After Egemed returned from the city, everything he had seen and experienced changed him. He no longer simply pitied the people he met—he felt compelled to act, even if it meant losing himself in the process. Just watching their struggles weighed heavily on his heart, but whenever he could do even a small kindness, and saw their broken souls smile, he felt a quiet joy settle within him. Though the world despised them, Egemed's heart found peace in those fleeting moments of happiness.
Days and nights were mostly spent studying, to earn a little money with his own hands. The thought of taking from his father always made him uneasy—he never wanted to take advantage of anyone, even his own family. He accepted gifts when freely given, but otherwise he believed everything he received should be returned in some way.
"I've been absent for two weeks… I'll have to go to university today!" he thought to himself
His parents were having tea in the dining room when Egemed greeted them.
"Good morning, Father. Good morning, Mother. Have a great day ahead."
"I'll be going to university today," he added. "I'll be back early, and I'll bring Benson with me to meet you, Mother—if he agrees to come."
"I would be very glad to meet your friend. I'll prepare something tasty," his mother said.
"Don't trouble yourself too much, Mother. I'll cook for him when he comes. It will go to waste if he doesn't show up."
"Then we'll have it ourselves," his father said.
Egemed's eyes widened. "Huh? Really, Father? You're okay with troubling Mother?"
"You've never brought anyone home before, so why not just once? Right, honey?"
"…Hmm, you are right," Mother conceded.
"Okay, then. I appreciate it. I'll handle everything once I'm back," Egemed said.
___
Later at the university, Egemed walked alone through the hallway, silent as always. His steps were soft, almost careful, as if he didn't want to disturb anyone. Students passed by in groups, laughing, talking, arguing, but none of it reached him. He kept his eyes low, holding his books close to his chest, drifting through the crowd like someone half-present.
He didn't try to greet anyone. He didn't expect anyone to greet him either.
As he approached the classroom door, Benson's voice suddenly cut through the noise behind him.
"Oi, Egemed!"
Egemed stopped. He blinked, slightly startled, and slowly turned his head toward Benson. His expression was the same gentle calm as always, hiding the loneliness that followed him every day.
"Good morning," he greeted softly.
Benson clicked his tongue and lightly tapped Egemed's shoulder.
"You walk like a ghost, man. I've been calling you."
Egemed gave a small smile. "Ah… sorry. I didn't hear."
He stepped aside to let a few students enter the classroom first, then walked in quietly, taking his usual seat near the window where the morning light washed over his desk. He placed his books neatly, sat straight, and folded his hands, waiting patiently for the class to begin.
Even then, he stayed silent—like someone who had learned long ago that silence was safer than being misunderstood.
"Man! Where have you been?" Benson asked.
"I went to the city," Egemed replied.
"Any business there? Did you get robbed or something?" Benson smirked.
Egemed chuckled. "No, nothing like that. I just had some work, and I met many people along the way."
"Mind sharing?"
"I'll tell you on the way back. The teacher's coming now."
After class, Egemed suggested visiting his home. Benson made excuses about being busy, but Egemed nodded and said softly, "Oh, it's okay. You can visit next time." He never forced anyone against their will.
On their way home, Egemed told Benson about the most astonishing person he had met in the city—a prostitute.
"Is she pretty?" Benson asked.
"She is, but I have no intention of dating anyone I don't know well," Egemed said.
Benson laughed. "If it were me, I'd just pay and be done with it. Why run away?"
Egemed smiled, though embarrassed. "Even if we are men, we should never degrade ourselves. Our bodies show what we do to them, even if no one else knows."
"They offered themselves. What's the problem?" Benson pressed.
Egemed calmly replied, "No one chooses to sell themselves unless they are desperate—financially or mentally. You don't see their suffering, but I do Benson, I can't turn away."
Benson shook his head. "So you give them money and get nothing in return? You're dumb. If they meet someone else, they'll just do it again."
"I know. But since they encountered me, I will never look away. I won't take advantage. If their lives are hellish, at least I can help them see a little light."
Benson raised an eyebrow. "And if they rape you?"
"I would beg them not to, and give them what they need," Egemed replied calmly.
"And if they don't listen?"
"Then I'll let them do as they wish. But I will still smile and forgive them afterward. They should know what it feels like to be forgiven, even after wrongdoing."
Benson laughed nervously. "Too soft. What about those who hurt children?"
Egemed's gaze was steady. "Even if it were my daughter or my wife, I would still forgive. Not because I condone cruelty, but because some people only change when met with love, not fire. Some don't change at all, no matter the punishment."
Benson frowned and muttered, "I'm glad I'm not your son."
Egemed continued, "It's not that I support cruelty."
He never could. What he meant was deeper, fragile—a quiet understanding living in the ache of his heart. If horror ever befell him, he would choose forgiveness. Not because it was right, but because he saw the pain that drove people to madness. He didn't want to punish broken souls with more brokenness; he wanted to heal them. He believed that love, even in the darkest hearts, could reach in where anger could not.
Benson stopped walking and looked at him seriously. "You know what, man? I think… we better stop being friends. I can't handle this. You… you're crazy."
Egemed's expression remained calm, though a flicker of sadness crossed his face. "If that is what you want, I won't stop you. I understand we are not the same. I'm sorry if my words hurt you. But please, don't resent me if we ever cross paths at university." he lowered his eyes and clutched his hands together. His fingers pressed into his palms, almost as if he was holding himself steady.
Without a word, Benson turned and walked away. Under his breath, he muttered, "I'm afraid if someone killed me, he'd ask my parents to forgive the murderer instead of seeking vengeance. Does he think he's a God? Even God wouldn't forgive… I'll never talk to that masochist again."
After Benson left, a quiet ache settled in Egemed's chest. He looked down at his own palms and took a deep, steadying breath, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.
It's always like this… I'm sorry, Benson. I never wanted to hurt you, he whispered to himself.
He looked around, alone in the crowd, feeling both small and strangely steady. His mind wandered, and a quiet conclusion formed: Benson won't meet me anymore.
Despite the loneliness pressing in, Egemed squared his shoulders. He knew that sometimes, speaking one's truth came with a cost—but that didn't mean he would stop being who he was.
_____
Egemed returned home, smiling as always, even if hurt inside. He never wanted to hurt others, and he knew that sharing his pain often invited scolding instead of understanding.
"I'm back, Mother. Sorry, Benson didn't come. He said he had work to do."
"That's okay," she said. "We'll eat the food prepared for your friend. Don't worry; you help me every day."
"Where's Heryl?" Egemed asked.
"Outside, playing with some boys, I think."
"Okay."
"Something feels off. Are you alright?" she asked, gently touching his head.
"Yes, Mother. I'm just tired today."
She nodded. "Go rest. I'll handle the cooking. We'll eat the food prepared for your friend."
"Okay, thank you. Wake me up before dinner."
Later, alone in his room, Egemed felt a twinge of sadness and frustration. He hated how his words sometimes broke friendships, leaving him feeling isolated. He wished he could speak less—or at least speak more wisely.
Anyway, he thought, it hurts to be different… but I guess I was born to be one.