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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 We had calendars in the village, but they were way outdated.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, 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 clicked his tongue.
"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! After everything you've seen, you still don't believe me?"
"Uh… well…" El hesitated, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Even if magic is real, all the books I've read say things like it can make fire shoot from someone's hands, burn down buildings, or curse people to death. But I've never read about magic that could make someone… stronger physically." His tone was cautious, yet curious.
The man chuckled, shaking his head with mock incredulity. "Oh, wow. You're a clever one, aren't you? But here's a little advice, kid—don't always rely on books. They can often be misleading, alright?" he said casually.
El frowned, crossing his arms as a flicker of offense crossed his face.
"Hmmph. I think books are written by people who actually know what they're talking about—people who've mastered their craft. They're not just random folks scribbling nonsense. These authors are pioneers of knowledge and literacy! They've taught me things I'd never have learned in the village." His voice carried a note of defiance as he defended his cherished source of wisdom.
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