rain, the air felt transformed, thick with revitalization. However, in that moment, Edmund sensed a coolness seep into his heart, tinged with a whisper of homesickness. Unbeknownst to him, the wounds deeply embedded in his soul began to alter his path like a gentle, inevitable current. Homesickness often proves to be a mere byproduct of the season; in the echoes of a dismal sneeze, these lingering shadows fade into nothingness. As for that whispered coolness... it lingered stubbornly, for this northern region of the Southern Realm would not fully unveil its autumn chill until later in the season. Edmund descended the stairs, eager to embrace the delayed embrace of autumn... The leafy overpass known as The Yawning Path was lined with joyous, sprawling maple trees that exhibited their vibrant hues, coaxing him to feel an unnecessary sense of pride. The leaves clutched desperately to summers’ tail, reluctant to greet the inevitable change—a poignant reminder of how affection can hold one captive. The rustle of the leaves was a call, a foretelling of the incoming rain, and the melody of autumn played gently on brisk winds, ensconced high above in the sky, while tenderly looking over the artistic expressions of the realm below. The pavement leading under those maples, crafted from a mosaic of yellow and red bricks, whispered geometric patterns that delighted each soul traversing its path. Suddenly, Edmund found himself in the company of many other scholars. Colors danced around him, a kaleidoscope of seasonal attire swirling amidst the chatter and laughter—the vibrant energy pulsating with youthful dreams and fresh pursuits, wrapping around the painted canvas of their shared reality. As he approached the Entrance of Learning, he was met with a delicate mingling of fashion and simplicity, a collision of pride and modesty, a tempo both relaxed and hurried, illuminating the elegance of intellect amidst the tumult of life here in the Higher Learning District. This was the Street of Scholars, where hearts collide and futures spiral into the unknown.
Chapter 2
The storefronts lining the street were a vibrant tapestry of artistic expression and folkloric charm, each sign beckoning passersby with the warmth of a welcoming smile and the boldness of modern fashions. This eclectic atmosphere was a delightful escape, as if inviting the narrator—Edmund of Hartwell—to forget he was far from home. The music flowing from the shops ranged from classical to contemporary, a melodious antidote to the melancholic thoughts that accompanied him. Edmund, clad in a gray trench coat, strolled along the bustling Alden Street. The gray of his attire mirrored the fog of uncertainty hanging over him, yet he yearned to reach out for the dazzling colors of life around him. After all, who wouldn't want to shine during their youth? But with his brooding thoughts anchoring him down, he wrestled with the bittersweet reality of his existence. Was this all some cosmic challenge laid out before him? He pondered whether every Alden, much like himself, must traverse a gray zone of life—each experience varying in size and shape. Right now, beyond those clouds of gloom, he felt himself just stepping into the fog. From a distance, two fashionable young ladies caught his ear as they chatted animatedly. “So, how many boyfriends do you have now? Is it number three or four?” one teased with a playful laugh. “Oh come on! You know I’m not that popular; besides, you’re the one with a crush!” the other retorted, chuckling. “Ha! Everyone is buying up the latest trends these days. Only first loves are timeless!” she quipped back. “Stop! You’re just rambling nonsense now!” “Seriously though!” “It is kind of boring now!” she continued, laughter lighting her voice. “Let’s keep that a secret,” the first young lady teased. “Maybe the guy in question has already figured it out?” “Actually, it’s Richard who seems clueless about what’s stealing our hearts; perhaps he’s just pretending not to see it.” “How many have you really dated?” the first girl pressed. “I was so naive then! And he tricked me again this time!” “I think you might have pulled the wool over his eyes!” she taunted back. “Aww, yes! Life's unspoken rules are at play here, pulling heartstrings like a puppeteer! You know it’s true!” “Right back at you!” “It’s a matter of making the best choice in relationships; I just go where love leads!” “Nice excuse, huh? At least you’re believing in something!” “Now, let’s go to Winterhaven Abbey to make our wishes. You’re coming with me!” “Sure, but what about that guy lurking behind us?” Edmund, feeling the weight of their stares, hastened past them until he overheard them giggle, loud enough for him to hear. “Total creep!” one girl exclaimed. “He seems to like you! Look how flustered he is!” “Get lost! I saw that spaced-out look ages ago!” “Right, like the daft fellow you just described! Perhaps he’s just a country bumpkin!” “Let’s tease him a bit!” “No way, it's time to go back, don’t you think?” “Well, I guess we could leave him be! He’s not too bad looking…” They laughed as they left in a rented carriage. Suddenly, there was a commotion. “Catch that thief, Geoffrey!” someone shouted out. Instinctively, Edmund checked his coat pockets, his heart racing. He scanned the street, but it seemed calm; nothing appeared out of place. “Oh no!” he thought. His pocket money had vanished! Thank goodness the cash from his inner pocket was safe. But something felt off today. Everything around him seemed bland, lacking the sweetness of life. Determined, he quickened his steps back to Scholars’ Grove, where he'd find comfort in the familiarity of his surroundings. A new era was clearly dawning, ushering in the vibrant spirit of youthful adventure.
Chapter 3
In the vibrant heart of Eldoria, up-and-coming transformations unfolded before Edmund Hartwell's eyes. He was acutely aware that everything around him was shifting, sometimes even beyond his comprehension. The once simple street corner had become a bustling hub, where yellow bread vendors were now outnumbered by sleek luxury cars owned by ostentatious chauffeurs. The hues of attire had morphed too, from the modest, worn blues of the past to flamboyant, retro styles reminiscent of his grandfather's youth. Once familiar scenes of friends chatting in lines for overpriced coffee had dissolved into the background noise as Alden and his companions laughed and exchanged words freely in cafes filled with the aroma of fresh pastries. At that moment, it felt as if life itself was battling against the stream, adapting and evolving in a whirlwind of new trends. Annalise, the lively girl that once walked with subdued grace, had transformed dramatically. Gone were the days of her simple blue slip-on shoes; now she strutted in towering stilettos. Her once-affordable skincare routine had escalated to designer brands, and her clothing had taken a sharp turn from conventional styles to bold crop tops that showcased confidence. In many ways, she embodied the complexity of modern existence, oscillating between sweet charm and striking independence. From Edmund's perspective, love had also taken on new meanings. The word "romance" seemed laced with caution as Alden's circle drifted into an age where haste overshadowed substance. Amidst a backdrop of manic eagerness and confusion, characters like Mark found themselves prisoners of their desires, allowing their lives to spiral into hedonism and despair. What lay ahead for Edmund, his aspirations, and their companions? In this diverse world, where the lines between yesterday and tomorrow blurred, few could foresee their paths. Each decision felt weighed heavily by uncertainty. There were only two choices; either to remain passive or to act. Yet, deep contemplation was required to navigate the complexity of their emotions. As one sage had quipped, “One must be wary not to mistake a honey pot for a pit of fire, nor a pit of fire for a honey pot.” The bustling urban landscape of Eldoria was alive with excitement, with high-rises stretching towards the sky and a kaleidoscope of activity everywhere he looked. The grandeur struck Alden, filling him with a sense of awe. Yet, the classic elegance of the city, with its warm, pale walls and intricate roofs, reminded Edmund of a time and history that felt irrevocably separated from their present. The past and the present, woven together in a fabric of time, seemed nearly impossible to tear apart. The young were adrift in this flow of existence, their intentions unclear—whether they drifted with purpose or idly. At times, Edmund found himself reflecting on whether those who once made him laugh, cry, or love were thriving in their current lives. He felt as if he were afloat, just a reflection in the stream of life's ebb and flow. His passion for writing was rooted in expressing both tangible and intangible aspects of living. Yet, at times, he felt lost, twisted out of shape by disconnects that left him bewildered and unclear of his true course. Grief, regret, confusion, and loss intertwined as he navigated his way back to clarity. Grateful for Master Gregor’s insights that inspired him to shift his perspective, Edmund now embraced a fresh beginning. With heartfelt thanks offered also to Lady Emmeline, he vowed to hold onto his creative spark. *In the garden of friendships blooming under the sun, the shadows lengthened, intertwined with strands of memory that danced—not unlike characters from cherished epics. And by this light, the journey of a soul continued to unfold...* ****
Chapter 4
In the Scholars' Grove, everything felt fresh and vibrant for Edmund, the new scholar who had just arrived. Alden, an older student, remarked that the eagerness of newcomers like Edmund was a kind of happiness that would be nostalgic in the years to come—filled with awkward moments that would one day become amusing stories. Yet, beneath the excitement, a gentle homesickness hovered over him, like annoying little flies buzzing around his head, refusing to be shooed away. A few days had passed since his arrival, and aside from the mandatory orientation, Edmund hadn’t ventured to call his mother, Madame Isabelle. The Scholars’ Dormitory was much more advanced than he had anticipated—offering phones and internet, fully prepared to extract every penny from students. One evening, he had witnessed Annalise tearfully confiding in Tobias about how much she missed home. He felt embarrassed, wondering how someone could be so painfully homesick. Back in Hearthwood Village, autumn had begun its bustling preparations. Edmund wanted to help out with everything but got the impression that only his Aunt Margaret seemed worried about him. Returning to the Scholars’ Dormitory, he picked up the phone and dialed home… “Bzzz…bzzz…” “Hello…” came the warm, gentle voice of Madame Isabelle. Edmund mustered a smile, trying to sound a bit playful, “Madame Isabelle! It’s me, Edmund… how is everything?” Madame Isabelle's voice crackled through the receiver, “Mencius! You need to focus on your studies. You, Sir Richard, and Tobias are all doing well, I’m sure!” “Have you managed to tidy things up at home? Don’t overdo it!” Edmund asked, concern creeping into his voice. Madame Isabelle chuckled, “With your father and Tobias around, it’s just cooking a few meals here and there. It’s all coming together… don’t worry, dear.” Suddenly, the line went dead. He stared at the phone, feeling a pang of disappointment that made him hang up too soon. “Riiiing….” Just moments later, the phone rang again. Picking it up, he answered, “Hello?” “Edmund Mencius, did you just hang up on me?” Madame Isabelle's voice was slightly annoyed this time. “Is that what happens when you go off to the city? You forget all about Hearthwood Village?” Edmund hurried to reassure her, “I swear, Madame Isabelle, it was the phone! I wouldn't dare just hang up.” Madame Isabelle, half-amused and half-cross, replied, “Oh, Master Mencius… You’re full of ideas! Spend less time writing poetry! Focus that mind of yours on your studies! By the way, Gwendolyn asked for your phone number just a couple of days ago. I didn’t give it to her. You should concentrate on your learning, but if you find someone like Gwendolyn, that wouldn’t be a bad idea either! Just know that while I’m worried about you, your cousin Harold’s engagement cost and will cost us dearly!” A nervous laugh escaped Edmund. “Madame, you’re overthinking all this! Gwendolyn has high expectations… given our modest living conditions in Hearthwood, finding a ‘hard-working gentleman’ is already a tall order. As for that cousin of mine! I can barely keep a goldfish alive!" Madame Isabelle sounded proud, “Well, I’ll tell them you’re a student at Eldoria University in some distant province! How exciting! Just remember, no matter what, you’re still my darling Mencius studying hard at the University of Eldoria. We can’t let everyone forget that—pick the right girl when the time comes!” Edmund chuckled. “Aunt Margaret just called, so I should end this call. Your bill is going to be outrageous! Best to stick to texting for now. At least it’s cheaper. Besides, you could help Tobias with his essays! He needs all the help he can get, lest he write about 'stopping a little boy from cutting trees' again! Just send it to your brother’s school to support him… he might pick up some pointers!” As he hung up the phone, Edmund let out a deep breath, realizing that his kindness was still vital back home. Yet, somehow, more important matters such as relationships were on the forefront of his mother’s mind. His cousin Harold’s wedding had taken a staggering amount of money, and if he expected lavishness in his marriage, it would cost a fortune come his turn. The pressure felt unbearable, especially knowing that university at Eldoria would run them tens of thousands. His thoughts spiraled. “What will I say to myself years from now when faced with these daunting realities?” he mused. Wouldn’t future scholars be above these earthbound concerns? Perhaps they would ponder deeper things—like the meaning of life or the mysteries of the cosmos—rather than worrying if they could afford breakfast. Since the moment Edmund was accepted into Eldoria University, he felt he had transcended some barrier, yet now, standing in the grandeur of the Scholars’ Grove beneath the tremendous city skyline, it seemed he had shrunk back down. The sounds of his peers echoed in his mind, “If you’re from the little town of Elden, who wants to support scholarships for struggling students… Who wants to apply for financial aid… Who wants to work for their degrees…” His cheeks burned at the memory. Would he still find himself in this same situation years down the road? He thought of Winterhaven Abbey and its echo of “bittersweet joy.” Edmund wanted to tell his story as plainly and gently as he could manage. It was like listening to a symphony, each note weaving into the tapestry of life.
Chapter 5
It was a quiet afternoon with no classes. Stalwart Zachary sat cross-legged on his bed, idly shuffling a deck of cards as if attempting to read his fortune. Dozens of attempts yielded the same disheartening result—disaster in love. Frustration bubbled within him. What could it mean? Everyone else seemed to bask in happiness while he felt doomed to misfortune. With a sudden burst of anger, he threw the cards across the room. They flitted through the air, landing chaotically, and he instantly regretted the impulse. It’s all just a game, he reminded himself. There’s no need to take it personally. A few cards landed in the basin beneath his bed, getting soaked in the process. In the Scholars’ Dormitory where he resided, he was one of the few students left, and the recent mess was a unique mark of his gnawing loneliness. Zachary descended from his bed and bent down to retrieve the damp cards. Unexpectedly, one of them struck a nearby lantern, sending it swaying, as if shaking in response to some unseen provocation. What did he do to deserve such a life? He placed the wet cards on the windowsill to dry. Curiosity prompted his gaze to drift outside — more students began to gather at the Practice Grounds. At five in the afternoon, the campus radio crackled to life. A familiar voice filled the air, singing about life’s bittersweet realities. “...Nothing matters anymore…” Really, nothing mattered. What was happening to him? The world outside seeped into his consciousness, muddling his thoughts. “Life has its burdens, where did my troubles sprout from…?” Saying it was easy, but who could fully grasp the myriad of reasons behind the weight on his shoulders? The moment one deceives even themselves, that’s the pinnacle of self-delusion. Yet here he was, an ordinary guy, grappling with the harshness of reality. Steeling himself, he vowed to focus on his studies instead of letting himself be caught in this emotional storm. He couldn’t let Lady Emmeline down; she had high hopes for him, and he wouldn’t squander them. Suddenly, a thought lit up in his mind like a neon sign — “Don’t forget the kindness from Lady Emmeline! Keep your head held high and dance despite the clouds...” He couldn’t help but chuckle at this mental image. What a strange sensation it was to feel hopeful and foolish at once! Determined to refocus, he grabbed the textbook from his bedside, flipping to an open page. However, his gaze was still drawn to the window, where the sun played tricks on the dancers below. The cards drying on the sill captured enough of his attention to distract him from studying; he flicked them away, sending them airborne once more, trying to force himself back into concentration. But outside, the vibrant chaos of youthful laughter painted an irresistible scene. The girls were everywhere on the Practice Grounds, reveling under the golden light of dusk. Their energy was intoxicating, wrapping Sammy’s life in dreams and possibilities. He imagined their silhouettes silhouetted against the fading sky—the kind that ignites pure hope and reverie. He loved how the girls danced, and the way they captured the essence of life was mirrored in his reflections. A spirit like that of the gods, roaming freely on the sunlit field, pulling him deeper into thoughts he hardly dared to allow. Zachary knew he was just another ordinary guy admiring extraordinary moments. What was happening to him? He thought he could keep his emotions in check, but it was an uphill battle as his heart raced while eyeing their bright smiles. The cadences of youth surrounded him, transcending all boundaries. At that moment, it felt as if he lost himself in the fervent light of dreams. He forgot the longing for Hearthwood Village, forgot the weight against his chest, and most astonishingly, forgot his own promises. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how he’d spent these last few days with his head down, too shy to look up at the jubilant dancers. There was an absurdity to it all. Even the flowers in the Scholars’ Grove seemed to communicate a sense of exclusion, suggesting a longing he felt deeply at that moment. The window of the dormitory obscured his frail silhouette but allowed his eyes to roam with stealth, peeking out at the girls swirling below. A glance here and a gaze there—delighted as he came across all the vivacious motions on the Practice Grounds, feeling an inexplicable joy like a bear savoring a jar of honey. In that small world, Zachary truly experienced a sense of equality. The dorm room’s window served as a two-way mirror—allowing him to hide his insecurities while providing a window to a brighter realm beyond. Memories flickered through his mind, and a deep ache surged within him—a sentiment that weighed sharply against his heart. It was almost unbearable, just like witnessing Lydia and Cecilia’s love unfold as they worked through their troubles and found solace in one another.
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